what i hope for every day as i open my front door

{Requested} EXO Reaction to their girlfriend walking out in only a towel

A/N: This was requested by @susie2110. I hope you like it, darling! Sorry for the long wait as well. 

Minseok: 

Minseok would have currently been cleaning while you were taking a shower. But while so focused on sweeping, he hadn’t heard the patter of your wet, bare feet on the tile floors. Turning around to look at you when you called out his name, his eyes would widen slightly, regardless of having seen you nude many times. 

“Minnie, did you happen to throw my sweatpants in the wash?”

“So beautiful” he’d mumble, completely ignoring your question. 

Originally posted by perfectioninthreeletters


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My Best Friend

Hey guys!  Here’s a random one-shot I wrote…  Hope you like it!  BONUS POINTS to anyone who can figure out the song that I loosely based this off of (even though it’s not a song fic)!


“No, listen-  That’s not what I meant!”  Natsu’s voice was a few octaves higher than it normally was; it mixed with the raspiness of his voice and made it sound like a rusted door swinging on its hinge.  He sighed heavily and ran a frustrated hand through his rosy hair, all while Lucy sat curled up in one of his leather arm chairs, Blink 182 playing in the background, turned low by Lucy soon after Natsu had gotten the call.  “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”  Natsu huffed, now standing in front of his window, looking out into the darkness of ten o’clock at night, arms crossed, and brows creased.  

His frustration had gone on for over an hour now, and Lucy felt mildly helpless to the situation, though she wouldn’t even know where to begin if she tried.  Natsu’s girlfriend, she didn’t even know her name, had called.  She was offended by some joke he had made earlier when he introduced her to Gray, and was going off on him for embarrassing her in front of his friend.  Lucy rolled her eyes in thought; Natsu was brash and a little thick when it came to personal boundaries, but she knew that whatever Natsu had said wasn’t meant to be offensive to the girl.

It was supposed to be a typical Friday, Natsu and Lucy were having their movie and hangout night- bad scary movies, popcorn, the whole shebang.  That all was put on hold when his girlfriend called and started screaming at him.  Lucy was honestly perplexed as to why they even started dating, it was more or less out of the blue.  One day Natsu was his normal self, not talking about any girl to anyone, the next day he’s saying he has a girlfriend.  It, quite honestly, shook Lucy up a bit and bothered her that he didn’t tell her.  She hadn’t met her yet because, Natsu had said, he was saving her for last because, ‘Best for last, Luce!’.  If Lucy was being honest with herself, she couldn’t give two shits about meeting the girl if this was the way she was going to treat her best friend.

“Listen-” Natsu desperately tried to get a word in, but it seemed he was cutoff yet again.  He gave her a helpless look and Lucy returned it with a sympathetic shrug.  “Sorry.” He hissed out a whisper to her and Lucy waved off his apology, it wasn’t his fault.  Soon after he had whispered to her, his expression went from mild annoyance, to something like anger.

“It’s Lucy, I told you we hangout every Friday.” He answered the girl’s unheard question, and Lucy shook her head to herself.  Nosy. “She’s my best friend, Emily.”  Ah, Emily.  That was the illusive girlfriend’s name.  Lucy had not met many Emily’s that weren’t batshit crazy.  “Yes, I did tell you!” Lucy admired how Natsu was attempting to keep his emotions in check; he had his head pressed up against his wall, forefinger and thumb resting on the bridge of his nose in annoyance, and his eyes closed tightly while his phone was pressed to his ear.

“I can go…” Lucy got up, clicking her Spotify off, cutting of the song I Miss You which was, in Lucy’s opinion, a damn tragedy.  Natsu met her gaze, pulling himself up, and shook his head adamantly.

“Emily, I’m sorry.  We can talk more about this tomorrow, okay?” Natsu reasoned, shaking his head in annoyance. “See ya.” He replied and clicked the little red phone on his screen.  “Fuck,” He cursed, sitting on his couch, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m…  Sorry?”  Lucy offered and Natsu lifted his gaze, laughing lightly.

“It ain’t your fault.  S’ides, I guess I should watch my mouth more.” He sighed and Lucy frowned.  “It was a stupid joke.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m sure you didn’t mean it.” Lucy pointed out and Natsu seemed to relax a bit.  “At the very least I’m sure that it didn’t deserve an hour and twelve minute phone call.” Lucy pouted a bit looking at the cold popcorn that she had made just before the call.

“She’s just…  Sensitive, I guess?” Natsu shrugged and Lucy rolled her eyes.

“That’s pretty damn sensitive,” Lucy stated, getting up to inspect the popcorn.  “How did you two even meet?  It seems like all of a sudden you were dating.  You didn’t even tell me.”  Lucy asked sourly, shooting a glance over her shoulder at him, and he looked at her apologetically.

“She’s in my chem class.  We were just talking a lot this semester, just being friendly, and I dunno…”  Natsu ran a had through his hair again and Lucy frowned.

“It…  Doesn’t really sound like you’re happy…”  Lucy whispered and Natsu avoided her gaze.

“I found out through one of her friends in the class that she really liked me.” He stated, still not meeting her gaze.  She watched him open his mouth, but nothing came out, and she decided not to push it further.  Lucy knew that he was unhappy, it was written all over his face, especially after getting harassed over the phone for so long.  Lucy didn’t know why he would want to put up with something like that.

“Why don’t we watch our movie now, okay?” Lucy suggested, the biggest smile she could muster on her face.  Natsu returned it with his signature toothy grin, and patted the seat next to him on his couch.

“Hell yeah!  Let’s get spooked by shitty jump scares!”  He cheered and Lucy laughed, happy to see that he was coming around to his usual self.

“Great!  I picked out a good one, it’s called Sharknado…”


The week following the ‘phone-call-night’, Lucy had been introduced to Emily.  The girl had barely spoken to her, but the sneer on her face had been apparent that they were not going to be friends, and Lucy was perfectly happy with that.  

“She’s just so…  Ugh!” Lucy griped to Cana and Levy as they sat in Magnolia University’s library café.  “She’s making him so unhappy.”

“She did look like a skank.” Cana agreed and Lucy rolled her eyes though a smirk broke out on Lucy’s lips.

“That’s not what I was getting at, but I’ll take it.” Lucy sighed and let out a small giggle.

“I mean, it’s clear to everyone that he’s not happy.  It’s not like Natsu to just put up with something like that.  This is so opposite of him.” Levy pondered and Lucy threw her hands up, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly!  He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that by someone like her!  He deserves someone-”

“Like you?” Cana teased, sipping her coffee, and making Lucy’s cheeks burn.

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” Lucy stammered and Levy giggled madly.  “I’m just saying, he deserves a lot better than her.”

“So, yeah, you.” Levy joined in the teasing and Lucy placed a look of betrayal on her friend.  “It’s only the truth, Lu!”

“You two are no help.” Lucy pouted and the two girls laughed lightly, giving her sympathetic looks.  “Either way, I don’t want to deal with the crazy bit-”

“Luce!” Natsu’s voice called from the entrance of the café, startling her and causing her to choke on her tea.

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Harvey Weinsten sexually Harassed Lupita Nyong’o

Lupita: “I have been following the news and reading the accounts of women coming forward to talk about being assaulted by Harvey Weinstein and others. I had shelved my experience with Harvey far in the recesses of my mind, joining in the conspiracy of silence that has allowed this predator to prowl for so many years. I had felt very much alone when these things happened, and I had blamed myself for a lot of it, quite like many of the other women who have shared their stories.

But now that this is being discussed openly, I have not been able to avoid the memories resurfacing. I have felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I have felt such a flare of rage that the experience I recount below was not a unique incident with me, but rather part of a sinister pattern of behavior.

I met Harvey Weinstein in 2011 at an awards ceremony in Berlin, while I was still a student at the Yale School of Drama. An intermediary introduced him to me as “the most powerful producer in Hollywood.” As an aspiring actress, I was of course eager to meet people in the industry but cautious about strangers, and the intentions of men in general. So I tried to vet this famous producer by asking my dinner-table companions what they knew of him. A woman who was a producer herself cautiously advised me to “keep Harvey in your corner.” She said: “He is a good man to know in the business, but just be careful around him. He can be a bully.” And so I exchanged contacts with him in the hopes that I would be of consideration for one of his projects. I wanted to keep things professional, so I made a point of referring to him as “Mr. Weinstein.” But he insisted that I call him by his first name. In this first encounter, I found him to be very direct and authoritative, but also charming. He didn’t quite put me at ease, but he didn’t alarm me, either.

Not long after we met in Berlin, Harvey wrote to me inviting me to attend a screening of a film — a competitor’s film similar to one he had produced. He said we would be watching it with his family at his home in Westport, Conn., which was not far away from New Haven, where I was living at the time. He would send a car to pick me up. I accepted the invitation.

The driver and I met Harvey in the little town of Westport, where he informed me that we would be having lunch at a restaurant before getting to his home. I did not think much of this. It was a busy restaurant, and as soon as we sat down he ordered a vodka and diet soda for himself. I asked for a juice. Harvey was unimpressed with my choice and told the waiter to bring me a vodka and diet soda instead. I declined and said I wanted the juice. We went back and forth until finally he turned to the waiter and said, “Get her what I tell you to get her. I’m the one paying the bill.” I smiled and remained silent. The waiter left and returned with a vodka and diet soda for me. He placed it on the table beside my water. I drank the water. Harvey told me that I needed to drink the vodka and diet soda. I informed him that I would not.

“Why not?” I remember him asking. “Because I don’t like vodka, and I don’t like diet soda, and I don’t like them together,” I said. “You are going to drink that,” he insisted. I smiled again and said that I wouldn’t. He gave up and called me stubborn. I said, “I know.” And the meal proceeded without much further ado. In this second encounter with Harvey, I found him to be pushy and idiosyncratic more than anything.

We got to his home after lunch and I met his domestic staff and his young children. He took me on a brief tour of the house before he rounded us all up in the screening room to watch the film. He had just produced a similar film of his own, but everyone was raving about this rival version.

I settled in for the film, but about 15 minutes in, Harvey came for me, saying he wanted to show me something. I protested that I wanted to finish the film first, but he insisted I go with him, laying down the law as though I too was one of his children. I did not want another back-and-forth in front of his kids, so I complied and left the room with him. I explained that I really wanted to see the film. He said we’d go back shortly.

Harvey led me into a bedroom — his bedroom — and announced that he wanted to give me a massage. I thought he was joking at first. He was not. For the first time since I met him, I felt unsafe. I panicked a little and thought quickly to offer to give him one instead: It would allow me to be in control physically, to know exactly where his hands were at all times.

Part of our drama school curriculum at Yale included body work, using massage techniques on one another to understand the connection between body, mind and emotion, and so I felt I could rationalize giving him one and keep a semblance of professionalism in spite of the bizarre circumstance. He agreed to this and lay on the bed. I began to massage his back to buy myself time to figure out how to extricate myself from this undesirable situation. Before long he said he wanted to take off his pants. I told him not to do that and informed him that it would make me extremely uncomfortable. He got up anyway to do so and I headed for the door, saying that I was not at all comfortable with that. “If we’re not going to watch the film, I really should head back to school,” I said.

I opened the door and stood by the frame. He put his shirt on and again mentioned how stubborn I was. I agreed with an easy laugh, trying to get myself out of the situation safely. I was after all on his premises, and the members of his household, the potential witnesses, were all (strategically, it seems to me now) in a soundproof room.

Earlier Harvey had sent the driver to the store to buy a boxed collection of “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency,” an HBO show that he had produced. This was the project he thought I would be right for, he said. (I later found out that the show had not been on the air for some time.) As I prepared to leave his home, he presented it to me. He wanted me to check it out and let him know what I thought. He would be in touch about it. I left for New Haven with his driver.

I didn’t quite know how to process the massage incident. I reasoned that it had been inappropriate and uncalled-for, but not overtly sexual. I was entering into a business where the intimate is often professional and so the lines are blurred. I was in an educational program where I was giving massages to my classmates and colleagues every day. Though the incident with Harvey had made me uncomfortable, I was able to explain and justify it to myself, and shelve it as an awkward moment. His offer to me to be a part of the HBO show was a very attractive one and I was excited about it, especially as I would be graduating in another year. I didn’t know how to proceed without jeopardizing my future. But I knew I would not be accepting any more visits to private spaces with Harvey Weinstein.

I decided to invite Harvey to come to a production I was in at school. Perhaps that way he would really see what I had to offer, and he would see my colleagues, too. He accepted the invitation, but the night of the production, he sent a message saying he had been caught up in New York and would be unable to attend. He would make it up to me. So when I received an official invitation to a staged reading of his new Broadway show, “Finding Neverland,” I was not surprised. I was still debating whether I should accept his invitation, and so I responded saying I was not certain that I could make it because of my school schedule. He responded with exactly the words I needed to hear: Come with whomever you want to come with. And so I invited two of my trusted male friends.

We attended the reading, and afterward Harvey invited us all to a restaurant for dinner with his comrades and collaborators. He sat me next to him, and another actress sat across from me. He had my friends sit at a different table. The talk was shop the whole time and Harvey held court with ease. He was charming and funny once more, and I felt confused about the discomfort I had previously experienced. I looked at the actress who I was informed had just worked with him on a project, searching her face for any sort of indication that she too had been made to feel uncomfortable by this powerful man, but of course I saw nothing. We did not stay very long because we had to catch a train back to New Haven. My friends had been equally charmed by Harvey. He knew when to turn it on if he wanted something. He was definitely a bully, but he could be really charming, which was disarming and confusing. I left feeling that perhaps he had learned my boundaries and was going to respect them.

A couple of months later, I received an email from Harvey, inviting me again to New York for a screening of “W.E.” After the screening, we would have drinks in TriBeCa. I then received a phone call from one of his male assistants to arrange my transportation. Feeling more confident about the new sense of boundaries that we had established in our last meeting, I attended the screening on my own this time. Afterward, as planned, his male assistant arranged for me to get to the Tribeca Grill, where Harvey would be joining us. I met a female assistant when I arrived there. I was expecting that it would be a group of us, as it had been for the reading, but she informed me it would just be Mr. Weinstein. She would sit with me until he arrived. She seemed on edge, but I could only imagine how stressful it was to work for a man who had so much going on.

Harvey arrived and the assistant immediately disappeared. We ordered drinks and starters. Again he was offended by my nonalcoholic beverage choice but he didn’t fight me on it as hard. Before the starters arrived, he announced: “Let’s cut to the chase. I have a private room upstairs where we can have the rest of our meal.” I was stunned. I told him I preferred to eat in the restaurant. He told me not to be so naïve. If I wanted to be an actress, then I had to be willing to do this sort of thing. He said he had dated Famous Actress X and Y and look where that had gotten them.

I was silent for a while before I mustered up the courage to politely decline his offer. “You have no idea what you are passing up,” he said. “With all due respect, I would not be able to sleep at night if I did what you are asking, so I must pass,” I replied.

His whole demeanor changed at that point. “Then I guess we are two ships passing in the night.” I had never heard that saying before, so I remember asking him what it meant. “It means just that,” he said. “We are two ships going in two different directions.”

“Yes, I guess we are.”

“So we are done here,” he said. “You can leave.”

We got up, having not eaten anything, and he led me out of the restaurant. My heart was beating very fast. A cab was hailed for me. I said I would take the subway (I could not afford a cab at the time), but he handed me some money and told me not to be silly, take the cab. Before I got in, I needed to make sure that I had not awakened a beast that would go on to ruin my name and destroy my chances in the business even before I got there.

“I just want to know that we are good,” I said.

“I don’t know about your career, but you’ll be fine,” he said. It felt like both a threat and a reassurance at the same time; of what, I couldn’t be sure.

I did not see Harvey again until September 2013 when I was in Toronto for the premiere of “12 Years a Slave,” the first feature film I was in. At an after-party, he found me and evicted whoever was sitting next to me to sit beside me. He said he couldn’t believe how fast I had gotten to where I was, and that he had treated me so badly in the past. He was ashamed of his actions and he promised to respect me moving forward. I said thank you and left it at that. But I made a quiet promise to myself to never ever work with Harvey Weinstein.

Not long after I won the Academy Award in 2014, I received an offer to play a role in one of the Weinstein Company’s forthcoming films. I knew I would not do it simply because it was the Weinstein Company, but I did not feel comfortable telling this to anybody. I turned down the role, but Harvey would not take no for an answer. While at Cannes, he insisted on meeting with me in person. I agreed to do it only because my agent would be present. In the meeting, he was honest about intending to persuade me to do his movie. I told him I simply did not feel it was a role I needed to play. He said he was open to making it bigger, more significant, maybe they could add a love scene. He said if I did this one for him, he would do another one for me — basically guaranteeing backing a star-vehicle film for me. I ran out of ways of politely saying no and so did my agent. I was so exasperated by the end that I just kept quiet. Harvey finally accepted my position and expressed that he still wanted to work with me at some point. “Thank you, I hope so,” I lied.

And that was the last of my personal encounters with Harvey Weinstein. I share all of this now because I know now what I did not know then. I was part of a growing community of women who were secretly dealing with harassment by Harvey Weinstein. But I also did not know that there was a world in which anybody would care about my experience with him. You see, I was entering into a community that Harvey Weinstein had been in, and even shaped, long before I got there. He was one of the first people I met in the industry, and he told me, “This is the way it is.” And wherever I looked, everyone seemed to be bracing themselves and dealing with him, unchallenged. I did not know that things could change. I did not know that anybody wanted things to change. So my survival plan was to avoid Harvey and men like him at all costs, and I did not know that I had allies in this.

Fortunately for me, I have not dealt with any such incidents in the business since. And I think it is because all the projects I have been a part of have had women in positions of power, along with men who are feminists in their own right who have not abused their power. What I am most interested in now is combating the shame we go through that keeps us isolated and allows for harm to continue to be done. I wish I had known that there were women in the business I could have talked to. I wish I had known that there were ears to hear me. That justice could be served. There is clearly power in numbers. I thank the women who have spoken up and given me the strength to revisit this unfortunate moment in my past.

Our business is complicated because intimacy is part and parcel of our profession; as actors we are paid to do very intimate things in public. That’s why someone can have the audacity to invite you to their home or hotel and you show up. Precisely because of this we must stay vigilant and ensure that the professional intimacy is not abused. I hope we are in a pivotal moment where a sisterhood — and brotherhood of allies — is being formed in our industry. I hope we can form a community where a woman can speak up about abuse and not suffer another abuse by not being believed and instead being ridiculed. That’s why we don’t speak up — for fear of suffering twice, and for fear of being labeled and characterized by our moment of powerlessness. Though we may have endured powerlessness at the hands of Harvey Weinstein, by speaking up, speaking out and speaking together, we regain that power. And we hopefully ensure that this kind of rampant predatory behavior as an accepted feature of our industry dies here and now.

Now that we are speaking, let us never shut up about this kind of thing. I speak up to make certain that this is not the kind of misconduct that deserves a second chance. I speak up to contribute to the end of the conspiracy of silence.”


I’m so happy Lupita shared her story and I have so much more respect for her and commend her for sticking by her morals. It’s disgusting that Harvey would even try something with her while his kids were in the other room, what a sick bastard

A Package Marked “Return to sender”

Story by reddit user manen_lyset

My neighbor is one of those annoying wannabe YouTube personalities. Over the years, I’ve seen him cough out cinnamon, lay flat on the hood of his car as it slowly creeps down the driveway, and douse himself in lukewarm water, all the while screaming epic win, epic fail, or, fuck, epic maintenance of the status quo, for all I know. It can get tiring to watch him go about his shenanigans in the pursuit of viral fame. So, when he knocked on my door the other day, told me he was going away for a few weeks, and asked that I get his mail, honestly, it was a relief. I can’t explain the peace of mind I had knowing I didn’t have to brace myself for any of his stupidity for a while. I was always afraid his stunts would wind up bleeding over into my life.

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((thank you to guest writer @actualbird !!!))

See the thing about Evangeline is that it’s pretty much as old as Jeremy and Michael’s entire friendship. Probably older, actually. Evangeline, of course, being the minifridge in their dorm that houses the Jeremy’s fantastic stock of Mountain Dew Red.

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I am in my own Harry Potter AU hell.

And just because I can:

“Dad…” 

Malfoy looked up from his desk, quill poised over the parchment as his son hovered by the study door. Aware that he was frowning, Draco lifted his expression into something more neutral. He was vaguely aware of his own father always frowning whenever he’d tried to talk to him as a boy, and he didn’t want Scorpius to one day think the same about him.

“Come in, come in. Shut the door, you’ll let the heat out.” 

The Greengrass estate was a crumbling ruin compared to Malfoy Manner, with only half the library and none of the artifacts Draco had spent the last few years archiving and putting safely away behind spelled glass. But for now it was home, chilly stone walls and all.

“Did you want something?”

“Yes.” Scorpius replied, pausing to tug at the hem of his dark shirt. There’s still a bruise under his eye, faded to be sure, but the mere presence of it made Draco’s heart skip a beat. When he’d seen Severus Potter crawling out of the rubble, face covered in blood and no sign of his own son, he’d known terror like no other.

And Draco Malfoy was intimately familiar with the machinations of terror. He’d been hugged by it once.

“Well,” he prompted, setting aside his work entirely and giving his full attention to his son. “What is it?”

“I want my friends to come visit.”

Draco blinked. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. “Your…friends?”

“Albus Potter and Rosie Granger-Weasley. I would like them to come stay.”

Draco blinked again. Later he’d laugh—somewhat despairingly into a decanter of fire brandy—at the absurdity of the notion that his boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, was best friends with a Potter and the hybrid off-spring of a Granger Weasley, but the threat of impeding hysterics was quelled under the defiant gaze of his son, narrow chin lifting at some unspoken challenge. 

“I see. For how long?”

“A…a week…maybe two…They’re going to France for the Quiditch Cup Primaries…” he glanced down and Draco spied the curled up parchment hidden up his sleeve. “So it wouldn’t be for long.”

Draco glanced at his desk, to the fireplace, then back to his son. “I don’t…”

I want my friends…friendshow often had Astoria lamented his lack of playmates as a child, how often had she fretted that Scorpius’ only interaction had been with adults—or books, or enchanting his own toys for someone to play with. And how quickly had Scorpius’ face crumpled at the utterance of two simple syllables. 

“…know if two weeks would be wise, given your mother’s health. She’s still recovering from the move. But I shall discuss it with her, and see what can be done.”

Scorpius stilled, the beaming smile on his face reigned in to something calmer, even now, not wanting to get his hopes up too much. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, we will be good.”

Draco snorted at that, remembering the last time a Malfoy, a Potter and a Granger and a Weasley had been together at their age. “Somehow I doubt it. Go on off you go, go see what your mother is up to. She’s enjoying having you home.”

“And I am enjoying being here,” Scorpius replied, in that curiously courteous and stiff way of speaking he’d always had, even as an infant learning his words. “I am happy to be here, with you, and mother.”

“I’m…very glad to hear it.” Draco replied, unsure what else he was supposed to say to such an open admission said so politely like one was discussing the weather. “Now go on, off you go, I need to finish this manuscript before I lose the thought.”

“You’ll talk to mother though, wont you?” Scorpius pressed from his space by the door. “You’ll ask…”

“Yes, yes.” Draco waved a hand, “I’ll ask if the Potter spawn can come stay with us. Just for a little bit. To say thank you for…everything.”

Reassured, Scorpius left, closing the door behind himself with a firm click. 

Draco waited several more moments, counting to a hundred before opening up the top desk of his drawer and pulling out his correspondence folder, flipping through them until he found the appropriate manila envelope, writing the address of the Ministry Neatly to the front. 

Clearing his throat politely, he composed himself, then tapped it to life with his wand.

“Hello Potter,” he spat with a vicious familiar glee, unable to keep from laughing, “I’m not sure which one of us is going to be more surprised by this turn of events, but I swear to gods if you break my son’s heart by saying no, I will personally send you a red Howler on the hour every hour till the day one of us dies. Now, about dates, the last week in June works well for us…”

Mischievous Maintenance (M)

Summary: You have an eventful Monday, thanks to the ever-resourceful head maintenance technician who works in your office.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 6,913

Warning: MaintenanceTechnician!Jimin, workplace hookup, sexual themes, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, profanity

Series: Working Man Bangtan

A/N: Hope you enjoy this quick and dirty oneshot!

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Sleep tight

“This is ridiculous!”

For once in his life, Harry heartily agreed with Malfoy. This really was ridiculous. What was Dumbledore thinking? True, things had gone a bit out of hand after the last Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin but that didn’t justify… this!

“How am I supposed to concentrate on my O.W.L.s when I have to put up with a bunch of pillocks?!”

“Stop complaining, Malfoy. It won’t change anything,” Terry Boot called from across the dorm. Their newly shared dorm. One student from each house, that was the new rule. Dumbledore had announced it two weeks ago and Harry’s only consolation was that he was still in Gryffindor tower, in his own bed, while the other Gryffindors had moved into other dorms.

Harry still wasn’t convinced this would do anything for house unity. So far, Malfoy had picked a fight with Terry every time they were in the same room and he had even tried to hex Justin Finch-Fletchley once. As much as it annoyed Harry, at least it diverted Malfoy’s attention away from him. He really wasn’t in the mood to fight. He missed Ron. Seeing him in classes but not sharing a dorm just wasn’t the same.

“Potter! Get your filthy Quidditch robes away from my bed,” Malfoy growled, nudging the red and gold robes on the floor with his foot. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Will you relax? They’re nowhere near your bed,” Harry said exasperatedly.

“They are on my side of the room. Have you forgotten everything I told you about boundaries?” Malfoy fumed, drawing an invisible line between their beds with his hand, as he had done on their first day as dormmates.

Harry heard Terry snort.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that”? Malfoy whirled around and gave Terry a dangerous look. Harry expected them to have another shouting match but Terry just shook his head and waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“If you have something to say, just say it!” Malfoy approached Terry, his hands on his hips.

“You of all people do not want me to say this out loud, believe me,” Terry said unblinking. Malfoy scrutinised him and Harry noticed a strange expression flicker across his face. “Unless you want to explain why these boundaries don’t seem to apply to you. Especially-”

“Are you trying to blackmail me? With something that you clearly imagined?” Malfoy interrupted him. His body was rigid and his face was inches away from Terry’s. The Ravenclaw smirked, his eyes darting over to Harry and then back to Malfoy.

“You know, Malfoy,” Terry said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a smug expression on his face. “I always suspected you’d feel right at home in the Gryffindor dorms but I had no idea you’d get that cosy.”

Harry reacted on instinct when he saw Malfoy draw his wand. He grabbed his own from the nightstand and pointed it at Malfoy.

“Expelliarmus,” he yelled. Malfoy’s wand flew across the room and Harry caught it with his free hand. “Seriously, Malfoy? What is wrong with you?” Harry watched as Malfoy’s shoulders slightly slumped. Without another word he stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that all about?” Harry murmured. He gave Terry a puzzled look. The Ravenclaw just sighed.

“Honestly, I don’t want to get in the middle of this, but Malfoy just… ugh!” Terry stomped his foot once and shook his head. “It’s really between the two of you.”

“The two of us?” Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he and Malfoy could be referred to as ‘the two of you’. All he and Malfoy ever did was fight. Or ignore each other. Well, pretend to ignore each other would probably be more accurate.

“I really don’t want to be hexed in my sleep,” Terry groaned. “But… maybe try to be a bit more alert tonight, Harry. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, completely at loss.

“Okay,” he mumbled, wondering what on earth Terry was on about.


Draco sighed as he leaned his head against Harry’s nightstand. It really wasn’t fair. He watched as Harry’s chest rose and fell steadily, his face looking softer than ever in the moonlight. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Slowly, his fingers rose to Harry’s forehead to brush his bangs out of his face. He looked so peaceful.

It really wasn’t Draco’s fault he stayed up night after night to watch Harry sleep like a total creep. The first time it had happened, Draco had been wakened by a soft whimper. Investigating it further, he had seen Harry all sweaty and thrashing in his bed. Draco had intended to wake him, but as soon as he had leaned down, Harry had grabbed him and had pulled him down.

At first, Draco hadn’t been sure if Harry was awake or still asleep. He had gone very still when Harry had clutched at him until he had finally wrapped him in his arms and had almost strangled Draco. His face had been pressed against Harry’s chest, the Gryffindor’s heartbeat drumming against his cheek. It had been the most amazing thing Draco had ever felt.

He hadn’t dared to fall asleep that night. Seeing as Harry had finally calmed down with Draco in his arms, Draco had supposed it would be better to stay there until dawn. With Harry being restless in the bed beside him, he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep anyway.

After that, Draco had made a habit of watching Harry sleep. His touch seemed to calm the Gryffindor whenever he seemed to have a bad dream. But he hadn’t pulled Draco into his bed again. Draco didn’t want to admit to himself that he was secretly waiting for it to happen once more but he found himself leaning closer to his so-called enemy with every passing night.

As his fingers continued to stroke the soft curls, he frowned. No, Harry wasn’t his enemy at night. During the day, Draco kept up his snarky attitude and his animosity. But at night, there was no need for that. At night, he could simply stare at the boy who made his heart beat faster, who made his scalp prickle and who was responsible for the smile Draco had to hide once dawn was breaking.

Sometimes, Draco wished he didn’t have to hide it, could show it openly and let the stupid git know.

It really wasn’t fair.


Harry held his breath when he felt Malfoy’s fingers brush his ear. His heartbeat picked up instantly and he was pretty sure he was blushing. His cheeks suddenly felt really hot, as did the rest of his body.

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anonymous asked:

Headcanons for losers club meeting in group therapy.

I took this a bit further than I meant to, I hope you like it though because I love addressing mental health
(I based it off my own experiences and knowledge so I’m so so sorry if anything is not accurate)

- They all have the same therapist (she’s called Jackie) but they’ve never met each other

- she takes them all for different things

- Bill has depression from loosing his brother (‘n-n-not dead…j-j-just m-m-missing) and anger issues from getting frustrated with his stutter

- Beverly has depression and PTSD from her father and addiction to smoking

- Ben has social anxiety and topophobia from moving so much and getting bullied

- Mike has insomnia and PTSD from his parents death and having to work on the farm

- Richie has ADHD, bipolar disorder and addiction to smoking just from genetics and how his parents treat him

- Stan has chronic OCD and anxiety from his father being a perfectionist

- Eddie has chronic Mysophobia , anxiety and is the worst hypochondriac she’s ever seen

- She has problems with all of them being closed off for some reason

- Bill doesn’t like talking because when he tries to talk about loosing his brother his stutter gets worse, then he gets frustrated and gets overwhelmed

- Beverly just can’t bring herself to talk about it, talking about her dad sets off her PTSD and she gets super defensive about her smoking

- Ben is actually quite intimidated by Jackie, he knows deep down that she wants to help but can’t help but feel like he’s just putting his problems on someone else’s shoulders

- Mike is the easiest one to open up, he needs to know that someone is there and supporting him but at the same time he can’t talk about his parents without tearing up

- Richie talks about everything that isn’t his problems and wastes their hour pretty much every time, although some days he comes in and pours his little heart out

- Stan has told himself if he lets people know about his problems and says them out loud then it’ll make it all worse

- Eddies the only one who’ll willingly talk about what’s happening although he’s insecure about telling her incase she thinks he’s stupid

- so basically, she has a hard time with all of them but she still wants to help them all so bad

- So she proposes to her team leader that she should have an extra session with them once a week where they’re all together

- once she gets the all clear, she tells them about it

- They all agree sounded slightly worried and unwilling, other than Richie who was having a fantastic day and is ready to meet his new fucking friends

- the first session was…interesting to say the least

- Jackie set the chairs in a circle

- the first to arrive was Stan, he always needed to be early no matter what incase he missed something and took the seat next to Jackie

- Eddie was the second to arrive, he took the seat on the other side of her

- As a therapist, this warmed her heart as she knew they did that to feel safer

- She introduced them and got them talking about why bedrooms should be kept tidy, needless to say they become friends right away

- Bill was the third to arrive, he had gotten the wrong room at first and was kinda upset

- he walked in whispering the paragraph that helped his stutter, looking down

- He didn’t look up until he was sitting down at the furthest seat from Jackie in the circle

- She started to introduce them but he honestly wasn’t listening, he was too busy staring at the cute boy with curly hair in front of him

- Stan catches him staring but that doesn’t stop him, he just watches as Stan’s cheeks redden

- next to arrive is Ben and Mike, they weren’t really friends yet but they helped each other find the room

- And finally, Bev and Richie walked in taking as if they had been friends for years (slightly late)

- apparently Richie’s lighter had given up on him so Bev offered hers up, they became friends pretty quickly

- Ben is awestruck by Bev

- They both sat in the remaining two seats left

- As soon as Richie sat down he noticed the small boy next to Jackie and ended up doing the exact thing Bill did with Stan

- Jackie goes around the circle, asking everyone to introduce themselves and their problem and also say how they’re feeling today

- When it comes to Richie, he’s still looking at Eddie

- ‘I’m Richie, I have ADHD and I’m so fucking gay right now’

- Everyone (including Jackie) laughs, they like Richie already

- The session went okay, nothing too interesting happened and they just talked about stuff

- Jackie definitely noticed how they became more open as the hour passed by

- Although Richie spends most the time flirting with Eddie

- Stan leaves last, Bill waits for him by the front door and Stan swears he didn’t tear up a little

- Bill does this and walks Stan home after every session, after the sixth time they start holding hands

- Eddie eventually grows super fond of Richie so one day when said boy walks in and doesn’t talk or even really look up the whole hour, Eddie is pretty worried

- after the session, Jackie asks to talk to Richie privately and Eddie waits by the front of the building even though it’s raining

- Richie comes out after ten minutes, sniffling with red tearful eyes

- ‘Oh hey, Eddie spaghetti….isn’t your mom worried you’re not home yet?’

- 'I’m more concerned about you than my mom right now’

- Richie offers to walk Eddie home, giving Eddie his black denim jacket littered with patches somewhere along the way

- Richie also uses this time to explain his ADHD and bipolar disorder to Eddie

- 'Is there any chance I could get my jacket back? I’ll probably stay out for a bit’

- 'Sure…why are you staying out if it’s raining?’

- 'Just, parents and stuff yanno’

- with that, Eddie demands Richie stay over until his mum comes back or the rain stops

- Ben starts writing little notes and poems which he puts on Bev’s seat before every session and are signed anonymously

- Bev thinks it’s Bill at first but she sees Stan and Bill holding hands on the way home so she crosses him off the list

- one day, whilst she’s out smoking to get away from her dad she bumps into Richie

- she decides he’s a good smoking buddy and they become close, sneaking out pretty much every night to smoke together

- Richie saw Ben putting a note on Bev’s seat one day and honestly he just can’t keep it to himself

- 'Why don’t you ask Ben if he’s your secret admirer?’

- 'I might just do that’

- She leaves a note on his seat one day, with her number and the words 'my heart burns there too’

- To say Jackie is pleased with them and her decision to make their group is an understatement

You know what to do (add more) - xo

Bruise [ III ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 9.1k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by porkdo-bi

The white cream swirled about in the dark coffee in front of you, your fingers clasped around the warm, pastel orange mug as the steam floated up in hazy waves. There were signs of life all around you, couples sharing intimate lunches and students laughing away their course work. The street outside the window in front of you was busy, bustling with people and lined with fall kissed trees, branches adorned in warm tones, rustling when a breeze blew. Despite the heat of life all around you, you felt cold, like your bones were made of ice, like your heart was encased in snow. The book across the table was pushed aside as Minseok sat back down, coffee in hand and round golden glasses perched on his nose as he exhaled heavily, ready to listen.

“Do you want to start or should I?”

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little tattoos part ii

this is part two to little tattoos! 

you can read part one here

thank you guys sososoosos much for all the love on this fic. it was tbh a shower thought that evolved into so much more. im so very proud of this fic and i plaN to write another part, maybe two.

so YEAH 

thank you guys so much. it makes me so happy to see that people like my writing. i hope you all enjoy part two of little tattoos <3

summary: a soulmate au where everyone has a tattoo exactly like their soulmate

pairing: eddie and richie

words:  2085


Eddie sighed, approaching his house. He really wasn’t in the mood to convince his mom to let him go to Bill’s. He had gone over there seemingly a thousand times over the course of the past three years, but he still had to argue with his mother for at least twenty minutes before she’d let him leave.

His mom still, daily, tried to convince him that he did indeed have an illness; but he knew better.

Eddie’s mother nearly pounced on him when he opened the front door. “Eddie dear, come on, take your pills! You need them!” She said, so shrill it sounded like nails on a chalkboard to him.

He shook his head and got out of her grip easily, backing away and up the stairs. Eddie ignored his mother’s pleas until he shut his bedroom door and couldn’t hear her anymore. The small boy threw his backpack on his bed and threw his jacket into his closet, not bothering to hang it up. Eddie pushed back the door of his closet, finding a reflection of himself staring back. He frowned a little, looking his small figure up and down disapprovingly. Eddie bit his lip, slowly pulling his shirt up and over his head. His eyes scoured every millimeter of his bare chest and back. He thought that maybe one day the universe would decide to give him a tattoo, a soulmate, but there was never anything.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing on his body, and he hated it.

Why him? Why did he have to have no soulmate? It’s not fair.

Eddie angrily slammed the door shut completely, causing the mirror to fall off the door. It hit the wood floor of his bedroom and shattered into millions of tiny pieces.

“Oh God, oh fuck” He grumbled, going out into the hall closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He cleaned up what he could, which was most of it, praying his mother hadn’t heard anything. If she did, he’d be in the ER before he could even protest or explain what had happened. He went to pick up the last piece and as he stood up to put it in the trash, he clumsily dropped it. Eddie hissed at the sharp pain that went through his hand. A small gash started to bleed on his right knuckle, right under a circular, blotchy birthmark. He swore quietly to himself, going to the bathroom and easily disinfecting the cut. He put a small piece of gauze and a bandage on it, deciding that was alright for now.

Eddie grabbed his shirt and threw it over his head, heading down the stairs quickly. His mother sat in her usual spot in front of the TV. She glanced up and upon seeing her son, she tried to get up as quickly as a woman like her could. By the time she got up and ran out onto the porch, he was gone. Eddie was too fast. He was already outside and on his bike, half a block away. After years of evading her, he learned to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

He arrived at Bill’s about five minutes later, hopping off his bike and propping it up against the side of the house. Eddie strode up to the door and knocked, waiting patiently. Stan answered the door, looking disheveled. His hair was a mess. It was usually a mess, but not like this. His lips were a bit puffy and red.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Glad to know I’ll be the cockblock this evening.” He joked, walking inside the house and kicking off his shoes near Bill’s bedroom door.

Bill chuckled a bit, and Stan shot Eddie a look. Eddie smiled innocently, walking in and sitting down on a beanbag on the floor.

“Eddie!” Georgie yelled, nearly tackling the small boy off the beanbag in a hug. Bill’s little brother was the sweetest kid, and Eddie loved him. The whole Loser’s Club loved him.

“Hey, Georgie! How are you, buddy?” He asked, Georgie, sitting down next to him.

“I’m good! What about you?” Georgie asked brightly.

Eddie nodded. “I’m good,” he said casually.

Georgie looked at Bill and Stan across the room, both of them deep into a conversation about what movie to watch. He glanced at Eddie before giggling. “Billy and Stan think you like Richie.”

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped. Was it that obvious?

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the little boy. “Why do they think that?”

Georgie giggled again and whispered, “It’s a secret.” before running out of the room, still giggling.

Bill and Stan decided on Buffy the Vampire Slayer after about five solid minutes of arguing. They popped the VHS tape and started to watch. About halfway through, Eddie noticed that Bill kept sneaking glances at him. He turned his head and saw Bill looking at him once again. “Is something wrong?” He asked, reaching over and pausing the movie with the remote. Stan looked at Bill and nodded, clearly knowing something Eddie didn’t.

“We know you like Richie.” Stan deadpanned, and Bill smacked his arm.

Eddie frowned. “I do not like Trashmouth! Plus, even if I did, which I don’t, he has a soulmate. It wouldn’t work.”

Bill shook his head. “Y-You don’t know that, E-E-Eddie.”

Eddie stood up. “Yes, I do! I’ve had a crush on that damn boy for years! I know I have no soulmate, I know I have no chance, and I want to stop talking about him so I can get over him.”

Stan looked at Bill. “Told you he’d crack.”

Eddie sighed, sitting back down on the beanbag. He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out air through his nose slowly.

“Y-Y-Y-You should tell him,” Bill stated, glancing at Eddie, who immediately shook his head.

“There is no way in hell I am telling him. Nu uh, no.” Eddie said, shaking his head again.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Just tell him, Eddie! You never know.”

After ten minutes of debate, Eddie finally gave in. He walked into school the next day absolutely petrified. Bill and Stan had convinced him to confess his feelings to Richie and he said he’d do it today. But now that he was actually at school, he couldn’t do it. He found himself reaching for his invisible fanny pack for his inhaler until he realized he didn’t need it.

Eddie walked up to his locker, entering the combo and getting his books out. He felt an arm fall around his shoulder.

“Hey, Eds!” Richie said brightly, pinching his cheek. Eddie slapped his hand off and shoved his arm off of his frame. The smile slipped off Richie’s face, but he managed to keep a small one. “What’s wrong, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Stop calling me that,” Eddie grumbled, shutting his locker and turning the combination lock to 0.

Richie followed behind Eddie as he walked off, watching as he strode into his English class without a goodbye, and Richie couldn’t understand why Eddie was so upset. He never intended to upset him, if he did, but half the time Richie didn’t even realize he upset anyone.

The rest of that day, Eddie tried his best to avoid Richie. He took different routes to his classes in the hallways, he ate in the library at lunch, and the only place he couldn’t avoid Richie in was gym class. The gym teacher was very adamant about changing into gym clothes and then changing back into the clothes you were wearing. Eddie hated it, especially today, but he did it anyway. He waited until no one was in the locker room, or he thought no one was in the locker room to change back into his normal clothing. He avoided Richie during their class-wide game of soccer and he thought he was home free; he wasn’t.

The locker room door slammed shut and momentarily, Eddie panicked, thinking it was the Bower’s gang. But he panicked even more with the realization that Richie had shut the door.

“Richie, please-”

“No, Eds! I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what I did.” Richie said sternly as if he was scolding him.

“You didn’t do anything, Richie, let me leave, please.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

Eddie shook his head, trying to get past Richie. He repeated his question but Eddie still shook his head.

Richie was getting annoyed. “If it’s not me, then what the fuck was it? Did Henry do something? Did your mom do something? Other than me last night, of course.”

Eddie tried to get past Richie again and he got pushed back.

Eddie groaned in annoyance. “I can’t tell you,” he mumbled, wringing his hands together in a vain attempt to calm himself down.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t!” Eddie argued, gripping his hands together tightly. His knuckles were turning white. “I can’t!”

Richie was getting mad too. “Yes, you fucking can!”

“Goddammit, I’m in love with you, Richie!” Eddie hissed, feeling his hands start to shake from anger and fear and everything in between. “I’m so in love with you, but guess what? You have a soulmate, I don’t, and I don’t need to intentionally break my own heart!” Eddie ran out past a shell-shocked Richie, knocking into him with his shoulder on the way out. Richie didn’t move a muscle. His eyes were watering and he tried to wipe the water away as quick as he could, but they soon became to be too many tears. Eddie was sobbing. His chest hurt in a way he could never describe. It felt like his heart had literally broken. His chest physically hurt as he collapsed on the pavement outside the school. He grabbed the light blue inhaler that was in his back pocket and took two puffs. His breathing was normal, but he knew he had to leave. Eddie got on his bike and rode home.

Eddie went inside the back door, trying to be as quiet as possible so he could sneak up to his room. He turned the corner and dashed up the stairs, closing his door and propping a chair up under the door handle. He didn’t wanna deal with his mother right now, or anytime at all for that matter. He fell back onto his bed, sighing. Eddie held his hand over his head, studying the cut he got from the broken mirror. It was healing properly and wasn’t infected.

After about thirty minutes of off and on crying, Eddie heard an inconsistent tapping on his window. He tried to ignore it but after five minutes of it, he had had enough. He opened the window with force, just to get hit in the cheek with a small pebble. Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie, who said “sorry” and put down the few rocks he had in his hand. “Listen, Eds-”

“Leave me alone, Richie. I don’t want your sympathy, I don’t want your pity, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Just hear me ou-”

“No! I will not hear you out! You’ll climb up here, say you’re sorry and that you don’t feel the same way and that you want to stay friends. I won’t do that. I won’t. Leave me the fuck alone.” Eddie stated, slamming his window shut and drawing the navy blue curtains. The tapping stopped, and he hoped Richie walked away. He laid back down on his bed, glancing over at the wall beside him. Polaroids of him and Richie scattered the wall, along with pictures of the rest of the Loser’s club from a campfire last summer.

“Richie, don’t be an idiot! You are going to burn yourself!” Eddie scolded, getting up to shove him backward away from the fire.

“I’m not an idiot, Eds, I’m a genius in disguise.” Richie retorted, plopping back down onto the grass beside Eddie.

Beverly had taken a picture at that moment and that was Eddie’s favorite polaroid he had tacked to his wall. To this day, Richie still insisted that he was “a genius in disguise.”

Then Eddie remembered what had happened. He felt his eyes water with tears and his vision blurred as he cried softly, eventually running out of energy and falling asleep, face streaked with tears.

Richie had taken a long way home, trying to clear his head. By the time he got back to his house, he had a plan.

But he needed help from the Losers.


HELLo YEs

thank you so much for reading part two

would y’all like a part three? 

im so down to write it i haVE SO MANY IDEAS

masterlist

request to be on the tag list/talk to me

thank you for reading <3

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The Reunion

Originally posted by lovelynemesis

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader - Avengers x female!Reader

Request: Hey Bae 😚 would you like to do an imagine where you were Buckys wife in the 40s and after he got taken by Hydra you went through the same fate. Now 70 years later they found you during a mission captured and take you to the compound. Bucky feels overly happy but fears you won’t recognise him, but you do. So over the time you slowly get along with the new life and also your feelings for Buck didn’t change, you just experience a more intense love life 😉 this would be great & some smut hehe -anon

Warnings: Smut/NSFW (18+) - fingering and oral (female receiving) - some language - a wee bit o’ angst

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: College is really stressful and I’ve had such a bad mental week, it’s been great. Any ways, here’s some good ol’ smut! There’s plenty more where this came from, so I hope it’s what you were searchin’ for. Requests/asks are still open, so feel free to drop somethin’!


Bucky’s P.O.V.

Y/N. Her name was Y/N.

It’s missions that this that remind me of her. The flakes falling around us bitterly kiss my face as Steve and I trudge through endless mounds of snow, heading for the large, rusted metal door embedded in the rough stone of the mountain. This is where I was kept under HYDRA control - where my previous life has ended and this new one began.

Y/N was my comfort - she kept me grounded. We had first met during a night-out in the city. I had convinced Stevie to go to a club with me, and she was the first woman I saw when I stepped into the dim room. We spent the whole night drinking and chatting, and by the end of the night, I knew she was the one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with - I just never knew our time together would be so short.

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Skyline {VI}

Originally posted by tomhollanderr

Warnings: Language, blood mention, panic attack

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Oh my god you guys!!  I have so much to discuss but first and foremost I want to thank all of you for making this story into what it is.  I started this story two weeks ago and in those two weeks I’ve gained almost 2000 followers and have had success that I never even dreamed of.  Thank you so much for all that you’ve done for me, for this story, and hopefully for stories I write in the future!!! Skyline wouldn’t be what it is today without you guys.  Secondly, there will be a pt. 7!!!  I know I keep saying this, but I really did mean for this to be the last part.  It’s just that there are so many things I want to include and plot points I want to flesh out, and although I feel bad for writing angst chapter after angst chapter, I want to give you guys my all and I don’t want to short change you.  Finally, I would like to thank my friends Zoe and Jen for helping me brainstorm ideas and helping finalize details and plot points.  I love you guys so so much!!  Also, everyone, again, I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!! I put this at the beginning of every chapter, it’s in my bio, and I’ve made multiple posts but people keep spamming me about it.  I am truly not trying to be mean, but I do my best to respond to every ask and message I get, and having to sort through a million people asking the same question is hard guys!!!.  Before, I go, one last thing: because everyone has sent me in songs that they listen to that remind them of Skyline, I compiled them into a playlist along with ones I listen to!!  Please give it a listen and try to listen in order, as the songs follow the storyline.  Link is below.  Enjoy everyone!!

skyline: a mixtape

{part i} {part ii} {part iii} {part iv} {part v} 

Waking up the next morning was hard.  Sleep was like temporary amnesia, and when you awoke alone in bed, your hand automatically reached out for the note that Spider-Man always left before he disappeared every night.  Instead of feeling the usual smooth sheet of paper, however, you felt empty sheets that seemed colder than ever before.  It was then that the events of the previous night tumbled into your head, from your request to know Spider-Man’s identity, to him saying I love you for the first time, to you giving him up.

You groaned and rubbed your hand across your face, fatigue taking over.  More than anything, you wanted to fake an illness, stay in bed all day, and wallow in your thoughts, but you knew you had to get up. Although the breakup hurt you (did it count as a breakup if you were never really together in the first place?), you knew you made the right choice.  There was no way a relationship with a superhero would work out if the significant other didn’t know who they were; if you were to fall in love, you would need to be able to fall completely.

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Breaking the Rules - part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

SummaryModern!AU You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Word Count:1,957

Warnings: Hate to Love, Fake Dating, Snarky Remarks, Language

A/N: Okay, just a warning, there will be a lot of OCs in this series (mostly Bucky’s sisters and parents) Hope you like the first chapter :)

Breaking the Rules - Masterpage

Originally posted by winter-barnes

You loved Natasha’s apartment. It was spacious and bright and she had a great view of the city. There was just one teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy problem… you hated her neighbour.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

Natasha introduced you to Bucky a little over a year ago. Her fiancé, Clint, adored him and Bucky always stopped by their apartment. The boys would stay in the living room and watch TV while you and Natasha gossiped and drank wine in the kitchen.

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The Color Of My World // A Stiles Stilinski AU

Prompt: Soulmate AU where for your entire life you’ve only ever seen black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your very eyes. But, what would you do if you found out your soulmate was the one person your current boyfriend hates the most in this world?

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Reader/Theo Raeken x Reader/Stiles Stilinski x OFC/Theo Raeken x OFC

Warnings: Intimate Dancing, Kissing, Swearing, and Future Smut (I gotta build it up first y’all but smut is coming)

Song: Flaslight by Jessie J (Cover by Leroy Sánchez)

Word Count: 3,157

A/N: Y’all this was a long time coming. This series is so incredibly important to me, it took me months on end to write. This is without a doubt my favorite story I have written so far and has become my baby. Special thanks to @sarcasticallystilinski for reading it over and supporting me! I really hope you guys love this as much as I do.

P.s. All of the songs will be in Stiles’ POV and, Oh My God, I highly recommend you listen to them after every part to know what’s going on in his mind throughout the story. 

Love, Soulmates and Colors are the three words I despise the most in this world. They ring in my ears like sharp nails scratching against a dry chalkboard and, yet, it seems to be all everyone ever talks about.

“When will I find my soulmate?”

“All I ever see is black and white, I hope one day I’ll meet her and see color.”

“Wait, what do you mean you’re only seeing blue?”

Everyone on this God forsaken planet can only see the dull shades of black and white. However, rumor has it, that that completely changes when you meet your soulmate - as if that bullshit actually exists. Apparently, the moment your skin touches theirs, your entire world becomes vibrant with color and life.

I don’t believe it for one second. Not because I’m bitter or anything, but because I’ve never actually met anyone who can see in color and, therefore, I don’t believe that possibility exists. What would a world full of color even look like? I’m so used to the reality of black and white that the idea of shades other than these two seem so foreign and impossible.

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Do you want to play with us?

Originally posted by litourgiya

Pairing: IvarxReaderxHvitserk
Rating: Explicit
Words: 8587
Tagging: @inthenameofodin @tiyetiye @rockyrascal

Warning: Smut, dom/sub dynamic, cursing, hair pulling, rough sex, spitting, spanking, orgasm denial/delayed. (I suck at warning tags so if you think one needs to be added, please tell me.)

Notes: My first threesome and let me tell you it was hard to write! First time writing Hvitserk too, I hope it went well. Sorry for the length, I don’t know how this monstrosity ended with so many words but I hope it’s worth it. Thank you for your advice concerning it. Ivar and Hvitserk love each other in this (take notes Hirst). Again, sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy, sisters! 


King Ivar and his great army advanced through England quite easily, pillaging and killing every single person that stood on their way. Today was a great day for the King; he had won the ultimate battle that raged for almost four months. He had slaughtered the entire royal family without a second thought and had taken the praised crown of York. Soon, the news would spread, giving Ivar the fame he craved, the fame he deserved. For he was the most brutal yet the most worthy man you ever met. The kind of man you dreamt of but never could admit it out loud. It didn’t help that he was unfairly attractive. So attractive that even Balder, the most beautiful god in Asgard, would be jealous. 

You tried to fight the attraction you had for him but you couldn’t fight the feelings you felt in his presence. You couldn’t deny the wetness between your legs every time he roared one of his clever speeches, perched proudly upon his throne or his chariot. You couldn’t deny the dreams you had. Him above you, taking whatever he wanted from your willing and helpless body.

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Passionfruit | 3

“To you, matters of the heart have always been simple. You’ve always lived by three rules: you don’t do emotions, you don’t do attachment, and you don’t do love. That is, until you meet the enigma that is Kim Namjoon- a man who shakes your entire world upside down.”

pairing: namjoon x reader
genre: smut, angst
wordcount: 8.4k

part one | two | three

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say you won’t let go | 02

↳ part 01 | part 02 [final]

Summary: You’ve been eighteen years old for ten years when Jungkook first moves in.
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Angst; Roommate/Soulmate AU (In which you stop aging when you turn 18 until you meet your soulmate) 
Word Count: 9,494

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The next morning, you show up to work very early and very unannounced. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at your presence, having not expected you until later in the afternoon, but he must see a look in your eyes that you cannot figure out yourself, because he doesn’t speak about it. He simply lets you work, pretending as if the stress and anxiety isn’t threatening to eat you out alive as you shuffle back and forth across the floor.

You appreciate this, and are glad that Namjoon is selecting not to comment on your behavior, while it might be off-putting and slightly abnormal, it helps you stay distracted. In truth, leaving early for work had been a very conscious decision on your part, since it wasn’t necessarily putting a damper on your sleep schedule—you had only managed about an hour of proper before spending the rest of the evening just shifting about in your bed or pacing around the room.

Jungkook had still been sleeping around the 7:00 hour, which was perfectly fine with you. The conversation from the previous night plagues your mind if you let yourself stand still for too long, and you worry that if you were to look the boy in the eye right now while the feelings are still fresh, he would figure out what was on your mind immediately. You try to convince yourself that Jungkook doesn’t remember the conversation, that those things have just turned into faded and blurry specs in his memory, which helps in your distraction. It helps lessen your apprehension. With the potential of Jungkook pulling up a blank on his conversation with you, it leaves you believing that the simple factor of time was what you needed. It would give Jungkook the space to sleep off his hangover, as it would give you the space to sort through your own emotions and to train yourself into pretending that last night simply had not happened.

According to Hoseok, it’s not a very good plan. And he’s right. Your plans usually always have a way of coming back to bite you back on the ass. But you’re stubborn and afraid; the combination more than enough to control you into believing that this would be the best response to the situation.

Hoseok just shakes his head.

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Seniors

“Is it on?”

“Don’t you see the red light?” Bill shook his head and thumped his hand on the side of the bulky camera. There was a few seconds of frizzling sounds before it beeped awake. He looked through the viewfinder and was able to get a slightly foggy vision of their classroom, he moved slightly and it zoomed right in on Richie’s gigantic glasses.

“Get my good side Bill!” Richie chuckled as Bill tried to figure out how to zoom out.

“You don’t have one!” Came Stans voice from his desk to the right. Bill followed the sound and focused directly on him. Stan was sitting at his desk with folded hands over his color coded binder. He avoided looking at the camera entirely. Bill looked down at the blinking year in the corner and smiled.

“Where d-do you think you’ll be in t-ten years, Stan?” Bill asked the one question he’d been assigned to ask his senior class. Though he knew he would end up without much footage of anyone else besides the losers club.

“Hopefully I won’t know Richie anymore.” Stan joked and Richie objected loudly from his desk. Bill zoomed in on Stan writing his name in the corner of his paper, writing the date of their last day of high school. “I don’t know…a teacher maybe?” He shrugged. The bell rang momentarily and Bill moved to get some shots of the approaching senior class. Their teacher hopping directly out of shot.

“A-and there s-s-she is, finally.” Bill teased and moved the camera onto Beverly, five minutes late. She curtsyed and gave him the finger. She narrowed her eyes at the camera and inspected it.

“What’s with the camera?” She crossed her arms.

“He’s filming the last day of high school cause he’s a dork!” Richie shouted once again from his desk and Bill got a beautiful shot of Beverly throwing her head back in laughter. She glanced back at the camera from over her shoulder.

“W-where ya gonna be in ten years, B-Bev?”

She tapped her chin in thought and licked her lips. “Well I’d like to be in art…Y'know drawings good.” She shrugged, a little awkwardly. And Bill took the opportunity to zoom in on her. She glared at the sound and pushed him away. The screen going black. The last thing heard was a teasing “Fuck off Bill”

—Cut—-

The fuzziness focuses to the setting of the lunch room, Bill twirls the camera around to spy on fellow students before he heard a voice call to him “Get footage of the cutest couple in the school!” so Bill turned back and adjusted the camera to capture Mike giving him the thumbs up as he leaned in front of Richie who had his arm slung over Eddie, dragging a pen across an open yearbook. 

“What are ya d-doing, Rich?” Bill asked and zoomed in on the fast moving pen. 

“Signing Eds yearbook.” He smiled proudly and held up his work, The camera caught it before Bill could process what it was and what it was, was a crude inappropriate drawing. He quickly pulled the camera away, landing it on Ben who was working hard on decorating his graduation cap as a ‘Ah Jeez Richie, you couldn’t just sign it could you?, you shit!’ could be heard in the background.

“A-and w-where will you be in ten years, Ben?” Bill made sure to show off Ben’s handwork on his hat. Bev was curled up on the seat next to him, watching over his shoulder with a neglected peanut hanging from her hand, pointing towards her mouth. 

“Hopefully in architecture….”Ben glanced up at Bev when he thought she wasn’t looking, Bill caught the flicker in which Ben thought ‘And I hope she’s with me’. He smiled proudly at the shot. 

“Mike, t-ten years?” Bill moved over to get Mike in shot, who was throwing peanuts into Richie’s mouth. He made a long shot and smiled triumphantly. 

“With you guys, for sure.” Mike said without even a thought and tossed another peanut and the six of them ‘aw’d’ simultaneously. Bill couldn’t hold back his huge grin, but the camera blocked most of his face from his friends. He followed a lone peanut as it soared into Richie’s mouth. 

“R-Rich, Eddie, ten years?” 

Richie pulled Eddie close to his side. “With Eddies mom for sure.” Bill zoomed in close to get a tight shot of Eddies face and quickly had to zoom out to capture him pushing his side and knocking Richie onto the lunchroom floor. 

“If i’m still dealing with him in ten years…”Eddie looked dead into the camera with a begrudgingly happy annoyed face. 

“You’ll be one happy man, Eds!” Richie shouted from the floor. The camera faded to black to the sounds of their laughter. 

—Cut—-

The shot was a close one of Stan’s lightning fast hand, turning his lock to get into his locker. “H-he gets it right every time, folks.” Bill chuckled as he spoke to whatever audience was ever going to see this. “Never f-f-forgot his combo…n-never been locked out.” he continued as Stan urgently threw the door open to block Bills shot of him with a smile.

 “Him however….” Bill turned around and zoomed in one Richie trying to jerk his locker open with Eddie opening his like it was no problem at his side. Bill laughed to himself. Stan closed his locker door and started off to his class, Bill quickly chased after him. 

“A-a-any comments, S-stanley? I mean it’s your last day of high school?” He poked the camera in his face as Stan laughed. 

“Get that shitty thing out of my face!” He pushed Bills shoulder and the camera faded to black once again. 

—Cut—-

—”Ok, ok but what about you Bill?” Mike asked from his desk, pushing aside a textbook with an interested face. Bill shrugged to show him he needed to elaborate. Mike reached over and took the camera, capturing a few blurred whizzes around the classroom. He focused on Bill, behind him on the chalkboard were their last assignments as seniors. “Ten years…go” Mike captured the rolling gesture of his hand. Bill laughed in thought. 

“A writer…y’know t-t-those stories you a-all like so much. Maybe you’ll read them in a b-book someday.” He said with a mocking gusto. Mike chuckled and was able to capture the last bell of their school days. They gave each other the biggest grins and Mike zoomed in on the students passing the open door, all pushing against each other with excitement and shouting. At some point the kids in the hall seemed to split to opposite sides. Bill and Mike gave each other confused looks until…..

Richie whizzed down the hall and through Mikes shot on a small skateboard shouting along the way ‘We’re fuckin done here! after four years, woooooo’ Following after him, on running feet, were Beverly, Stan, Ben, and a very annoyed Eddie. 

“C’mon!” Mike handed Bill his camera and they both ran out to catch up. 

—Cut—

Bill was zoomed on rattling keys that were being shook in front of him. “Eddie’s letting me drive!” Richie shouted as he zoomed out to get a full shot of the group in front of Eddies car. 

“No he’s not!” Eddie shouted back, out of shot. Ben stuck his finger in his ear and cringed. 

“For such a small guy Eddie, you sure can yell.” He chuckled and Eddie snorted. Bill panned the camera to get a shot of each of his friends. Beverly stuck her tongue out, Mike pointed the classic finger guns, Ben just smiled, Stan looked away with a grin and chuckled, Richie winked and pulled Eddie into the view, who nodded with a smirk as if to say ‘Yup, this is my life right now…and I love it.’ 

—Cut—

The rest of the film Bill shot were odd clips of them in the car together. One of Beverly and Richie screaming the lyrics to ‘Back In Black’ 

—Cut—

Stan gazing happily out the window, quietly mouthing the words to ‘Imagine’ as his curls blew in the wind from the slightly cracked window.

—Cut—-

Mike reaching over his seat to shove Richie after some Joke he must’ve made and then Richie proceeding to grab his arm to pull him over the seat and onto Beverly, Stan and Himself. 

—-Cut—-

Ben waving his finished product, his decorated cap with a plaster picture of the seven of them, under it read ‘The Losers club’. A chorus of ‘yeahs!’ followed. 

—Cut—

Eddie playing it off like he wasn’t just passionately singing along to ‘Daydream Believer’ and shoving the camera away at the stoplight. 

—Cut—

half of one of Richie’s jokes

—Cut—-

all of them in hysterics, laughing so loud at god knows what. Beverly knocking her head back against the seat. Mike falling down to a laying position, undoubtedly clutching his stomach.  

—Cut—-

A shot of Bill, and everyone trying to squeeze in behind him at some gas station. 

the camera fades to black. 

—Cut—