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kaiyunsim · 2 months ago

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wildflower —

pairing : bf!woonhak x gn!reader

summary : you receive a text in the morning about a surprise date that woonhak planned, what really surprises you is that he brings you to a hidden patch of flowers

warnings : fluff, woonhak drives, woonhak is very clumsy but also so cute, wc : 2.2k

a/n : wrote this bc i ran into yung kai a while back :o his music is so beautiful omg. this was hiding in the drafts for a little too long

queueing : wildflower - yung kai, blue - yung kai, soft spot - keshi, i like u - niki, my heart it beats for you - grentperez

you wake up to a text from woonhak that just says: ‘dress cute? idk haha. also maybe bring snacks. :)’

you stare at the message, still half-asleep, but you smile a little. it’s very him. casual, chaotic, weirdly sweet. you throw on something comfortable, grab the snack bag you packed in case woonhak pulled something like this, and head downstairs just in time to see his car roll up.

he honks twice, then immediately looks like he regrets it. he’s sitting upright in the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the wheel like it’s an exam he didn’t study for. when you open the door, he stiffens for a second, then flashes a quick, slightly too big smile.

“hi,” he says, barely above a whisper, and looks straight ahead like someone seeing their middle school crush stare back at them.

he’s not messy, just… extremely deliberate. like he practiced how to say hi on the way over but still managed to mess it up. you slide into the seat beside him. he swallows.

“you good?” you ask, buckling in.

“yeah, yeah,” he says too fast. “just… excited. or something.”

you catch him glancing at you again as he pulls out of the driveway, and then again at the next stoplight. his face is already pink. it’s cute, but also charming.

five minutes into the drive, he says, “that color looks really nice on you,” then immediately adds, “i mean, the hoodie. your hoodie. i just like the... color. yeah.”

you blink at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “you’re such a dork.”

he groans, thumping his forehead lightly against the wheel. “i’m trying, okay? flirting is not my strength.”

“it’s not,” you agree, laughing. “but it’s kinda cute.”

that earns you a quiet “shut up” under his breath, but he’s smiling, so you let it slide.

he fiddles with the AUX cord at the next red light, scrolling through his phone with exaggerated concentration. then, suddenly—

“welcome back to tire time. today we’re breaking down the anatomy of a V6 engine—”

“oh my god—” he groans as he fumbles so hard he almost drops the phone, groaning. “that was not supposed to— ugh— here.” he shoves the phone toward you like it’s on fire. “you pick. just… not car parts.”

you scroll and find his, ‘skrrr’ playlist, the one you both made together for long drives. songs with ‘windows down’ energy and ‘nothing too serious’ lyrics. the car fills with something familiar and warm, and you settle in.

“see?” you say. “this is already better.”

“you’re better,” he says before thinking, and then immediately makes a face like he wants to rewind time. “i didn’t mean like�� wait. no. i did. but not— uh—”

you snort. “oh my god, again? you’re nervous at this point.”

“i’m not!” he insists, eyes glued to the road. “i just haven’t done… this before. the whole, like, surprise trip with someone i— uh... like. a lot.”

you glance over. he’s gripping the steering wheel like it might run away if he doesn’t.

“well, it’s cute and i appreciate it,” you say, softer now.

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for ten minutes. then he reaches into the bag wedged between the seats and pulls out your favorite snack, holding it out to you with both hands like it’s an offering.

“brought this for you,” he says. “well. for us. but mostly you.”

you take it, pretending to inspect it seriously. “hmm. this does improve the trip.”

“thank god,” he mutters, finally loosening up a little.

the drive stretches out into soft, golden morning light. the trees blur past, and the sky’s that barely-awake blue at around 6a.m. the music plays on low volume, and woonhak hums off-key to a song he only half-remembers.

you yawn, leaning against the window. you don’t mean to fall asleep, but the road feels endless, quiet, and safe.

when you start drifting off, woonhak sneaks a glance. just once. then again. he flushes, clears his throat, adjusts his grip on the wheel like it makes a difference. you shift slightly, and he stiffens, makes sure the road ahead is straight before reaching over to tug your seatbelt so it’s not caught under your arm. then he grips the wheel again, blinking hard to stay focused.

he doesn’t say it out loud, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says everything:

he likes driving you places. he likes when you’re here, even when you’re not saying anything. maybe especially when you are’nt.

the car ride slows into silence as woonhak pulls off the road and onto a narrow dirt path, tires crunching under loose gravel. you glance around, rubbing your eyes, expecting a park or trail sign, but there’s nothing. just trees and grass and morning light folding softly through it all.

he parks beside a half-bent fence and turns off the engine. “we’re here,” he says, like it’s obvious.

you raise an eyebrow. “...where?”

he smiles, almost proud, then hops out and comes around to your side. “you’ll see.”

you follow him across the grass, slightly damp from dew. he walks ahead with an eager pace, too quick, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t keep momentum. and then, of course, he trips over a root.

“wah!” he stumbles, arms flailing a bit before he regains balance, cheeks turning red. “i meant to do that.”

“uh huh,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“it’s dramatic effect,” he mumbles, brushing off his jeans. “like, boom. nature.”

but when you step around him, you stop. just beyond the uneven patch of trees is an open field. quiet, wide, and warm. the grass is tall and the sun’s low, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. a small patch of wildflowers dots the center like nature forgot to organize them. yellow, white, pale purple, a few strays in between.

you turn to him. he’s already watching you, smiling like he can’t help it.

“i found it by accident,” he says. “kinda cool, right?”

“it’s beautiful,” you breathe.

you wander into the flower patch without waiting, letting your fingers skim lightly over petals. up close, they’re even messier than they looked from afar, overgrown and mismatched and somehow perfect anyway.

you crouch down to look at one that’s half purple, half white, and when you glance back over your shoulder, woonhak is still watching. but not the flowers, you.

his expression is unreadable, not intense or overwhelming. just… soft. quiet. like he’s soaking the moment in and doesn’t want to disturb it.

you smile. “you’re not looking at the flowers.”

he blinks, caught. “what? i am. i totally am.”

you plop down in the grass, settling into a spot that feels just right. he follows, pulling the snack bag between you and popping something into his mouth immediately. he chews too loudly on purpose. “this is peak dating. snacks and pollen.”

you snort, tossing a gummy at him. it bounces off his hoodie. “you’re so dumb.”

“and yet, you’re here.”

funny conversations spark while you chat with him. he points out a bird that probably isn’t even rare, and you argue over whether a flower looks more like a cloud or a fried egg.

the breeze is gentle, enough to make the wildflowers sway in slow waves.

after a while, you pull out your phone. “take a photo of me?”

he perks up. “yeah, yeah! wait, let me make it look cool.”

you pose, half-silly, half-serious, and he crouches awkwardly to get a better angle. “okay… one, two— wait. your hair’s doing that thing. okay, three.”

the shutter clicks, and when you look over, woonhak is staring at the photo on his screen like he just uncovered treasure.

“what?” you ask.

he opens his mouth, then closes it again. then stares at the phone some more.

you crawl over to peek, and he tilts the screen. it’s a little blurry, but the lighting’s beautiful, your face lit up, eyes half-squinting from the sun. it’s candid and warm and very you.

he’s still looking at it when you say, “airdrop that to me.”

“right, yeah— totally... i was gonna— yeah.” he fumbles with the screen, accidentally turning on airplane mode before groaning and trying again.

you laugh. “you okay?”

“i just—” he rubs the back of his neck. “i’ve never had a photo of someone like that on my phone before. it’s like. really good. like too good. i don’t know what to do with it.”

you shrug. “just a picture.”

he hesitates, then glances toward the flowers, voice a little quieter. “you remind me of one of them.”

you look at him. “which one?”

he gestures vaguely toward the patch, no clear direction. “i dunno. just… one of them.”

you tilt your head, smiling. “what does that mean?”

he shakes his head, face pink. “nothing. just. you’ll get it eventually, maybe.”

you don’t, not yet at least. you just think it’s a sweet place he picked, a pretty field you’ll remember later.

he doesn’t say anything more. he just looks at you like whatever he meant is obvious. and maybe it is.

the drive home is quieter than the drive there.

no music, just the low hum of the engine and woonhak’s foot tapping nervously on the brake pedal every time the car idles. he’s staring straight ahead, chewing on his bottom lip like it’s a problem he can solve.

you peek at him as he finished parking by your house. “you okay?”

he clears his throat. “yeah. just. uh…” he swallows, then turns off the engine but doesn’t move. “…about the flower thing.”

you smile, soft and patient. “yeah?”

he glances over, then immediately looks back at the dashboard. “i— i saw this little white bloom when i came here last week. just one. it was growing kinda sideways. didn’t even know what it was called, but it caught my eye.”

you stay quiet, letting him take his time.

“i don’t know. the rest of the patch was, like, all colorful and big and… perfect,” he says, hands gesturing vaguely, “but that one wasn’t trying to stand out. it just… did. kinda like you do.”

your heart feels like it’s giving a small, surprised squeeze.

he sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “ugh, that sounded dumb.”

you reach for his hand across the console. he hesitates a beat, then lets your fingers lace with his. his hand is warm and slightly clammy, but he squeezes yours gently, like it grounds him.

“also,” he adds quickly, voice picking up speed, “i— uh— i checked with jaehyun hyung if this was, like, a good idea.”

you raise your eyebrows, amused. “you what?”

“he said flowers were cliché and kind of obvious, but that you’d probably like it anyway.” he groans. “he made fun of me. a lot.”

you laugh, not letting go of his hand. “he’s right about the cliché part.”

his face falls just a little.

“but i love it,” you say, and his eyes snap to yours.

relief hits him like a wave. his shoulders drop, mouth opening a little like he wants to say something and doesn’t know how to word it. instead, he leans back toward the rear seat, awkwardly reaching around, bumping his elbow in the process.

“wait, i forgot— i have one more thing.”

you watch as he pulls out a crumpled paper bag, opens it slowly, and reveals a small, slightly uneven bouquet. wildflowers again, some of them a bit messy from the day, others still bright and clashing in the best way.

“i made this. well, my hyungs helped,” he says, shyly. “we were guessing what you’d like. i picked the little ones. sungho hyung said the purple ones looked good. i dunno what any of them are called, but i liked how they looked together.”

you stare at the bouquet, something warm blooming in your chest.

“woonhak.”

he fidgets. “you don’t have to keep them or anything. i just thought… i don’t know. maybe they’d remind you of today.”

you hold them carefully, as if they might fall apart if you grip too hard. “you are— actually insane.”

his eyes go wide. “what? why?”

“insanely cute,” you say.

he opens his mouth to protest, but it fades into a sheepish smile. “oh. okay. that one’s allowed.”

you lean over, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. he freezes, then relaxes, letting your closeness settle.

no big declarations. no dramatic kiss in the dark. just his hand still holding yours, your fingers tracing the edge of the bouquet like you’re memorizing it.

after a while, you unbuckle your seatbelt, open the door. “walk me to the porch?”

“sure,” he says, voice small but appreciative.

you step out, flowers in hand. he walks beside you all the way to the steps, then stops.

you wave. “thanks for today.”

“you liked it?” he asks, not hiding the hope in his voice.

“i’ll remember it forever,” you say. and you mean it.

you step inside. woonhak waits by the curb, watching until the porch light clicks off. only then does he get back in the car, gripping the wheel with both hands, exhaling a long, quiet breath.

his phone buzzes in the cupholder. he taps it open. it’s that photo, the one he took earlier, sun catching your face, your expression half-squinting, half-glowing.

except now, it's in your shared album titled, "wildflower date ⛄🌼". he smiles at it for a long time.

and of course, you do too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru @tanghuyuj

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

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harryslittlefreakk · 2 years ago

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can’t get you off my mind

(late night talking part 2)

Summary: your first night at LOT leads to a new depth to yours and harry’s… friendship

Warnings: smut, 18+!!!

A/n: i love this one. that’s all. this is all based off a very fun dream i had

hi guys!! thank you so much for all the love on this so far. if there’s anything you’d like to see, anything for me to add, anything at all you’d like in the upcoming parts then please let me know 🫶🏼xx

part one

my masterlist can be found here!

Harry spent the entire day thinking about you. He’d dropped you at your hotel that morning, slightly against his will. He woke before you, and couldn’t believe how adorable you looked sleeping. Your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in the night, your cheeks rosy from the morning heat and your rosebud lips puffing out with every breath.

He had places to be and you needed to shower, but once he saw the building you were staying in he decided you’d never go back there. It looked a state. The yellowing brickwork was falling apart, some windows were boarded up and the front door was wedged open for anyone to get in at any time. He made a mental note of your room number before he drove off.

You’d exchanged numbers as you left, but Harry hadn’t heard from you since then. Although he was busy with work at the venue, outfit fittings and some sneaky self-care, he was starting to panic that he wouldn’t speak to you again. So when he’d finally had enough of waiting by the phone like a teenager, he snapped a picture of himself with a sheet mask on. He sent it to you, then followed with a message.

harry: making myself pretty for you :)

He saw you were typing almost immediately, and his heart nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a picture from you flash up. You were wearing a tiny baby tee, and if he looked hard enough (which he absolutely did) he could make out the outline of your nipples under the shirt. You were surrounded by makeup, your hair already styled in perfect waves.

y/n: you’re pretty enough as you are. working hard on myself too 😋

Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he read and reread your message. Tapping his fingers on the side of his phone, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how you’d just been dropped right under his nose. He always shied away from women who were fans of his work, knowing it can get more complicated that way. But something was different about you, there was a reason he’d bumped into you last night, he was sure of it.

—

With soundcheck finished, all Harry had to do now was get ready. He wondered if you were outside already, where you’d be inside, what you’d be wearing. You hadn’t caved and given him any details, so the possibilities had been running through his mind all day. He paced his dressing room, stretching out his strong arms. Every show was important, every show needed to go right. His first night at Wembley needed to be a good one. He just hoped he’d spot you, know you were there so he didn’t have to keep looking for you. Sighing, he decided to send you one final text before shutting his phone off and getting in the zone.

harry: meet me at my hotel after the show? won’t be there until later but can give your name to the front desk :) x

y/n: only if i’m not intruding !!! good luck tonight, break a leg 🦵 x

Meanwhile, you were in the queue outside the stadium with your best friend, Joanie. You were both wearing denim halter playsuits, her with a blue feather boa and yours white. You’d met each other at school where you bonded over One Direction, so you wished to be able to tell her about your night with Harry. But you knew whatever friendship was blossoming between you two could only continue in private, at least for now, and you knew she’d understand when you eventually told her. She was watching you as you stood there, jittering and anxiously checking your phone. “What’s up with you?,” she asked, her face scrunched up. “Oh. Nothi- I’m just anxious to get inside,” you lied through your teeth, hoping she wouldn’t ask any further. You knew the last thing on Harry’s mind right now would be texting you, yet you still waited for another message. You had your phone brightness turned all the way down so no one could see, and clicked on your text chain with Harry every few minutes. You couldn’t stop looking at his selfie, his glistening green eyes against the white of the mask, the relaxed look on his face. He was shirtless, the heads of his inked swallows just creeping into frame. You hadn’t even clocked he’d slept shirtless last night. The things you’d do if presented with that again ..

The queue began to move inside, and every wall you looked at showed you pictures of Harry’s face. It felt totally insane that the same man you’d joked around with like old friends was the one you’d be screaming to shortly. Part of you wanted to dial down your enjoyment, make him think you’re just a casual fan so he felt more comfortable around you- but you knew the second he came on stage that would be out the window.

You found a perfect spot a few rows back from the front of the walkway, knowing Joanie wanted to see ‘little freak’ and ‘matilda’ up close. It wasn’t long until you heard the opening chords of ‘daydreaming’ and watched Harry burst onto the stage. The atmosphere was electric, and he looked divine in his red and white patterned jumpsuit. You and Joanie were screaming and jumping like children at a school disco, in pure disbelief of the love and wholesome vibes around you.

When Harry appeared just in front of you, you felt a buzzing in your chest. You’d seen his eyes scanning the crowds, as if he was looking for someone, and you really hoped he was looking for you. As soon as you thought about it, his eyes landed upon yours. He sucked in a long breath, losing his train of thought mid-ramble. Harry thought you were beautiful last night but you looked almost heavenly tonight. Your playsuit hugged your curves perfectly, the half-up zipper showing an inviting amount of cleavage. He could see all the tattoos dotted up and down your arms, and the way you were grinning at your friend made his heart melt a little. You had an air of innocence about you, which he loved. Suddenly, your friend was looking at him awestruck and nudging you to see. You half-waved, sending him a subtle wink so as not to alert Joanie to anything weird. Harry managed to carry on with what he was saying, but his eyes barely left you the entire time he was there.

By the time he got around to ‘late night talking’, Harry literally couldn’t get you off his mind. In a sea full of people, it’s like there was a spotlight on you. The way you were dancing, your hair flying around you, he was mesmerised. The rest of the show continued in a blur, with Harry barely in control of his own actions. Going through the motions until he could see you later on. Grinding against the microphone, acting out the dirtier parts of every song. You riled him up in the perfect way.

“I need a little help from you all,” he spoke into the microphone, one hand scanning the crowd. “It’s a little hot today, and I think we need to cool down.” His face remained serious, though the crowd laughed after his antics all night. He was positively feral. Rolling his shoulders back, Harry grabbed the microphone as the first lines of ‘kiwi’ tumbled out his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to be back in front of you, already drenched from the splashes of water he’d requested. He was standing there with a devilish smirk plastered on his face, full water bottle in hand.

She sits beside me like a silhouette

His hand traced the curves of his own body, eyes locked onto yours once again. The words you were screaming were no more than tiny squeaks now, heart caught in your throat as you watched Harry gyrating in front of you.

Hard candy drippin' on me 'til my feet are wet

He raked a hand down the front of his body, pulling away just before he reached his goods. Something in his eyes said he wanted to touch himself right here, right now.

And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it

It's like I paid for it

He pointed towards you now, apparently totally incapable of anything except showing the world that he wanted to fuck you. Heat was swirling round your insides, this song did enough for you without Harry singing it for you.

I'm gonna pay for this

Just as the burning in your core got too much to bear, Harry unscrewed his water bottle and threw the contents right at you. You shrieked as the water hit you, drenching Joanie and the other girls around you. Harry returned your wink, the green of his eyes barely visible around his blown pupils, and moved on as if nothing happened.

“Oh my God!” Joanie screamed, jumping up and down at your side. “He was looking right at you!!”

You were so flustered, you couldn’t even find words to respond. You were almost nervous for the show to finish, hoping Harry still had this energy later.

—

Opening the door to your hotel room, you looked around with your jaw dropped. Everything was gone, all your makeup and clothes vanished from the piles around the room. All that was left was some gym shorts, a black t shirt and the pair of sneakers you wore last night. You turned on your heel, furious that someone had been fiddling with your stuff while you were away. It was only then that you saw the note pinned to the back of the door.

Y/N, this hotel sucks. Got you a room in mine. See you soon , H x

You couldn’t believe what you were reading. That cheeky little bastard didn’t even pre warn you that he’d cleared out your hotel room. You were desperate for a cold shower after the heat of the concert. Instead, you got changed quickly and scrubbed your makeup off, hoping that would make you feel a little fresher. Harry hadn’t even left you clean panties to change into.

—

Barging into his hotel room with the note still in your hand, you were half surprised to even see Harry standing there. You assumed he’d still be a while, but then, he didn’t have to battle through the crowds to leave the stadium. “There you are,” he grinned, so much more relaxed than you’d seen him a few hours ago. You flapped the note in the air, unable to even find words to question him. “Hey,” he started, stalking towards you slowly. “You can’t stay there alone, I don’t trust that place one bit. I put all your stuff in your room- it’s just one floor down from here.” You calmed down slightly at that, not even sure why you were so worked up to begin with. He was right, your hotel was the lowest of the low. “Thank you,�� you mumbled, looking up at him. Harry was standing right in front of you now, wearing only a thin t shirt and the gym shorts from yesterday. He looked exhausted, but totally wired.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered, barely audible above the hum of the music he had playing. “Are you kidding?!” You replied, eyes lighting up as a grin stretched across your face. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” you laughed, poking a finger into Harry’s muscular chest. He grabbed your hand when you didn’t move it away, looking into your eyes with parted lips. His own eyes were darkened, his pupils blown with a look you couldn’t quite place. They dragged up and down from your eyes to your mouth, and just being subject to his gaze lit a fire in your core. He was animalistic. Harry traced along your jaw with his free hand, tentatively as if waiting to be stopped. Only, you didn’t stop him. You weren’t sure you could speak, even if you wanted to.

He let go of your wrist and ran both of his hands through his damp hair, before wiping down his face with his right hand. Harry took a step closer, his big frame overshadowing you as you stepped back until your hips hit the kitchen counter. Please, please let this go as far as I want it to, you silently prayed, wishing Harry could read your mind right now. He was still looking down at you, his firm chest rising and falling quickly. You placed a gentle hand against his pec, checking his eyes for any sign as to his next move. Harry merely cocked his head in response, as if trying to figure you out too. “Harry, please,” you moaned softly, hoping this would be all the permission he needed to have his wicked way with you.

Almost instantly, his hands were under your thighs, scooping you up and placing you on the countertop. He tilted your chin up and looked over your face one more time before his lips smashed into yours, starting a battle of tongues, teeth and lips. You wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder, allowing his tongue further into your mouth. Harry’s teeth tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours. You were panting, half from the lack of air but mostly from the heat in your belly. You mentally scolded him for not leaving you clean panties as they were double soaked now. You wrapped your ankles around his hips, pulling him closer into you until your cores connected. His thick shaft poked your inner thigh, leaving you moaning and crumbling in front of him. “You had me going crazy all night,” Harry moaned against your mouth, pushing his hands up and under your t-shirt. He kneaded your soft breasts as if they were warm dough, pinching your nipple as his lips moved down to your neck. His name tumbled out of your mouth over and over again, Harry, Harry, Harry, ringing around your head as he got to work on your body.

He stepped back, tilting your head up again to look him in the eyes as his fingers wrapped around the waistband of your shorts and panties. You gave him a small nod, knowing he’d take that as your consent to do whatever he fancied with you. Harry whipped them off in one go, his cock twitching at the sight of you. Your lips were swollen and pink, pupils blown with lust. He could see the wetness glistening between your folds, looking beyond inviting. His fingers trailed up your thigh, circling your button before slipping between your folds. Your head fell to his shoulder as he pushed in and out of you, stroking at your sweet spot. Your walls were tightening around his knuckles already, so much pent up pleasure pushing you close to your climax already.

“So close already, sweet girl?” Harry drawled, peppering kisses down your throat. You could only moan in response, feeling a ball of heat deep in your core. He slipped another finger in, rubbing on your button with his thumb, desperate to coax you to your high. “Right there Harry, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you panted, screwing up your eyes as he bought you closer. “Look at me, Y/N, look in my eyes as you come,” Harry warned, his tone stern yet breathy. The minute you looked up at him, your orgasm flooded over you. Your thighs were shaking as you called out his name through pants, a hand gripping the back of his thick curls.

He kept his fingers moving inside you, slower now as you came down from your high, before rubbing a hand along your waist. “You needed that, huh? Did so good for me baby,” he spoke softly, pressing kisses into your jawline. “I’m gonna take you to the bed now, okay?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face. You simply nodded, unable to speak after such a fast and heavy orgasm.

Harry slipped off his shirt before sliding an arm under you and gripping you tight, carrying you over to the giant bed. He laid you down gently in the centre of the bed, kicking off his shorts and boxers. Your eyes were drawn to his groin as he gave himself a quick stroke, his erection bouncing up to smack the centre of his laurels. He was big. Bigger than he felt pressed against you, maybe bigger than you’d ever seen. “Fuck,” he groaned, looking down at you with his lips rolled into his mouth. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m clean, Harry. And I’m on birth control,” you offered. Harry grinned. He wouldn’t normally go raw, he knew the risks all too well. But man, did he want to. He could already feel the way your walls would stretch around him, the sheer pleasure of splitting you in two with no barrier in the way. It was risky, but he’d already taken enough risks with you. One more wouldn’t hurt.

He climbed on top of you, resting one hand to the left of your shoulder. Guiding his cock to your folds, he moaned at the slightest touch. You’d had him hard for so long now, Harry knew he wouldn’t last long when he finally got inside you. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips as he pushed his head inside of you. He took the first few inches slow, reeling from how tight you were around him. “Let me know if it’s too much, okay pet?” He looked deep into your eyes as you nodded, throwing an arm around his neck. “More, please Harry,” you whimpered, using one foot to nudge the back of his thigh. “You wanna take it all, princess? Gonna get fucked so good by daddy’s cock?”

You moaned louder at his words, pure filth tumbling out of his dirty, dirty mouth. Harry bottomed out inside you, throwing his head back in relief. He had every intention of starting off slow and careful, but after pulling out, his first thrust was already hard and sloppy. He needed you too badly to waste time warming you up. “You feel so good baby, never had someone so tight around me.” He rocked into you quickly, his free hand gripping onto yours. You had no idea sex could ever feel as good as it did right now. His cock was filling every inch of you, forcing satisfaction into places you’d never felt before. “Harry, fuck-“ you whined, “I’m close.”

“Come for me, I want you to come baby.” His groin was rubbing against your clit, your pleasure threatening to spill out of you again. You looked up at him, just as he’d requested before, and stretched your neck to press sloppy kisses along his collarbone. Your body started to tense up again, you could feel your walls clenching around his shaft. You writhed under him, this orgasm more intense than you’d ever had. “Fuck baby, fuck. Where do you want me to come?” He stuttered, throwing everything left in his body into thrusting in and out of you as you came down from your high. “Inside me, please, fuck Harry.” You panted, clawing into the back of his neck. He wasted no time in painting your walls with his come, his thrusts becoming sloppy and half-arsed as he cried out your name.

—

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. I wasn’t expecting it or anything,” you spoke softly, moving your head to look up at Harry. He only wrapped his arm around you tighter, pressing a kiss into the top of your head. “I know. I wanted to.” He replied, pulling the duvet on top of you both with his free hand. “Seemed like you wanted it too,” he smirked, nestling his chin into your hair. You slapped his chest playfully, eyes heavy after your long night. You both fell asleep like that, tangled up in each other, wearing nothing but a pair of pants each.

part three

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry x fan #harry fic #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles x fan #harry smut #harry styles #harry styles smut

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ziasecretlab · 3 years ago

Text

happy at last

levi ackerman x yeager! reader

🪶being the older sister of eren yeager, you made sure that you kept you relationship with a certain captain a secret…. until eren finds out.

- warning: fluff, slight angst, frantic eren, mushy levi. this is really cute that’s all.

(this was not fully proof read because i was tired so if there is anything funny, i’m really sorry!)

“hange, for the last time, i can’t give you medication to test use on titans,” you playfully roll your eyes to the woman and softly punched her side. “i’m so close to a breakthrough! just a little bit. i won’t tell, levi!” hange begged, following you around the medic room like a lost puppy.

“fi-” as soon as you wanted to cave in to the woman, two people walked in, stepping right behind you. “oi, shitty glasses. step pestering y/n for medicine,” levi wedged in between the two of you, flashing his famous glare. erwin opted to stand right behind you instead.

“don’t all three of you need to welcome the new cadets?” you budged in so as to stop levi’s intense glare towards hange.

“yeah but we were thinking of bringing you along. you are part of our team,” erwin spoke. you snorted, adjusting your doctor coat and taking off the gloves you had on. “you guys run the survey corps. i’m just a doctor,”

“a good one at that,” hange flashed a smile, trying to coax you into giving some medicine or substances to test on titans. this immediately earned them a slap on the back of their head by levi.

erwin once again, being peacemaker, pulled hange away from levi and out the infirmary. now it was just you and levi. “i heard your brother’s one of the new cadets,” this got your attention.

after titans demolished the whole of shigansina and.. ate your mom, eren had devoted his life to taking down titans. you were definitely against it at first, not wanting to lose another family member. but he talked you into giving in.

since mikasa and armin were joining to, at least he had someone to shoulder him.

“i’m terrified of what the survey corps will make of him,” you huff, turning to face levi. he moved in closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in more. “we’ll make a good soldier out of him, that’s for sure,” you nodded, worry dissipated but still lingering.

you arms were now around his neck and head on his shoulder. it felt nice being around him and being the only person who has ever seen the softer side of him.

levi and you have been together a total of 3 years. in that time, only your parents had known about you relationship with the captain. you made sure eren never found out because he would most definitely break down. as for mikasa, she find out everything somehow.

“my brother’s going to freak when he realises his sibling is dating his captain,” this earned a small chuckle from levi and a peck on your lips. a small peck turned into a small makeout session. “we should get going. can’t keep those cadets waiting,” you pulled away, hands to his jacket and pulling it to make him look proper.

“i love you, y/n,” a small swell of happiness burst in your heart. you will never get enough of hearing him tell you how much he loves you.

“i love you too, levi,”

——

you were standing off to the side, looking at the new cadets who were currently being briefed by the commander. hange was with you while levi was up there with erwin.

“it’s crazy that one day they’ll be taking over us,” you whispered over to hange who were scanning all of them. “they all look so tiny,” you looked over to erwin who was beckoning hange to come up.

“cadets, this will be one of squad leader in the survey corps, hange zoë,” hange had one of the most liveliest introductions. a lot of hand waving, smiles. it was to cheer most of them up.

“last but not least, doctor y/n yeager,” that was your queue to come up. it was fantastic finally see the new cadets up close.

before you could open your mouth, a curious cadets who didn’t mean to shout her thoughts out interrupted you. “are you eren’s sister!” a small brunette girl who immediately clamped her hand on her mouth.

this made you chuckle. it seems your little brother has been getting quite a lot of attention during his time in the training corps.

“yes, i am! i didn’t think it would be that obvious. considering i’m the prettier sibling,” you joked and it got the reaction you wanted to see out of worried kids.

you saw your brother in the crowd casting you an embarrassed stare, hiding his face. you gave him a small nod and he returned a smile. it was good to see eren again.

“but i’m not just eren’s big sister. i’ll be the one patching most of you lots up after every exhibition. so be ready to see this face around,” after a brief and small introduction, you stepped back down so that erwin could debrief them.

levi was with you, pinkie’s intertwined but out of sight from the cadets. “you seem nervous,” levi whispered and you turn slightly. “i’m scared for eren. i don’t know if he’s up for this,”

levi knew how much you loved your brother and how his friends were like your siblings too. it was already hard loosing both your parents that you wanted to protect eren as much as you could.

“don’t worry, love. if it makes you any better, he’ll be with me,” you let out a small giggle that had attracted some attention. erwin lifted his eyebrow and smiled. “something funny, doctor?” erwin teased like a dad sometimes. your face heated up and you shook your head. “n-nothing, commander!” you hid your head and felt levi shake.

you turn to see him trying to hide a chuckle. “are you kidding me? i’m suffering and you’re laughing?” levi put on his stoic face again. “you’re too cute,” a smile slipped on your face once again and you turn to face the cadets.

only to find your brother staring at you. he was trying to piece together whatever is happening. you motioned him to pay attention to the commander in front of him.

“it seems your brother might be much smarter than i thought,” levi teased, unlinking your pinkie’s and walking off. you can’t believe he left you here to deal with the problem which is your brother finding out.

“are you kidding me?” you muttered to yourself, walking towards your brother and his group of friends.

“y/n! it’s good to see you again!” armin went in for a hug and mikasa opted for a head pat. eren looked as if he was trying to piece together things.

“it’s good to see you all of you too. looks like commander shadis made something out of you three,”

a few other new cadets had walked over to you. one being the girl who asked you if you were related to eren.

“this jean, connie and sasha!” armin happily introduced you to them. jean and connie seemed to be awestruck from the expression on their faces. “eren do you need a brother in law?” the jean kid implied which earned his a jab by mikasa.

“she’s taken, idiot,” mikasa lowly said to jean.

“you’re taken?! by who? why wasn’t i informed? who’s the guy? how does mikasa know and i don’t?!” eren burst out in question which was quite uncharacteristic of him. you nervously laughed trying to get out of the situation but instead you bumped into a wall.

a wall that has its arms wrapped around yours.

“training starts soon, brats. you should stop wasting time chit chatting,” you swore you saw eren’s eyes twitch as his eyes trailed to levi’s arms. his mouth hung open.

“c’mon, eren. please,” armin coaxed the boy into following him. “we will have a chat about this,” was all eren said before walking off.

“that’s was.. something,” you turn to see levi smirking. instinctively, you start smacking and punching his chest until he let go. a smile reached his usually monotonous face.

“this is serious! eren’s probably in full freakout mode. and it doesn’t help that you’re his captain!” you felt levi pull you around a wall where you were away from the others.

levi pulled you into a hug while you pouted. his soft lips reached your forehead and you leaned in more.

“everything’s gonna be fine. eren will come around just like your parents,” you meekly nodded and sighed. you wished everyday was like this. you and levi.

but titans just had to put themselves in between everything.

“you should get back to the medic room before hange steals things again,” your head shot up. that’s why some of your items were going missing and popping up and random times.

“i love you, levi,”

“i love you too,” you walked away first but not before levi could sneak in another kiss.

back to your everyday routine.

——

“i heard your brother found out,” erwin sipped his tea and you smacked your hand over your face. now all four of you were hanging out in erwin’s office to discuss the next exhibition. you were there because levi wanted you to be there.

“yeah. and small guy over here was making fun of me rather than helping me,” you flick you finger on levi’s forehead.

erwin loved how the two of you interacted. he was happy someone could make his friend just as happy and less… stoic.

“well i may or may have not asked him to come by,” and just your luck, there were three knocks on the door. oh dear god, things were going to be interesting.

“commander, you asked to see me,” eren had brought mikasa and armin along. you watched as they saluted erwin. “yes. sit,” there was a strange tension in the room, eren not wanting to make any sort of contact with you. mikasa and armin just smiled at you.

“now we have the two siblings together, we can start the conversation,” erwin settled by his office chair.

“eren-”

“when, how and why him?!” eren rambled whatever was on the top of his mind. “eren!” mikasa tried to stop him from talking but you stepped in.

“3 years ago,” you answered him. he quickly shut up.

“3 whole years? did mom and dad know?” you nodded and his question. eren expression were changing ever so quickly. he was in shock after all.

“but why the captain,” he muttered leaning into the chair. you somewhat understood why he was acting this way. though part of you felt it was selfish but this was his way of showing he cared for you.

and that you were grateful.

“aren’t you happy that i’m happy though?” that question seemed to take eren off guard. he took a big gulp and groaned.

truth is before you met levi, you were miserable. albeit having a wonderful family, life working for the survey corps as a doctor took a toll on you.

seeing all the dead bodies, soldiers screaming and crying in pain. it was depressing for you. your parents saw the pain you were going through when you started pushing them away.

eren didn’t understand why you were so upset.

in all that mist and pain, was when levi walked in. it started off with him coming in to get himself patched up. then he was coming in for injuries like burning his hand on the stove or stubbing his toe. slowly, you understood his intentions and reciprocated it.

when you told your parents about levi, they had mixed feeling about it. he was the captain of the survey corps. going out of the walls was part of his job. they were afraid one day he was going to get himself killed and you would have to face a whole new cycle.

but once they met him, they saw how capable he was. how much of an excellent soldier he was and decided to open up.

everyone saw the change in you. eren the most. he was happy to see his big sister smiling again.

eren didn’t know that the cause of your happiness was levi. it was only now he managed to piece the puzzle together.

“i’m happy to see you smiling again. you could’ve told me you were seeing him though,” eren mumbled the last part but you caught onto it. you walked over to where he sat and pat his head.

“i know. that was on me,”

eren huffed and looked at levi dead in the eye. it was brave of him to look at his captain that way. you knew however, that this wasn’t eren talking to his captain. this is eren talking to levi as your brother. your only family left.

“do.. do you love my sister?”

levi looked at you, adoration in his eyes.

“i love y/n with my life,”

it was nice to see eren opening up to the idea. slowly but surely. eren nodded at his answer and over to mikasa and armin. they both had a say too since you used to take care of them as if they were family.

“if you hurt my sister in any way, i will feed you to the titans,” the threat didn’t hold well since levi can easily fend the titans off by himself. you gave him a look to tell him to just play along. levi nodded at the threat eren gave.

“i would never hurt her,”

“good. good,” eren seemed a little shaken up. the adrenaline had probably reached him already. “and if you ever want to marry her, you have to come to me,” eren stepped in like the protective brother he is.

“what if i already asked your parents?” this caught your attention immediately. eren had the same wide eyes look on his face. “i’m kidding. but i’ll keep it mind,” levi looked stoic the whole conversation, not moving any of his cheeks muscles.

“alright. i got the answers i need,” eren stood up looking at the commander. he saluted and walked right out, leaving mikasa and armin to follow right after.

“goodnight everyone!” armin sweetly wished and chased right after eren.

hange let out a small heave. you had totally forgotten that both erwin and hange were there.

“was it necessary for the both of you to be present the whole conversation?” you genuinely asked, waving your finger between the two of them.

“most definitely. i’m your commander,” erwin simply replied with a soft smile on his face. “i just wanted to hear some gossip,” hange truthfully answered. you rolled your eyes at her.

levi abruptly stood up and took his paper work. “i’m tired. goodbye,” he took your hand and dragged you both out of erwin’s officer and right into his. as soon as both of you were behind the doors, his hands were around your waist.

“are you tired?” levi asked, running his hand in your hair. you nodded softly. his paperwork were discarded on his table and he effortlessly swooped you off your feet and into his bed.

“thank you for today. eren and all,” you played with his hair and placed your warm hand on his cheek right after. he shook his head. “i’m glad he’s accepting of us,” you nodded snuggling into his chest.

you loved your life no matter how traumatic it could get. levi by your side and eren knowing about your relationship with him.

“hey, y/n?”

“yeah?” a small pause filled the air before levi continued.

“i wanna marry you,”

tags:

#attack on titan #aot fanfiction #levi aot #levi ackerman aot #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #snk x reader #snk levi #snk fandom #aot x y/n #snk x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #levi x you #levi imagines #levi ackerman imagine

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chaos0pikachu · 3 years ago

Note

thanks for standing up for Kinn, at first I thought people were just mad, like at the moment, first impressions and something along those lines, but then would be mature enough to understand different povs and reasons. but no, every saturday it's the same

I keep mentioning the Klaine Civil War and it's b/c I'm used to defending the easier to blame character lol I used be a Blaine fan back in my teen years and Kurt fans would always go so hard on him to the point of just....purposely misreading his character. It drove a huge wedge in the collective sub-fandom of Klaine shippers and just became kinda toxic and not fun to engage with.

Frankly, Kinnporsche is a more consistent show than glee was the end of it's run. Kinn and Porsche are also more consistent characters than Kurt and Blaine were by the end as well. So like, I'm hoping fandom just kinda....takes some time and chills and then when the show is over rewatches it and come to realize the show is actually pretty nuanced. Thematically the show keeps pushing the idea of "balance" and that's included in the conflicts between Porsche and Kinn.

Like, mi chepies, Kinn is not a bad dude lol he's just in really specific and not great circumstances. He's not purposely trying to hurt Porsche, just like Porsche isn't purposely trying to hurt him (with constantly trusting Vegas like dude, you know this guy has interest in you that's not platonic).

Both Kinn and Porsche are well developed individual characters - which imo is all to rare in Thai BL and romance genre in general imo where the pursuer character is usually bland as fuck b/c their only motivation and/or goal is just to be with/get with the object of their affection, see a lot of Sandra Bollocks romcoms and some BLs I shall not name lol - which makes their relationship more interesting to me.

Because, again, neither is "right" or "wrong" and their conflicts usually stem from environmental sources - I'm not in the mafia but it seems kinda dangerous and mentally damaging y'all! Also Korn, just Korn - or interpersonal issues they individually or collectively have to overcome - yay trauma! - instead of like, the melodrama of Tawan kissing Kinn and Porsche conveniently walks in, runs away, heartbroken and sobbing and oh no! Dun! Dun! Duuuuun! Ep12 queues up the quick resolution**

So yeah, I think fandom will come around, or maybe not, idk but I'll sit here with my Kinn Defender Hat b/c I like Kinn as a character and I get why he's harder for the audience to emphasize with b/c his circumstances are so hyper-specific

I'm still enjoying the fuck outta the show and am struggling with the fact it's gonna end in 5 episodes, we need another season and a movie tbh someone @be on cloud rn

**sidenote this is a staple in the romance genre in general, not just in BL it just usually happens in the last 30mins of the movie instead

#kinnporsche the series

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huntergatherercreator · 5 years ago

Text

Take Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut, mention of cheating and alcohol abuse, break-up angst

Note: Have I really just written something not mob!tom related? I’m as shocked as you are. This is my first time posting something that contains sexual content on this level, it’s kinda nerve wracking so any feedback would be appreciated! Also, let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should have added.

-------

2,032 words

The bar wasn’t your usual scene. You preferred local, intimate places not clubs like this. Despite being underground the mirrored ceiling made it feel twice as open. You looked out over the dance floor from the mezzanine at the entrance door searching for your friends. Rhythmic lighting spilled over the space. It was almost filled to capacity with bodies dancing to bass so loud it reverberated through the soles of your new shoes.

An exaggerated wave from the middle of the bar caught your attention and you smiled as your friend signalled you over. Gripping the handrail of the metal steps you took a breath before descending. You still weren’t completely comfortable with the outfit you’d been talked into wearing but judging by the looks you were getting as you cut across the floor it wasn’t as bad as you’d initially feared.

“Damn, Y/N! You look incredible!” Your friend gushed pulling you in beside her at the bar. Signalling to the bartender she had them pour out two shots. Turning to you with a devilish grin she offered you a lime wedge.

“No way. I just got here,” you refused. As much as you enjoyed drinking the past three months had been filled with nights spent at the bottom of a bottle. You were slowly getting back control. Reigning yourself in after the worst breakup you’d ever experienced but it was a slow process.

A lot of your recovery had to do with the guy you’d met a few weeks ago. Tonight was the first night he’d meet your best friend, the one whose opinion could make or break the possible relationship.

With a sulky pout she downed her own. “So, when will this mystery man of yours get here?”

“He should be here soon.” Your friend leaned her back against the bar, eyes scanning the room.

“Hmm...is it him?” she mused pointing to a guy with too much hair product. “No,” she shook her head, “it’s got to be him.” You followed her finger and snorted a laugh as you watched a guy dancing awkwardly in the corner.

“Stop it. You’ll know him when you see him,” you promised. Turning back to the bar to order a beer you heard her gasp even over the loud music. In the mirrors lining the glass shelves you could see him approaching and couldn’t stop a smile. Your friend not so subtly nudged you.

“Is this real? Is he coming over? My god, he’s gorgeous” she babbled. You took a long sip of your beer and decided to let her work it out on her own.

“He looks like he works out so much. Those jeans, that t-shirt...” You could practically hear her drooling before she quickly spun to face you. “Shit, he’s actually coming over, what do we..”

“Hey, Y/N.” Settling your beer on a napkin you watched your friends eyes widen, mouth agape. With a laugh you finally faced him. His smile faltered as he took you in, a faint blush creeping up his face.

“You look amazing.” Leaning into you his hand rested on your hip as he kissed your cheek.

Just as your friend had said, Adam was gorgeous. Standing a good foot above you with tousled blonde hair and classic baby blues he wasn’t your normal type, which is exactly why you’d gone for him. After the last failed relationship it was clear what you were attracted to and what you needed were two different things. Adam was your clean slate. Your fresh start.

It was different with him. There hadn’t been an instant attraction but the more you got to know him the more relaxed you felt. Sure there was still no flutter when he kissed you, no spark, but given enough time you were sure that would grow.

You introduced your friend who was still having a hard time closing her mouth all the way, then using Adam’s height to your advantage you got him to find a free table at the edge of the room. Sliding into the booth between them you settled in for the interrogation. He didn’t seem phased. He linked his warm fingers with yours and answered as honestly as possible. Watching him you couldn’t help but smile as he devoutly tried to stop his gaze from wandering to the low cut of your dress and the way his cheek flushed when he failed.

Beer finished you excused yourself to grab a new round for the table. The queue at the bar was steadily getting busier as the night went on. You tried to work your way further down to a quieter spot, keeping your head down and gently elbowing your way through the groups. A gap opened up and you rushed to move into the space only to collide with someone. Your foot slipped on a spilled drink and a strong hand caught your waist to steady you. Cheeks heating from embarrassment you internally cursed your shoes. Gathering some courage you glanced up to thank your saviour and the words died in your throat.

Soft chestnut eyes stared down at you intently. You’re heart hammered under their gaze, sweat starting to make your hands clammy. You’d thought you’d never see him again. You’d hoped you wouldn’t. But here he was, looking immaculate in an all black suit and even better than you remembered. The heat of his hand against your waist seemed to sear through your dress and you tried to step back out of his reach but he only pulled you closer.

“Y/N.” The room seemed to still, the music dimming. All you could hear was his voice. The rough edge it held when he said your name had your body reacting as if the last few months hadn’t happened. You clenched your fists hating how with one word he could get under your skin again after all this time.

“Let me go.” You barely managed to whisper out the words but you knew he’d heard. He downed what was left in his glass and brushed against you as he placed it on the bar. The scent of him wrapped around you triggering memories that you’d tried to suppress.

Leaning in his lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “We need to talk.” Irritation flared. Who did he think he was? It had been months and now he wanted to talk? Steeling yourself you shoved his hand away.

“I have nothing to say to you, Tom.”

“Then listen.” You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and the intensity radiating from them dried up your protest.

“The guy you’re with is no good.” You jerked back away from him and he had the gall to look surprised.

Anger snaking through you, you felt your lip curl. “He’s none of your business. I’m none of your business.” Elbowing past him you fought the crowd blindly. You had to get away from him.

Reaching the back wall you slipped into a side hallway marked private. The music dimmed to a muted thump and you let out a ragged breath. As your adrenaline started to dip you started shaking. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to calm down.

“Y/N.” You cursed as you sensed him approach but refused to turn. Seeing him, seeing how little he’d changed and knowing how readily you still reacted to him was too much.

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be with him.” He’d stopped behind you, his breath ruffling your hair as he spoke.

You couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You’re just saying that because you can’t stand to see me with someone else.” The beat of silence that followed had a chill creeping over your skin. Don’t look at him, don’t do it. Your fingers tightened into fists as you fought against yourself. God you wanted to turn around. You wanted to run your fingers through his soft curls, you wanted to breathe in the indescribable scent that was Tom as he held you and...

Hands skimming over your waist he closed the gap. His chest against your back you shivered at the warmth he radiated. You held back a soft moan as his lips ghosted over your throat.

“He’s not right for you,” he breathed. Your mind conjured an image of Adam and the realisation of what you were doing doused you like ice water. You spun out of Tom’s grip, palm pressed against the wall to steady yourself.

“You walked away from me, remember?” Your voice shook with effort as you tried to fight back tears. Tom grimaced, eyes lowering. Your heart ached at his expression but anger chased it off. “You don’t get to act the martyr, Tom, and you certainly don’t get to have a say in my love life.”

Gaze flashing up to you his shoulders set, jaw working for a long second before he spoke.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” you snapped.

“Do you love him?” Taken aback your mouth fell open. When you didn’t answer he took a step forward. He searched your face, gaze dipping to your lips hungrily. Your stomach dipped traitorously as heat pooled through you.

“Tom,” you warned, voice barely a whisper. He was too far gone to listen.

Hands cupping your face his lips brushed against yours, feather light and testing your reaction. Your body lit up at his touch. Nerve endings that had been dormant firing to life. Despite everything your body craved his touch, needed him on a deeper level than you understood.

Fingers drifting to caressed your neck, he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped at the cold, arching against Tom’s chest to escape it and he mistook your movements as encouragement. Gripping your hip to pull you even closer he deepened the kiss. You could feel his excitement as he pressed against you and it broke your last reserve of control.

Lips parting you relinquished to him. Tongue flicking out to claim your mouth the familiar taste of sweet whisky brushed over your taste buds. His fingers drifted from your neck. Following the low V of your dress he traced the channel between your breasts before slipping them under the fabric. He let out a low groan as he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip his fingers massaged you, thumb circling your nipple drawing out whimpers.

Your hands wound into his hair, tugging at the curls. Lifting a leg to wrap around his waist you gasped as he rutted his hips against you. The soft fabric covering his erection brushed against you teasingly. Hiking your other leg around his waist he held you firmly against the wall, fingers digging into your ass. He dipped his head to kiss your neck, biting and suckling at the sensitive spot above your collar bone until you could barely think. Your underwear was ruined.

Slipping a hand between your bodies you traced the outline of his bulge slowly, intent on dragging it out like you’d imagined on long nights without him. When he bucked against your hand with a needy moan you knew you’d never be able to keep it up.

“Y/N?” The distant voice broke you from your trance. You tried to break away from Tom but he held you tight.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go back to him.” The ragged edge to his voice had you shivering.

“Tom,” you pleaded, heart breaking all over again as he watched you with tormented eyes.

“I made a mistake. I should never have let you go.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me you’ll take me back,” he begged.

The sound of Adam calling for you started to grow louder but here in Tom’s arms the guilt and regret you should be feeling was kept at bay. All you wanted was him. Even if it was only temporary, even if it was only for tonight.

“I want you, Tom.” He relaxed, relief flooding his expression before he caught you in another heady kiss.

“Let’s get out of here.” The grin you’d missed so much lit his face as he gently put you down and guided you towards the emergency exit.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

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tommydoesntpayforsuits · 4 years ago

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I posted 3,663 times in 2021

570 posts created (16%)

3093 posts reblogged (84%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 5.4 posts.

I added 1,314 tags in 2021

#fun with friendos - 256 posts

#marina's asks - 237 posts

#marina recommends - 216 posts

#peaky blinders - 132 posts

#mrs. marina solomons - 124 posts

#anon ask - 78 posts

#lily in the sky with diamonds - 75 posts

#lily flower - 75 posts

#tag you're it - 62 posts

#alfie solomons - 59 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but i find it rich when people shit on it when only a couple of years earlier people were wearing fake tan with ssilver glitterin eyeshadow

My Top Posts in 2021

GUYS GUYS GUYS THERE WAS A PEAKY QUESTION ON WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE!

I'M LOSING MY MIND

150 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 20:30:56 GMT

151 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 05:42:33 GMT

MARINA'S MASTERLIST

CURRENT STATUS:

Fic Requests: CLOSED

Headcanon Requests: OPEN

🔹I do not write smut. Fankly, I don't think you'd want me to, lol. However, I'm more than willing to hear about NSFW headcanons or ideas you have. I'm not uncomfortable with sex, it's just I can't write it, haha. EDIT: I guess I do now, a bit. I don't take requests, though, not there yet.

🔹I tag NSFW things and #simping #nsfw. Feel free to block it, I'm not here to make you feel uncomfortable and I don't get offended easily.

🔹Also, please let me know if I forget to tag something. I am VERY forgetful, it will happen.

🔹The people in the list below are who I write for. Non-negotiable, I'm afraid.

🔹For my fics, I recommend using the InteractiveFics Chrome extension to replace the variables to your preferred criteria. It's free and only takes a couple of clicks.

🔹Here's my Fanfiction.net

🔹Here's my AO3

🔹Here's my Quotev (I don't go there much anymore, idk why I bother)

🔹If I know you IRL and you found this blog, no you didn't, go away

QUEUE

NOW! Onto the main event; the moment you came for:

See the full post

190 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 22:41:38 GMT

Maybe It's for the Best | Part I

Summary: Charlie is having a hard time adjusting to his father's remarriage and his constant hostility is driving a wedge into it.

Word Count: 2836 words

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Variables: Y/n, Y/N

Warnings: angst, mention of sex, feelings of abandonment from Charlie, soft Tommy with Charlie, Tommy and Charlie are still grieving, I guess mild season 3 spoilers if you squint.

Author’s Note: I recommend using the InteractiveFics Chrome extension to replace the variables to your preferred criteria. It's free and only takes a couple of clicks.

This fic is also for @deepdonutkid's 300 follower milestone contest. Congrats for 300 followers!

MASTERLIST

Tommy Shelby SFW Taglist

Please fill out this google form to be added or removed from the taglist.

Part I -> Part II -> Part III

See the full post

1121 notes • Posted 2021-06-19 13:12:37 GMT

Maybe It's for the Best | Part II

gif from @nofckingfighting

Summary: Tommy is miserable, Y/n is not coping well, Charlie realises what he did, and Ada is caught in the middle of it all.

Word Count: 5095 words (I told you it was gonna be long)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Variables: Y/n

Warnings: angst, mention of sex, feelings of abandonment from Charlie, Tommy and Charlie are still grieving, I guess mild season 3 spoilers if you squint, mentions of substance abuse, in one scene you can interpret it as being alcohol abuse, Karl is being a shit, Charlie cries a lot, Reader is struggling, Reader misses Tommy and Charlie, there's a horse, mentions of death, jealousy

Author’s Note: I really hope this does part I justice. There's gonna be a part III soon, but I've got to pack cause I'm moving to Belgium, so idk when it'll be out.

I recommend using the InteractiveFics Chrome extension to replace the variables to your preferred criteria. It’s free and only takes a couple of clicks.

If you need a song to set the mood: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) - Kate Bush

EDIT: I'm really sorry guys. I didn't notice until now, but some glitch happened and the first scene of the fic didn't copy. I'm so embarrassed bec everyone who praised it just didn't get a beginning. Sorry. If you would be so kind to read it again, it would mean the world to me.

MASTERLIST

Tommy Shelby SFW Taglist

Please fill out this google form to be added or removed from the taglist.

Part I -> Part II -> Part III

See the full post

1255 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 23:23:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

OF COURSE TUMBLR IS ALSO YELLING AT ME FOR PART 3 OMFG

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago

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Once Upon A Dream

A very merry February birthday to @snidgetwidgeon. I hope you like it. It’s based on the first couple minutes of this!

It was an understatement to say that Zelda was dissatisfied with who was cast as the Prince to her Sleeping Beauty. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that the new kid would get the role, being one of only three boys in the program. She always hated that boys got praised for landing one measly pirouette while her fouettés on pointe were heavily criticized, but now that one of the boys’ tomfoolery would make her look like a fool in her first lead role, she silently grumbled as she slid her pointe shoe onto her left foot, securing it around her heel with her thumbs.

She was tying the shiny ribbons around her ankle when he walked into the studio, Zelda seeing him out of the corner of her eye and immediately deciding that was enough.

She felt his eyes on her as she continued to pretend she didn’t notice he had entered, Zelda switching over to put on her right shoe.

“Always nice to see my students arriving before I do,” Zelda heard the teacher say as she entered the room and made a B-line for the stereo, placing her purse, notebook, and keys on the wooden stool next to it. Zelda’s head had popped up immediately at the sound of her clunking heels.

“We’ll work on the Act III variation today,” the teacher said as she finnicked with stereo. “Out of order, I know, but I figured it would get you two acquainted with moving with each other. I’m assuming you two have at least met.”

The teacher said that expecting a reply in the affirmative, and thus she turned around when there was nothing spoken to see the two dancers at opposite sides of the room deflecting their gazes from each other.

It would seem odd that two people who had taken technique classes together for a month now wouldn’t have formally met, but in dance classes you know someone else’s name and skill level within the first fifteen minutes of class, without even speaking a word. Unless they already know each other or become friends, most dancers never truly have a formal introduction to each other.

“Are you seriously going to waste my time being shy?” The teacher asked rhetorically. “Go on.”

“Zelda,” she continued, prompting her star pupil. “Introduce yourself.”

Zelda had to keep from mumbling that she just did.

“I’m Zelda,” she said, finally actually looking her partner in his striking, blue eyes. Zelda denied that her heart fluttered.

“Link,” he said in reply, Zelda unable to help herself from checking him out in his bicep-exposing white shirt and his black tights that gave her a more than fantastic impression of his more private parts. However, if she were asked about Link’s appearance at this very moment, she would deny her attraction and say he was terribly ugly.

Link checked her out similarly, the way her ensemble of a blue leotard and pale pink tights accentuate her curves in the most perfect ways. He knew right then and there that he had a terrible crush on his pas de deux partner.

“Be sure you two warm up to each other before opening night,” the teacher said as she moved to the front of the classroom, her footwear now changed from black wedges to beige jazz shoes.

“All right,” the teacher started, “so you both will start stage left.”

Zelda moved to that side of the room and Link looked as if he wasn’t entirely sure what stage left was until he followed Zelda. Zelda more than noticed this and once again resented Link for existing. If not, they may have gotten an actual professional to partner her.

——————————————————————————————————

Zelda stood in the curtain wings with her hands on her hips, keeping her feet warm by transitioning which one was pointed.

Her tutu bounced slightly as she did, the silver fabric on top of the corset and the tulle perfectly accentuating her elegance. Link came up beside her as they waited for their entrance.

“Do you still hate me?” Link asked.

They had been rehearsing for almost two months now, and Link had gotten the feeling that their cheeky, sarcastic exchanges between run throughs had meant she had started to warm up to him. Their pas de deux had been running quite smoothly and even the director kept using the phrase “poignant chemistry” to describe their dynamic on stage. Now that they neared the end of their opening show, Link figured he would test the waters.

He didn’t see Zelda smirk, but she did.

“Maybe,” she replied teasingly, continuing to warm up her feet.

“Our queue is coming up,” Link said as he offered his hand, Zelda taking it so he could gently clutch her fingertips as the choreography so deemed.

They walked on stage with pointed toes and fake smiles, presenting themselves to the audience with their muscle-toned legs in effacé devant. They turned their heads towards each other as their smile turned more genuine, Zelda even adorning a blush that was much more than what her stage makeup had been.

The pair moved their outside arms to middle fifth and back to second before stepping forward together, dislodging their hands and, right on the music, assuming a croisé position.

And thus the dance began, Zelda thinking through every step as she did it, and always anticipating the next, while all at once making it look as effortless as possible to the audience.

Temps lié, drift arms to cross in front, rond de jambe to fifth, sous-sus up

Link’s hand in hers was firm and steady as she moved her leg to passé and into a front développé with very little shake. She leaned back into a cambré and met his glance on the way down, now observing his blush.

Fouetté to attitude, stay steady on your box

Link’s hand met her waist with a gentle touch of support, Zelda feeling stable even as she moved her arms in the port de bras. Everything seemed to come easy when dancing with him.

He turned her around as her leg shifted to an arabesque, his hands on either side on her hips until they let go, allowing the audience to clap at her strength.

Sous-sus, run, run, run, run, run to tendu derrière, turn to face Link and

Here it was, this part she had grown to love.

The choreography was for them to run to each other, for their hands to meet as Link lowered into a lunge and Zelda went into a penché that descended her head down to his. Their teacher had referred to it as “the kiss”, although it was only Zelda resting her chin on his to only mimic the appearance of Aurora and the Prince kissing in their happy ending.

The first time they did it in rehearsal, Zelda resisted even going down far enough to touch his chin, and Link himself was too embarrassed to not flinch away from those all-too-tempting lips. Over the next several weeks of rehearsal, however, the two got used to touching chins just as they were meant to.

Yet on this opening night, Link decided just as he lunged that he simply could not resist anymore, not allowing her to rest her chin on his by instead moving his lips to hers.

It was only a small peck, as there was the rest of the dance to do, but as Zelda stepped back from the penché, she smiled, and right then and there Link knew his feelings of love were reciprocated.

The rest of the pas de deux went smoother than ever and, by the end, no fake smile was necessary. For all Link and Zelda cared, the audience could have withered away and left them alone, together in their unspoken love.

#zelink #ballet!zelink #i guess #zelda #link #I promise I didn't do that much research #I'm just a ballerina and that means I can never forget this stuff

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echoesofmyfootsteps · 4 years ago

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Life, After: Reylo Domesticity Drabbles

Chapter 3: In Which Rey Falls Asleep on Ben’s Chest

Headcanon: Considering their backgrounds, I have theories about the ways they show and feel love (which is reflected in the chapter). Rey, who always looked for and cherished her treasures, feels love through gifts. Ben, who often felt overlooked and ignored and alone, feels love through acts of service. They both feel it through words of affirmation.

Rey felt all the air leave her lungs in a great fwoosh as she collapsed diagonally onto the bed.

Covered in a plush feather comforter Leia had given them as a housewarming present (slightly awkward though it was) and enough down pillows to create a proper nest at night, it was easily Rey’s favorite place on Earth.

They’d opted for a king—mostly for Ben’s length. After all, with the way Rey slept glomped onto him like a starfish every night, they certainly didn’t need the width. Every inch, every down-filled addition was wrapped in crisp white Egyptian cotton.

She and Ben called it “The Cloud.”

Continue below, or read on AO3.

“I’m knackered.” She toed off her shoes, rolling right into Ben’s side and fluffing the comforter over herself. The sheets felt cool against her feet, and she splayed out her left hand as she slid it under the pillow. “I had four patients who needed massage and one requiring special assistance throughout their circuit.” Her voice was muffled from being wedged into Ben’s arm.

“I don’t want to do a single thing.”

Ben closed his laptop and put it on the bedside table, sinking down and turning to face her. “What can I get for you?” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

She perked up enough to peer at him. His beautiful brown eyes stared back at her earnestly. If she could move she might have tried to BOOP his nose.

“I suppose I would like a bath. But I don’t want to mooove,” she whined gently. He let out a small laugh.

Before she knew it, he was up and walking toward the bathroom. The sound of running water met her ears.

Then he was back, gently scooping her into his arms. Like a dried leaf, she thought smugly as she nestled into his soft sweater. Her cold nose quickly began to warm from contact with his furnace-like body.

Spice and cedar. That was him. And some distinctly unique scent that was Ben.

Everything about him was warm—his body, his scent, his eyes.

He set her on the ledge next to the tub, and kneeled in front of her. “I put some of your favorite salts in. Take your time. I’m going out for a moment to grab something, but I’ll be back before you’re done.” He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her.

“Thank you, Ben.” She leaned forward to kiss him once more.

Rey lost track of time once she was in the bath—though she’d been in long enough for the water to cool to slightly warmer than tepid and her fingers to become thoroughly pruney. She glanced to the hook on the nearest wall and saw her green bathrobe. Stepping out, she shrugged it on and went back into the room.

Ben glanced up from his computer when he felt her enter and gave her his signature grin.

“Feel better?”

“Mmmm yes.” She flopped back on the bed and curled next to him. “The only thing missing is—”

Ben handed her a spoon and a carton of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream.

She gave him a pointed glance. “Ooooh you really are too good to me.”

“No such thing.” He pulled his own caramel coffee milkshake from the nightstand and slurped at it, then handed her the remote to the TV mounted on the wall in front of their bed. “You have the conn.”

Before doing anything more, Rey leaned over, grabbed Ben’s face, and gave him a firm kiss on the lips, then proceeded to kiss all around his face. “You,” left cheek, “really are,” forehead, “the best,” right cheek. She finished with a peck on his nose. “Thank you for taking care of me so well.” He smiled and kissed her in return.

Only after that was settled did Rey nestle herself down and queue up Netflix, finding one of their tried-and-true sitcoms that signified comfort and happiness.

They watched and ate, until Rey decided she should stop else she get sick. She took their leftovers down to the freezer.

They kept watching until she decided she’d better wash her face and brush her teeth.

Then she came back and settled down under Ben’s outstretched arm, laying right under the crook of it, head on his chest.

And they kept watching.

Rey fell asleep that way, as usual.

In the place between wakefulness and dreams, she felt the faint caress of fingers brushing the wisps off her cheeks and the press of lips to her forehead. But mostly she just felt warm. Safe.

Home.

Take away The Cloud, the TV, the comforts, even the four walls around her, and she would still be home.

Home was the beating heart that lulled her to sleep every night.

#this is totally self indulgent #who doesn't want a bath and ben & jerry's?#Ben Solo #Rey #reylo fic #reylo au #domestic reylo #reylo fanfiction #reylo fanfic #fluff

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spell-cleaver · 5 years ago

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DAY 14: WHUMPTOBER: Is Something Burning? @whumptober2020

Again, this is set in The Pirate Son ‘verse! This is how Luke escaped being hanged.

His father wasn’t going to help him. The queue for the gallows snaked forward and forward, until Luke stood in front of the platform and there were hands under his shoulders, hauling him up. He shivered as the cold wind blew through his hair, but lifted his chin, stoic, as the hangman shoved him none-too-gently onto the trap door. The cuffs which suppressed Luke’s magic were stiff against his wrist, making him feel even heavier. Every footstep thumped like a battle drum. A death knell.

The hangman leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait to see you get what you deserve, pirate.”

Luke said nothing. He kept staring out at the crowd—he had a better view from up here. The Emperor’s box was directly front of him, draped in red silks, with his father standing at the Emperor’s right side. Palpatine was watching him closely, goading him—he was mouthing something at Luke, but Luke refused to look—and Vader, under his eternal mask, looked impassive. There was nothing to see there, so Luke did not view him for very long.

Instead, he just set his jaw, and stared at the fluttering edge of that red silk. Embroidered in gold and black, it was fraying, damp from the rain and mud that permeated the rest of the square.

He kept his eyes fixed where that scrap of fabric had been in his vision even when the hangman eclipsed it, dragging the coarse rope of the noose around his neck. His breath was hot against his ear.

“My brother was a great sailor. A loyal man. When he was assigned a ship on Tarkin’s pride ship, the Death Star, it was the family’s honour.” Luke did close his eyes before this man could spit in them. “Until some nobody pirate sank it and sent him to the bottom of the sea.”

“You wish I was a nobody pirate,” Luke whispered back. “You wish that all of us were nobodies, or and you think that your precious sailors are any better than we are. They’re not. We’re not. And if breaking unjust Imperial laws that perpetuate oppression, sadism and death makes me a villain, or a scoundrel… I am happy to be one.”

The wounds up his back, his face, from the keelhauling still stung. They stung like crazy. And when that hangman backhanded him so hard he saw stars, they hurt even more.

“I hope your death is agonising. It seems to be. And I know you will suffer thereafter.”

Luke spat at his feet. “All the suffering this life directs at people like me, I’d hope that I wouldn’t.”

He cringed back when he heard movement, bracing himself for another hit, but the hangman just grunted. There—there was a moment where he pulled on the rope, and Luke cried out as it constricted his throat momentarily, tightly, for three long seconds—

Then the guy loosened it again and walked over to the lever, probably smiling to himself.

It occurred to Luke that it probably wasn’t wise to antagonise the man who held his life in his hands, but he was going to snuff it out anyway. Might as well enjoy antagonising him while he could.

His gaze found that scrap of fabric again, blowing in the wind. His vision was still blurry from the hit—or were those tears? He didn’t want to die, after all, much less at his father’s order—so when at first he saw the smoke, he thought he was imagining it. The first shadow he would see, among many.

Then he blinked, while the hangman began to read his charges.

“Luke Skywalker, pirate, self-styled ‘privateer’ who served aboard wanted ships the Falcon and the Rogue, is sentenced, for dozens of counts of murder, piracy, theft, sabotage—”

Was… was that…?

“—damage of Imperial naval and civilian property, collusion with Rebels, treason—”

Smoke?

His mouth dropped open when he saw it; the gesture was uncomfortable, against the rope digging into his neck.

There was a fire burning.

There was a fire burning under the Emperor’s box.

Someone had set fire to the silks.

“—resisting arrest, and most notably, the destruction of Governor Tarkin’s naval vessel the Death Star and the wanton slaughter of all personnel on board—”

Palpatine had no idea. Palpatine was staring at Luke, as Luke saw when he finally deigned to look at him, with a sadistic glee on his face, a faint smile. Luke smiled back, allowing his bitterness to shine through—and none of his hope.

His gaze flicked to his father, at Palpatine’s right. Did he notice the smoke, the flames eating the box away as the hangman drivelled? Surely he must. Surely—

But Vader did not flinch.

He kept staring at Luke.

“—for these crimes, and many others not listed, in the name of His Majesty the Emperor Palpatine and the glorious Empire he protects, Skywalker is to hang by the neck until dead—”

A shadow flickered. Luke raised his gaze further, to see a silhouette atop a nearby house around the square, the sun on their shoulder, raising a bow.

Aimed right at him.

Kill me, he mouthed. Kill me quickly.

“—and,” the hangman finished, “may God have mercy on his rotten soul.”

He lowered the scroll of paper, his heavy black clothes moving around him in a way that was uncomfortably similar to Luke’s father’s as he stepped up to the lever. Luke didn’t let himself look away as he put his hand on it, ready to pull.

“Does the condemned have any last words to express?” Palpatine called out suddenly, the rest of the square awed into silence by his voice. “Anything he would like to say. I am not a man without mercy, if he repents.”

The hangman paused, clearly resentful that Luke might not be killed after all, but he paused to look at Luke.

Luke looked levelly at Palpatine, and pointedly did not look at the fire underneath him.

“I hope you burn,” he said.

Palpatine’s lips twisted. “Do it.”

And then several things happened at once.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw movement, and instinctually flinched, expecting the yank on his neck any time soon, expecting—

He was not expecting—

The archer on the rooftop fired. The arrowhead was broad, and sharp—and scythed right through the rope. Luke gasped as he felt it thump against his back.

That—

How—

He didn’t stop to think. He didn’t stop to breathe—he just reached up, with his hands that were bound together in front of him, and seized the noose, yanking on it until it loosened, tearing it off his neck and stumbling toward the edge of the platform.

“Hey—!" the hangman shouted—but not at him. There was another thunk, and a spray of blood, and the hangman went down.

His knife was on his belt.

Luke’s eyes alighted on it, and he scrambled for it, hurrying, ignoring the way a hailstorm of arrows was descending from the rooftops, picking off assailants climbing onto the gallows one by one, crawling toward the hangman’s corpse awkwardly to where the blade reflected the steel grey sky…

He smelt burning before he heard the crackling.

When he looked up, he expected to be the recipient of a furious glare on Palpatine’s part. Nor did he expect his father to be please, either. But when he glanced up, Palpatine—of course—had bigger issues to worry about.

The stand was on fire.

He was surrounded by flames.

The red guards were shouting, grabbing for His Insincere Majesty, trying to get him out soon—and Luke laughed when he turned his head and closed his hand around the hilt of the knife. He sawed at his bonds, quickly, not wasting any time, even as the smoke rose and the crackling got louder—the surroundings got hotter.

Leia was here! It had to be her; there was no one else he knew who was so deadly in aim, so brilliant, good enough to plan this out. And Wedge—Wedge, whose alarming pyromaniac tendencies they’d had to aggressively curb on a ship at sea, it must have been him who suggested the fire, and Han who had the sheer balls to pull it off—

These were his friends, they were coming for him—

The ropes gave. He gave a sigh of relief, then—then had a thought. Jabbed the tip of the knife into the lock on the shackles that bound his magic, twisted it, wriggled it…

It fell loose.

He crowed as his magic flooded back into him. Whipped his head up and glanced around—and when one of the city guard came for him, sword out and face contorted in hatred, Luke shot him back with a strong spell to the gut.

Then he got to his feet.

Every part of him hurt. His back and face roared with his keelhauling injuries. His neck smarted, sore, where the guy had tightened the noose. His old, old wounds, from his capture, were still scrapes over his torso. His existence, as it had always been, was pain.

But his magic thrummed through him and all was well.

The fire was spreading. The crowd ran, screaming, and torn scraps of crimson silk danced in the wind, flickering about them, burning to embers and dust among the carnage. The Emperor’s beautiful box burnt, and before Luke’s very eyes, the fire jumped from wooden stand to wooden stand, until it gnawed at the very gallows he was standing on. He made to jump, to leave, to escape, to find his friends and get out of here and return to the sea where he belonged—

But he glanced at the Emperor’s box for one moment too long.

It was a monument to destruction, all orange and black. All he could see were silhouettes—but he knew those silhouettes.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

Luke stared.

Vader was pointing a sword at Palpatine.

His father opened his mouth to roar words Luke could not make out, and then sparks bluer than the fire itself erupted between the lords, obscuring Luke’s view, and—

Luke had delayed too long.

The fire was on the gallows, the deadweight noose shrivelling to a husk, the soles of his boots heating up. Smoke clogged his lungs.

“Jump, Luke!” a voice shouted, floating on the ashy air.

Luke took a running leap, and jumped.

The crowd was a thick knot of people, pushing and pulling in every which way, their terror evident in their screams. But one knot was put together, they knew what they were doing, hidden behind the helmets of Vader’s 501st soldiers—Luke’s friends were geniuses, that was the perfect way to smuggle themselves in—and when he jumped, they raised their hands to catch him. They grunted when he landed, letting him down harshly—his back twinged—but gently enough that no injury was done. One of them placed a hand on his shoulder.

A very tight hand.

“We have him,” an unfamiliar—no, not unfamiliar, no—voice said. “Tell Lord Vader we have him.”

“Lord Vader has left the Emperor’s box; he’ll meet us at the Lady,” another voice came, and then Luke was being hauled up, multiple hands clasped onto his arms, and—

“What!?” he asked, trying to shake them off. “What—what are you—”

“You’re coming with us, Skywalker.”

“What!? No!” Luke stopped. Kicked, struggled—screamed.

When they just shifted their grips on him so he couldn’t fight as easily, he cried out from pain of it.

“Where are my friends?” he demanded. “What are you—”

“Your friends aren’t here, Skywalker. Vader rescued you.” Luke’s jaw fell open. “And if you want to survive, if you want to escape being hanged, you are going to walk with us.”

Luke did not walk with them. And he did not make it easy for them to drag him.

Even undead soldiers disliked it when their fingers got ripped off.

#the pirate son #thepirateson #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars #flash fiction #flash fiction: star wars #whumptober2020 #whumptober

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Love is a Dog From Hell, 1/5 (Rosnali) - Mattels

is it really that complicated that denali wants to be the best? all signs from the figure-skating gods seem to point to yes. (especially with her decidedly adult and mature hatred of coach rosé, who keeps wearing those god awful skin-tight ski-pants.)

aka denali’s a figure skating coach, rosé’s a ski coach; the rest is history

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861322/chapters/73479360

November is sacred to Denali.

Although she’s a full-time figure-skating coach year round, boasting a full clientele of Olympic level students alongside a waiting list that seems to be growing by the year, November always manages to remind her why she started teaching to begin with.

Bonneville Academy, despite Denali considering its title of ‘academy’ being a stretch, has managed to wedge itself into her life, year after year. She spends six months of her year in Chicago, teaching private lessons to overenthusiastic and grossly rich teenagers, but from November through to April, she spends in Utah, working with the students to tighten their quadruple lutzes and receiving a paycheck that leaves her feeling pretty comfortable until the next November.

Although the school is technically a legitimate boarding school, offering fairly okay-quality education alongside the best training in the country all year, a lot of the students only attend for the ski season, unable or unwilling to fund a whole year.

Or maybe, Denali considers with a smile, nobody wants to live in the middle of nowhere, locked away in the mountains like a fucking yeti.

Michelle Visage, school director, emails Denali every year about working for them full-time, but every year Denali finds herself unable to leave Chicago behind. She loves her cozy city life, thank you very much. Living alone in her uptown apartment has yet to be beaten, even with the promise of the best skating facilities money can buy.

Half of the kids who attend don’t even realise how lucky they are, she finds herself thinking as her rental car starts the ascent to the school. It’s a long drive, the journey from Salt Lake to Bonneville is deliberately out of most peoples’ way, ensuring the cleanest snow and freshest powder for its plethora of skiers and snowboarders. She’d definitely have killed for something like this when she was still training.

The school is specialised, known for its premium winter sports programme raved about by former Olympians and their coaches. Everything is fully equipped, facilities and machines inside the camp always sparkling new and top of the line; huge dance studios with scary Russian ballet teachers to help her skaters achieve their best on the ice; big gyms and personal trainers; meals specially catered and designed to build muscle and strengthen bones.

It’s also really fucking expensive; Denali sees the checks on Michelle’s desk with their seemingly endless zeroes, given by mothers determined to boast that their little Sally went to Bonneville! But the elusive RuPaul, who Denali knows funds the school, but has never seen or heard much about, hands out plenty of scholarships to kids she deems talented and hard-working enough to thrive.

Denali’s car turns the corner, giving her a view of Bonneville’s ski slopes. She spots a couple of instructors already at the top of the chairlifts, riding down the mountain in neat lines as they enjoy the start of what’s looking to be a beautiful season. It’s still early, but it’s snowing heavily, Denali’s windscreen wipers working hard to keep the snowflakes off her windscreen.

As Denali pulls up to their entrance, she spots a couple of other employees hanging around outside, boisterous laughter coming from their conversations. They’re all old-timers, Denali is sure one or two of them have worked at the school since its opening in the late nineties.

She immediately spots the inky black mullet that belongs to Mik, one of the snowboarding coaches for the younger kids. She’s standing alone, narrow back pressed up against a red bricked wall as she smokes a cigarette, flicking ash off of the end into the thin layer of snow below her feet.

She gets out of her car, passing her keys over to the valet Michelle hires unnecessarily every year, always insisting, rather pointedly if you ask Denali, who seems to consistently be at the receiving end of the seemingly never-ending gripe, that she knows that someone’ll fuck up her parking arrangement, Denali.

It’s a fair point– Denali would never be bothered to follow Michelle’s colour-coordinated and meticulously planned spreadsheet, in which she’s grouped all the instructors of the same sport together in the carpark, as if it matters to anyone which spot they have.

The valet takes her bags too, which she’s perpetually grateful for; her suitcases are almost always overweight in the airport, despite taking three of her big ones with her. They’ll take them down to her room for her too, as if she’s staying in a nice hotel, not just a ridiculously boujee school.

Mik spots her, dropping the cigarette she was smoking and stubbing it against her chunky boots, jogging over to catch Denali in a tight hug. “Hey slut!”

Denali laughs, embracing her. “Nice to see you too, Mickey.”

Mik shrugs, letting her go with a smile. “You know you missed me, don’t even try it.” Denali rolls her eyes but can’t deny it, grinning when Mik wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Denali Foxx!” Michelle greets her loudly, ticking her name off on a clipboard. “Usual room,” she says, fishing a key out of her pocket and passing it to Denali.

“Roomies!” Mik says, laughing with an eye-roll when Denali pretends to shover her fingers down her throat complete with exaggerated gagging sounds.

Denali’s always grateful to room with Mik, the rooms are a slightly awkward size– too big to stay in alone, a little too small for two people. Mik works at the school year round, and Denali knows she’s equally grateful to have someone to share with, forever complaining about how empty it feels when she’s by herself with two beds.

“Almost everyone else is already on the slopes,” Michelle notes, turning around so she can point out people on the mountain behind them. “You’ve got a couple days until the kids are allowed out, so better make the most of it.”

The school is laid out like a small village, boys on one side and girls on another, divided in almost everything except meals, which they have in the dining hall all together. The dorms are split into age, six buildings facing parallel to one another in a large U-shape, each with attached communal bathrooms and showers for the students. The buildings are all deliberately short so you can gape at Utah’s mountains practically anywhere on campus.

“I’ve been waiting for you to go out,” Mik says, grabbing Denali’s hand between her cold fingers, trying to drag her down the asphalt leading to the sports instructors’ rooming in the centre of the U.

The academics take place a couple miles down the road in a big building that actually looks like a school, which Michelle swears helps the students to stay focused, but Denali can’t say she’s totally convinced. She’s seen them get off the bus after school, racing one another to be the first in the chairlift queue.

“I really don’t want to go.” Denali whines, but lets Mik tug her down the path regardless. She’s not the best snowboarder even on her best days, and Mik always wants to take her down the especially mogul-ly runs, zipping in between trees and dodging ice patches that are still missing snow.

“Yes you do!” She says, practically skipping down the road. “There’s only a couple of us here anyways, and the kids aren’t allowed to carve up the snow yet– it’ll be fun!”

Denali rolls her eyes, with a sigh. “I’m only doing green runs!”

“Only red runs? Perfect!”

“No, fuck, come on Mik,” she huffs, her breath coming out in sharp puffs in the cold air. “I’m out of practice, this isn’t fair.”

Mik looks at her, shrugging her narrow shoulders, “how’s that my issue, gorge?”

She groans loudly as they approach the staff building, letting Mik lead the way to their room, unlocking the door with her own key.

Mik keeps their room uncharacteristically clean, especially in comparison to her wardrobe filled with clothes piled up on the bottom rather than on their hangers. Denali is pleased to see her blue suitcases on the side of the room Mik’s left for her, both her skating and snowboard boot bags by the end of her bed.

Mik talks aimlessly about the year so far as Denali changes out of her oversized shirt and equally oversized jeans combo. She rifles through her suitcases, half listening to the other girl, searching for her snow-pants and a hoodie, adhering to Mik’s advice to forgo her ski-jacket as it’s still early in the season and sunny enough, despite the snowfall.

She makes her help her lace up her boots properly, watching Mik’s skilled hands tightening them in record time. “Are you borrowing a board?” She asks.

“Mm,” Denali confirms, “are they ready?”

“You can literally borrow mine,” Mik squints up at her from her kneeling position, “we’re like, basically the same height.”

Denali scoffs at this, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “No fucking way am I borrowing one of yours, they’re all deathtraps.”

“They’re literally normal boards.”

“No, they’re all weirdly thin and flexible, I’ll literally break my neck.”

Mik frowns, “ok, first of all, rude. Second of all, I’ll have you know my boards are perfectly safe–”

“–did you or did you not snap one in half last year?”

“That was one time!”

“And that’s one time too many, doll.” Denali says, leaning down to tuck the laces into the tongue of her boot, pulling down her pants so they rest over the top. She reaches out a palm, helping Mik up from her kneeling position. “Get ready and I’ll meet you by the chairlift, okay?”

Mik rolls her eyes, reaching into Denali’s suitcase to attach her goggles to her helmet, passing it over with her gloves tucked neatly inside, as she would with her ten year-olds. Denali yells a thanks over her shoulder as she leaves, weaving her way out of their building to run down to their small ski shop.

☆☆☆☆☆

Humiliatingly enough, Mik makes Denali carry her snowboard with her on the chairlift, refusing to let her sit with one foot strapped in like a normal person would.

“You’re gonna knock your teeth out,” she laughs when Denali complains loudly about it. “Like fully splat, bitch.”

“I know how to ride a chairlift, thank you very much.” Denali grumbles, clutching her board tightly in her arms and sitting down. Mik reaches behind them, pulling down the safety bar, which Denali rests her feet on.

“Can’t have any casualties on day one, gorge.”

“The only casualty will be from me wringing your skinny little neck out when you push me down the mountain, you fucking bitch.” She groans, looking at the run below them.

There’s a pack of skiers weaving their way down tightly together under the poles of the lift. She can already see the deep valleys of moguls, even with her terrible eyesight. One of them looks up at their chair, waving at them with a grin.

Denali squints and she can see it’s Tayce, one of the newer instructors at the school. They had made fast friends last year, gossiping together about who hooked up with who over Thanksgiving– no, no, no, it’s clearly Brooklyn and Vanessa, they keep eyeing each other up–, which of their kids were likely to actually make the Olympic team– all of mine, thank you very much, Taycey–, who they might fuck given the chance– have you not seen A’Whora in the physio suite? I’d let her curb-stomp my neck– et cetera, et cetera.

“Everyone else is coming up tonight and tomorrow,” Mik remarks, waving over-exaggeratedly waving down to Tayce like she’s in a pantomime. “Tayce is like the only bitch I can stand here, as of currently”

“ As of currently? I’m here, as of currently! ”

“My point still stands, gorge.”

“After this run can you join up with them?” Denali groans, “Tayce’ll go super-speed with you. And she’ll let you harass her without breaking your nose.”

Mik laughs, “I don’t go that fast, bitch.”

“Have you ever seen that Disney movie Bolt ? Y’know the one with that dog who runs like, full speed of light? They could do a live-action version with you as the dog.”

“Woof!”

Denali’s face cracks into a grin as she rolls her eyes, “I’m serious! One minute you’re next to me, the next you’re–” she slides her gloved hands together in a forward motion “–zip . And then I’m the idiot who can’t get down.

“I’d never leave you!” Mik gasps, clapping a palm to her chest. “How dare you, fucking bitch.”

Denali scoffs loudly in response. Every year Mik tries to bully her into doing a couple runs together, and every year without fail Denali obliges, only to find herself stuck at the top of a mountain, Mik nowhere in sight.

“Head,” Mik announces, reminding Denali to duck her head so Mik can raise the safety bar, as they start to approach the end of the lift. Mik lines herself up to the drop-off, riding around the corner smoothly, giggling as Denali has to jog to keep up.

They both sit down to strap in, Mik tightening Denali’s bindings for her and pulling her up with a roll of her eyes.

“See you at the bottom?” Mik asks. Before Denali can answer, she’s slipped off, whooping as she hits a bump and flies upwards, grabbing the nose of her board as she hits the jump.

“So much for never leaving me, I guess,” Denali grumbles, carefully edging herself down the slopes with big sweeping S-shaped turns, she knows Mik will laugh at her about later, reminding her how her ten year-olds could easily out-board her.

Uh yeah, I’d fucking hope so, Denali thinks to herself, curving around onto the toe-edge of her board. Otherwise this’d be the biggest waste of money like, uh, ever.

The air that whips around her is cool, blowing snowflakes into her dark hair, but she doesn’t feel cold, happy in her thick sweatshirt and pants. Her feet are desperate to be unlatched from the board, feeling slightly unnatural to be locked in. She’s much more in her element spraying ice as she nails a complicated spin, she knows Mik would eat ass on.

Yeah, she thinks, fuck you and your ten year-olds, Mickey.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Michelle’s put the board up,” Tayce says in the late afternoon, sticking her head around Denali and Mik’s door propped open by a snowboard boot.

Denali looks up from the book she’s reading, comfortably curled up on her bed with her mandatory evening uniform of thick fluffy socks and sweats on. Mik, on the other hand, is still in her lycra leggings and hoodie, having made no effort to change since coming back, much to Denali’s disgust.

“Well?” Tayce asks in annoyance, cocking her hip, “you coming or what?”

Mik groans, rolling off of her bed and moving to stand next to Tayce in their doorway, bare feet on the cold linoleum. Denali carefully places her bookmark in her book, grabbing a pair of Nike slides– sponsored, thank you very much– and begrudgingly walking down the corridor to their big common room.

The Board– with an optional trademarked symbol from Mik– as it’s been aptly dubbed, is a large whiteboard divided neatly (by the increasingly anal Michelle) into a leaderboard. The top ten coaches are listed top to bottom, ordering the number of world title holders they’ve coached at Bonneville, bonus points being allotted to those whose kids win gold, and double points if the title being held was Olympian.

Michelle says it builds healthy competition. Denali says it builds a desire to Tonya Harding every other bitch in this place. Tomayto, tomahto.

Denali hadn’t even been on The Board, until she had returned three seasons ago with the last World Skating Championships under her belt, managing to land three podium spots. She proudly boasted for months to anyone that looked like they might listen that her girls had swept the categories, winning medals across the ladies’ single event, ice dance and pair skating.

Despite her allure of confidence, she knows she only made it up there because Michelle insists on starting fresh each year. She tries to tell them that she’s giving the new coaches a chance, but everyone knows it’s to keep egos in check.

Egos like mother-fucking Rosé McCorkell’s, who’s placed first on The Board two years running.

First as in one spot ahead of Denali’s second, first. First as in gloating in Denali’s face every opportunity she gets (and rest be assured, every opportunity means every opportunity ), first. First as in deliberately sabotaging Denali’s skaters, first– well, at least in Denali’s eyes.

Okay, whatever, yes it could have been a coincidence that one of her front runners’ sole came unglued from the attached blade on the morning of Nationals a year ago. And yeah, sure, maybe Rosé was like, several states away from the incident. And okay, yes, she still came in first after the whole thing, so it’s not it even really mattered after all. But Denali just knows Rosé had something to do with it, that bitch.

“Who’s on top of the pyramid this year?” Mik sing-songs when they approach The Board. Denali instinctively works her way through their photos from the bottom to the top, clapping Tayce lightly on the back when she sees her smack-dab in the centre.

She isn’t nervous; she knows she did well this year, the girls she had coached in the previous season competing in nationally-recognised competitions, pictures of them grinning up on their podiums, flowers in sequinned arms, emailed to her and the school. And it’s not even like it matters.

Her photo stands in line with another, both placed side-by-side at the top of the leaderboard. She can hear Mik mumble an oh shit, with a laugh as she realises that Denali is tied with Rosé at the top.

Okay, so maybe it matters a little bit.

Rosé’s photo looks down at her. She’s wearing her obnoxious signature pink ski jacket, her name embroidered into it in a sparkly silver thread. Her equally obnoxiouly signature curly pink hair has been tied up in a messy ponytail, and she stares at Denali with a big fucking grin on her face.

Denali wants to rip down the laminated photo, putting it into a paper shredder and watch as Rosé’s dumb face gets torn into ribbons.

“Healthy competition huh?” Tayce remarks, wrapping a long arm around Denali’s shoulders. “The cheek, the nerve, the audacity and the gumption, mama.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” A voice groans, Denali turns around and is met by the woman of the hour. Rosé looks her up and down, irritation flickering in her green eyes. “Stepping your shit up, this season ice princess?”

Denali arches an eyebrow in response. “Evidently, McCorkell.”

Rosé smiles at her, all pearly white teeth Denali is pretty sure are veneers– well, at least that’s the rumour she and Tayce started last year as a laugh.

All of a sudden, she feels like a shark’s prey, a minnow trapped inside the great white’s tank. Rosé doesn’t have to say anything for Denali to know that she’s going to be in for a tough season.

Better get that hammer ready, she thinks to herself, I am not the Nancy Kerrigan of this competition, bitch.

tags: rosé, denali foxx, gottmik, rosnali, rivals to lovers, coach au, figure skating au, skiing au, lesbian au, love is a dog from hell, mattels

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