#so like its not MESSY messy... just not as completely perfect as I stress myself to make it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rweoutofthewoods · 3 months

Note

hey,

just saw the ask about someone discussing ur characterisation of James in young blood and how they thought he wasn’t a ‘baddie’ and that he was ‘not cool’ (btw this isn’t like hate to the person who asked this or anything incase u reply to this publicly and they see this, ik they said they don’t mean it as hate, I’m just saying what I was thinking cause I think the difference is interesting I guess🫣 so all love!!! ANYWAYS.)

I just thought it was interesting cause I did not get that vibe at all from James in the story. What I got from it was that James was actually cool in juvie, in a lowkey probably a little shit, who is funny and annoyingly endearing kinda way. I also thought he was a ‘badass’ in his own kinda way. But I don’t rlly think ‘badass’ is the best way to describe him in this fic tho, i think it’s more he is very capable and able at holding his own but he’s not like some intimidating, cool and mysterious typical badass (I’ve written this word too many times I hate it now😔) like what I feel Regulus is more like. And I also did get the impression he was a ‘bad kid’ but in a more ‘ I was a good kid and I’m a good kid in my core but something shit happened to me so now I’m acting out and doing bad things cause I don’t know how to properly deal with what’s happened to me , people expect it of me and this is my coping mechanism plus the whole getting myself hurt makes me feel better in a way kinda way (that doesn’t make sense I don’t think BUT WE MOVE) and he doesn’t come across as supposed to have been some teen who was out here doing all this mega bad boy (ew I don’t like that phrase but I’m using it anyways) crimes, but more like enough to get u in juvie ones and be significantly concerning. I could ramble more cause that fat ass paragraph doesn’t even fully express what I got from the way u wrote James. But just overall I think it’s interesting how ppl can get different things out of the same piece of writing. Also sorry if what I interpreted it as, is not what you were looking for, it probs did come across the way u wanted I’m just shit at explaining well and concisely lol.

ALSO (sorry if u hate me for this 10k essay oopsies) the thing about u worrying that James seems OOC but saying he’s not, ur just portraying the effects of childhood. I PERSONALLY DID NOT READ IT AND THINK HE WAS OOC, PLEASE DO NOT STRESS ABOUT IT UR WRITING IS FABULOUS AND IM VERY MUCH GETTING WHAT UR PUTTING ACROSS. Like u can tell by the way James acts with his friends and his internal monologue that he would be what some people more typically see James as, but it’s his trauma which is preventing him from properly being so. Like it’s just this road block. AND EVEN IF HE DOES GET OOC ITS REALISTIC WHO CARES, ILL FIGHT ANYONE WHO DOES, ITS UR FIC(unless you care then I apologise queen) but it’s so realistic like I went through a rlly shitty thing in my early teenage years and personally I think I’m a completely different person cause of it, and it’s interesting to read the way James changes because of what happens to him. Personally, I rlly like the way u write James (omd especially in EOITV I just want to gush over that fic for a second, it’s chefs kiss I love it so much, thank you for creating it, your mind is a wonderful place) I like how he can be a bit more messy, it’s interesting (also that reminds me another reason why I don’t think he’s spineless in young blood, cause he had a go at Regulus when they were fighting and I was like YEAH I KNOW U CAN SAY UNFAIR THINGS BUT ALSO STANDING UP FOR URSELF AND ACTING OUT AND NOT BEING PERFECT YAY, cause sometimes I do see James written in situations like that where he just takes it (nothing wrong with that I just personally prefer where he can gives just as good as he gets sometimes!:)))).

I need to stfu this is way to long, I’m actually embarrassed and scared u think I’m like some obsessed weirdo, I’m not I promise, it’s just 2:30 am and the most common feedback I get on school essays is ‘stop the waffle’. So long ass pieces of writing tend to be a bit too familiar with me 😔

okay last bit I promise, but THE AMOUNT OF NEW FICS U HAVE AND THE RATE U BANG THEM OUT?!?!, whenever I come to your blog and see a post about a new fic, I’m like wow your insane but in the best way possible cause how is this possible?! How are you able to do this?! This is so impressive ?!😭 Cause ur fics r to such a good writing standard and each one is so unique and different to each other, I run around my room in excitement each time u post a new chapter.

I could go on but I won’t because the fear of appearing a tinsy bit insane is real and idk if this is overwhelming, but yeha sorry, my waffling tendencies can be my downfall 😭

but uhhhhh Yeha overall, your writing and ability to write is very impressive, bye 😗😁

Hello!! I can’t answer you privately bc ur anon so I’ll start by saying: that ask? No lingering thoughts or feelings about it whatsoever and this reply is not even going to be about that, just what you’ve said. I can’t imagine how much time it took you to write all that because it takes me FOREVER to write replies to asks, so I appreciate your time and ofc have to write you a response because I’m honored <33

Just on the subject on Youngblood James. You put it perfectly and I think I said this in my end notes vaguely—childhood trauma changes EVERYTHING. Exactly as you said, I myself had a pretty shitty childhood and I think I’d be an entirely different person if I’d grown up differently. I got BPD out of it (😭) and Youngblood James got some pretty fucked up mental health and coping skills. And it was my hope that seeing James thru Reg’s POV and seeing his relationship with his friends etc. that you’d be able to see there’s still some of that James Potter we know and love, BUT part of James’ canon character (or fanon idk) is that he grew up comfortably, privileged, with two loving parents, getting whatever he wanted. We see it in canon with how cocky and in need of some humbling he was, and Youngblood James got way more than humbled, his life got blown to bits and while he was very, very, young. Before he even would have been Hogwarts age in canon. SO, I don’t think he’s OOC at all, I think he’s exactly who he’d be if those things happened to him. And I put a lot of thought into his character and his actions. So me fearing him seeming OOC is really just that I can put things out into the world but I never have any idea how it will be taken or if my intentions will be realized.

I didn’t intend for him to be badass at all because like… James’ crimes were all really in efforts to self-destruct. Him fighting people he did because he wanted to be hurt. Stealing a car? Well… we know by now how that ended. I also will note I didn’t intend reg to be badass either (tho maybe his character naturally is a little bit) because Youngblood isn’t about that, or how cool it is to commit crimes. it’s about how fucked up the system is, how childhood trauma lingers, how we need to do more to support and help kids in need instead of writing them off. So many kids act out or get in trouble because of much deeper reasons than them just wanting to cause trouble. And I say this as someone who was a kid who acted out, and who also recently as a more straight and narrow adult now, had their car fucking vandalized and literally SHOT AT by a bunch of kids. But I can look at those kids in real life, in my town, and I know the families they come from, I know there’s things going on behind closed doors. And yeah, was I pissed? Ofc, actually I was pretty devastated. I worked 7 days a week to buy that car and it was my first. there being reasons doesn’t make their actions okay, but I can also see that here in real life, children are being failed when they’ve barely had a chance at life yet. And Youngblood is really my attempt to humanize these issues and draw light to how we may be failing children. ANYWAY there was my long winded rant. I lost the plot a bit tbh but I could go on about Youngblood 😭

So in short, James in my opinion is not OOC, and ur right he is not weak either, because trauma and mental health issues doesn’t equate to weak. I think you exactly hit the nail on the head and it’s always appreciated when I feel like someone really gets my characters. My James is my James, and he’ll always be so special to me, every single version, because no matter what universe I throw him in, I always know exactly who he is and what makes him that way.

This is so long, I don’t really expect anyone to read this but you (hopefully), but this is just for you anyway <33 I appreciate all your kind words and interesting thoughts and I love how you said it’s interesting that ppl can read the same thing and get something different out of it. Because the amount of times I’ve written something and realized ppl got something entirely different than I’d expect honestly shocks me. And sometimes it’s sad if ppl miss my point, but mostly I think it’s beautiful that we can all interpret things differently.

Hope you have the best week and life is treating you warmly xx

#mere answering things ;)#fic: youngblood

12 notes · View notes

kkbardd · 7 months

Note

hello! i haven’t sent an ask in a while because schoolwork has been piling up infinitely :[ , but your recent posts have been really interesting to me! i really liked the room sketch one, I can’t exactly explain why but there’s something so indescribably human about it. i love spaces that looked lived in, that have personality, and I think that your room (current one? made up? old one?) has done a great job of showing that. and I’m not very good at giving advice— I can hardly follow it myself, but if you don’t know something, don’t know what you want to do, try things. it’s okay if you don’t like them. i recently found out I’m more competent in languages than I thought! i can already read and understand simple sentences in german.

there’s always more to yourself than you’ll know, I think, but the world is kinder than people think. If anything, everyone is still very new at this. we’ve never lived before. do the things you like, branch out, don’t become less of yourself for other people. everything has a place, and my best advice is to treat life as you would a vacation. do all the things you can while you’re here. build a life that makes it worth it. (sorry for the long ask and my rambling, or if this is overstepping in any way. i just read what you wrote and kind of related to it in a way. thank you for continuing to create art, it brings me a lot of joy! :] )

hey isopod!!! thanks for the ask & I wish u good luck with ur school work!

Thank u so much for the compliments, im really glad the vibe of my room was conveyed in those doodles. i absolutely looove drawing my room! It’s extremely small (a renovated utility closet) and just barely fits a bed + my desk but its packed full of the things i love. It’s very lived in and I feel like it reflects my character well.

when i drew that page I was in my senior year of high school and pressures to decide my future were overwhelming. I never thought much about it until then and I didn’t have any idea of what I was going to do. The only thing I felt I had going for me was art but I didn’t want to turn my only hobby into a job I hated. I remember going through a master list of majors on random college websites and one-by-one asking myself if I’d be okay doing it. In the end I had nothing. I was really crushed about it and felt stuck. This was right after the covid quarantine too so focusing in school was difficult & I couldn’t bring myself to apply for scholarships. I started skipping classes, smoking weed, and pushing off my assignments. All of this only made me feel more miserable, of course, so everything seemed pretty bleak at the time.

But luckily I had the support of my family and especially my mother. She would always remind me that “we have option”, “we always have options”. Because I did! This was a fresh start to try my hand at a totally different experience than what I’ve done so far. I ended up choosing my major on a complete whim after hearing my aunt had a job in an adjacent field. I was pretty sure I’d drop out after a semester, yet here I am about to graduate soon & I’m having a ton of fun!! (Hell, I’m 10 hours out in the middle of nowhere right now for my Field Methods class!) It’s not that I had a knack for Geology that I just never tapped into, or that i secretly had a passion for rocks this entire time; I just found something that seemed like an okay fit and grew interest from there. I think that a small level of commitment like that is more than enough to get you going. I had a ton of ideas in my head about how I needed to have a perfect fit major that would connect every dot I’ve laid out in my life thus far, but that’s not true at all. Life is much more messy and unpredictable than that.

But enough of my rambling!! That time of my life may have been stressful but I’m very grateful that I went through it! It changed how I viewed problems and it taught me to always look for other options when everything seems helpless.

Thank u so much for ur encouragement, I really appreciate it <33 I completely agree with everything u said!! Life is an ever changing experience & often leads u in unpredictable directions!

#ask #isopod #I often look back on those sketches (and more that I just haven’t posted)#I find a kind of beauty in it idk how to explain it #teenage angst is just something we all gotta go thru #ranting #we have options

17 notes · View notes

crimefightingpigeons · 4 years

Text

I’ve shared my head canon on how we go from Doomsday to Turn Left - your turn! What do you think happens?? - @loupettes

OK I’ve got no excuse for why this took me so long (other than complete lack of productive brain cells) but heyyy look part 3 is here! And hopefully it was worth the wait??? Anyone wanna place bets as to how long part 4 will take haha? I PROMISE it will happen though because I’m determined to finally finish this fic.

part 1 | part 2

A Brief Guide to Love and Defending the Universe

After a thorough talking to about her reckless actions and a mandated night of sleep (which everyone took advantage of), the team got right back to work with a lot more luck. Apparently the fractures just hadn’t been wide enough to travel through before, and now they were. For the most part, they took this as an absolute blessing and tried their best to ignore its solemn reminder that they only had so much time left.

For efficiency, both Rose and Mickey took on travelling through the cannon while Pete remained on base to keep track of the two. Plus, connecting Rose’s old phone to the mainframe, they had found a way to call the TARDIS’s number to every universe it could connect to, hoping at some point the ship’s owner might just pick up. On a good day, between the three of them, they could reach upwards of a hundred different worlds.

As powerful as the cannon was, though, nothing came as easy as they would have liked. For one thing, there was no way of knowing how close or far they were to their old universe, no way of knowing from this side of any crack where the Doctor was. It was a setback, but not a surprising one. What was even more frustrating, though, was the recharge time needed between jumps.

Most of the time it was extremely horrible just being stuck. All they had to do upon landing was a universal scan for TARDIS tech, wait a few seconds for a negative answer, and then… wait. Maybe if their own world wasn’t collapsing in on itself every day it might have been easier to enjoy, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case and each passing minute of not being able to do anything useful was quite stressful. And that wasn’t even accounting for the added trouble they’d face when they happened to be dropped right in the middle of an unwanted fight or war zone.

Other times, though, it could truthfully be amazing. Sure the entire multiverse was in a constant state of trouble, but sometimes it was nice to land somewhere that just needed a bit of help. Taking down local authoritarian regiments, solving mysterious disappearances, assisting on small scale alien invasions and such. It was just nice to help and feel properly useful. And sometimes it was these small victories that were just enough to get them to continue on through the next day.

Occasionally, though, very rarely, there would be an unexpected surprise waiting for them.

The first time it happened was to Rose. She had been running off from some strange alien hunting her, and just as she found a safe place to hide, there it was: the TARDIS. Her heart stopped and she didn’t believe her eyes. It didn’t make sense… the scanner said he wasn’t here… It wasn’t possible… Her mind was racing frantically, and then the door of the ship opened and… a blonde man with a piece of lettuce attached to his lapel stepped out. It was a man Rose recognized instantly from an album the Doctor had shown her. Except that her version of that Doctor had chosen celery as his accessory of choice… It wasn’t him, not her him anyways. Parallel universe, parallel Doctor. But before she could even think of how to react, the alarm telling her to jump back went off and she chose to go.

A few weeks later, Mickey had his own run in with the Doctor. He nearly didn’t believe Rose when she told him and Pete about seeing him, figured it was just her mind playing tricks on her. But then during one of his jumps, he had quite literally ran into a strange young man wearing a bow tie and tweed jacket.

“Oh, sorry there mate—” the man apologized as they both fell to the ground. Then just as the pair locked eyes, “Mickey?” The man’s smile grew and he excitedly jumped up, pulling Mickey up with him, and took him into a tight embrace. “Oh Mickey Smith! I can’t tell you how good it is to see you!”

Mickey just smiled and hugged him right back. “It’s good to see you too, Doctor.” It didn’t take an idiot to figure out exactly who that man was.

Since then, they both had a handful of other run ins with versions of the Doctor either they knew or who knew them. Most of the time it was alright. Mickey always seemed to enjoy the reunions, but Rose usually did her best to avoid them. Sure she wouldn’t mind a glimpse from afar every so often, but it was also difficult being so close yet so far from her own Doctor. And on the occasions she did run into a version of him who had clearly lost her… well, it wasn’t exactly easy to walk away from those situations. So she simply pushed forward, not letting herself get distracted.

But as time continued on, the team was facing more difficult problems than just running into people they didn’t want to see. If there were any stars left in the sky they were impossible to locate on even the clearest of nights, and the world was getting more scared and angry every day. Even Torchwood had been run down, the population blaming them for not doing more. Rose, Mickey, and Pete all felt even happier that they had decided to keep this project on the down low. Doing what they were trying to do was hard enough on its own, and they couldn’t imagine having to do it while putting up with angry protestors striking chaos.

Still, even with that obstacle out of the way, they couldn’t help but lose a little more hope every day. Some days the basement would be made a mess from a frustrated break down, and they believed no other room in any world had hosted so many nightmares or tears. They all knew they had a few weeks left- at the very most. A few weeks to get through enough of the infinite universes out there to find the right one. A few weeks to sort through whatever problem might be waiting for them on the other side. Every day it became harder to imagine finding real success. And as it turned out, inevitable universal destruction partnered with a lack of optimism and massive burnout wasn’t the motivation they had been looking for.

Pete chose to step back a bit to spend some more time with Jackie and Tony. It felt nearly cruel thinking everything he had just gained in the last few years was about to be snatched from him. And maybe it wasn’t responsible, but he was going to spend whatever time he could with his family.

Meanwhile Rose was simply running out of energy to keep going. After years of pushing and overworking herself, she had started taking the tiniest of steps back as doubt and hopelessness ravaged through her mind. Maybe this was as far as they got, she started to tell herself. Maybe she had been right all those years ago. Maybe without the Doctor she really wasn’t anything special. She remembered her young, naïve self. You don’t just give up. You don’t just let things happen. They felt almost like a stranger’s words now.

Of course if anyone knew that wasn’t true it was Mickey Smith, and he was determined to support her however he could. Most of the time this involved taking on some extra work, to let her have a moment of peace whenever she needed. With his gran gone (which truthfully he was thankful she wasn’t around to experience all this), he certainly had the time. And he knew if it had been Rose in his position, she would do the same for him.

Nowadays time seemed to bleed into itself and the gang never knew exactly when it was (they hoped that was just because of all the work they were doing in a windowless basement, and not a side effect from the whole multiverse ending thing). It felt like a very early morning though, at this particular moment. Pete was probably asleep next to Jackie or watching Tony. Rose was taking a nap on the cot in the corner. And Mickey kept working, taking full advantage of that autopilot function he wasn’t as judgemental at Rose for using anymore. As usual, he encountered failure, after failure, after failure. But he kept going, kept persisting, kept—

*beep beep*

Mickey looked down at his scanner on a planet which seemed to be made entirely of purple rock, a bit startled. His mind went through all the possibilities of what that sound could mean. Low battery? Interference? Surely it couldn’t have been…

But it was! The scanner had received a signal from the TARDIS. Their actual, real TARDIS.

A purely joyful grin spread over Mickey’s face and tears started welling in his eyes. He didn’t know which galaxy, which planet he was on. He didn’t know where Earth was, or wherever the Doctor happened to be at this moment. He didn’t know when he happened to land, 50 years in the past or 2000 years in the future. But none of that was important. Instead he chose to break out into a mad happy dance, hoping in the back of his mind that no alien was around to see him make a fool of himself.

After wearing himself out, Mickey couldn’t help but want to jump back. But then he remembered he still had to wait for his device to repower.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath. 25 minutes to go until he could jump, 25 excruciatingly impossible long minutes.

Finally though, after what really did feel like an eternity, Mickey’s alarm went off and not even a whole second later he jumped back. Once his feet hit the platform in the basement, he looked up to find a still sleeping Rose, prompting his grin to reappear.

“Rose, Rose!” he started calling her name as he stumble-ran towards her. Then crouching down by her side and shaking her, “Rose, wake up!”

“Mmm… wha’ is’t?” Rose shot up, but her mind was still caught in a sleepy haze. Mickey didn’t have the patience to wait for her to finish waking up, though, and started pulling her along.

“Got somethin’ to show you, come on now. Here, take this,” he handed Rose his jump button and helped her onto the platform. Then, running back to the console, he paused for a second to carefully adjust the coordinates and recalibrate the cannon.

“Mickey what’s going on?” Rose asked again, now awake but still completely confused.

Mickey smiled at her once again. “See for yourself, in 3, 2…” and he sent her off.

“Mickey!” Rose tried shouting again, but it was too late. And before she knew it she was thrown into the street of another world. A world which looked a lot like London, Earth at night. Which maybe it was, but surely it wasn’t their old London. Rose wandered down the road a bit, enjoying the wind on her face as much as possible and wondering what Mickey could have possibly wanted her to have seen… then she saw a gathering crowd around the corner. Her attention piqued and she continued on towards it. There was a big building- a corporate office of some sort or another- surrounded by emergency services of every kind. She was in the middle of wondering what could have possibly happened when a red headed woman came up behind her.

“Listen, there’s this woman that’s going to come along. A tall blonde woman called Sylvia. Tell her that bin there, alright? It’ll all make sense. That bin there.”

Rose could tell something good just happened to this woman by her smile alone. For a moment she remembered when she smiled like that, and the one person who could always effortlessly pull it from her. But she pushed it out of her head. She almost wanted to warn that other woman to hold off on her joy, too. If only she knew what was just around the corner for them all. Rose was sure she wouldn’t have such a reason to be celebrating.

With a sigh, Rose decided to walk away. Whatever Mickey had found so interesting about this event had either passed or simply wasn’t getting her attention like it might have any other time. And frankly she wasn’t too invested in helping that Sylvia woman- or whatever her name was- find a bin. So she went off into the dark street, hoping to clear her mind.

But then… something strange started happening. Rose was still walking down the street, but the ground beneath her started to disappear and the world around seemed to fuzz in and out just slightly and there was a weird static-y feeling around her-

And then everything was back to normal. She was back on the same street. At night. With a giant web star in the sky-

Rose’s head jolted back up to notice the very interesting thing that had certainly not been there just a few moments ago. ‘What the hell is going on?’ she thought. But before she could think of any sort of reasonable answer, she saw missiles being launched at whatever it was floating overhead, blowing it up.

On pure instinct, Rose started sprinting towards the source of the shooting. The whole time wondering- praying- that somehow all of this meant exactly what she was hoping it meant. That he was here. Maybe the Doctor had somehow gotten wind of their interdimensional jumping, maybe the TARDIS had picked up on it and alerted him! Maybe that weird moment she had experienced just a moment ago had been the Doctor pulling her back to him! With each breath and dash forward she had to forcefully restrict every ounce of hope in her body from seeping through.

Finally, Rose arrived at the scene. It appeared things had calmed down a bit, but there were still emergency vehicles and men and women in camo uniforms and red berets all around.

“What happened, what did they find?,” she slowed down as she got close to the barriers. There was a woman- a red headed woman. Rose turned to her. “Sorry, but… Did they find someone?”

“I don’t know. Bloke called the Doctor or something.”

“Where is he?”

“They took him away, he’s dead.”

Rose froze. Any thoughts running through her mind just a second ago disappeared and her body filled with a heavy numbness. She could hear the woman still going on behind her, but didn’t register a single word of it.

“…I came so far,” she breathed out.

Finally, though, Rose forced herself back to reality. Her worst fear may have been coming true, but that didn’t stop the rest of the multiverse from imminent destruction. And there was something weird about this world, something off… and something familiar about the voice talking to her. Rose turned around and for the first time since running into her, got an actually good look at who she was talking to. This woman wasn’t just any ordinary woman. It was the same woman who had told her about that bin just a few minutes ago in that crowded street. Something weird was definitely going on. A dead Doctor, this woman showing up twice… with something very odd on her back unlike before…?

“What’s your name?”

“Donna. And you?”

“I’m just… passing by… I shouldn’t even be here. This is wrong. This is so wrong,” she rambled on, more and more of her focus being diverted to whatever was on this woman’s back. “What was it, sorry? Donna what?”

“Why d’you keep looking at my back?”

Rose snapped her eyes away to look anywhere else. The last thing she needed to do was upset the woman who might be able to give her some answers. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You keep looking behind me, you’re doing it now. What is it, what’s there? Did someone….”

But before Donna could finish her sentence and before Rose had any more time to investigate, the world around her started to fuzz back out. And she was gone.

#sorry if its a tad messy #you all know that feeling when you're writing an essay for class and you just get so tired of working on it #that eventually you just say fuck it and send it in for what it is?#basically me rn #ive been spending a couple weeks editing and am still not 100% pleased but I have to say fuck it now or I'll never post it haha #so like its not MESSY messy... just not as completely perfect as I stress myself to make it #but I think thats ok #also just figured out how to do the break line so TA DA!#also I completely forgot I had a legit Tumblr page that isn't just my mobile layout #I mean it sucks cuz I think I put like 2 seconds of effort into it before giving up like 6 years ago but still #anyhowwwwwww #hope you all enjoy!#a brief guide to love and defending the universe #part 3/4 #original fic #rose tyler #mickey smith #Pete tyler #tenxrose #doctor who #dw

7 notes · View notes

ghoulfriendfangs · 3 years

Note

So my friend told me this and I can't get it out of my head, can you pls do hcs or scenarios of AFAB Lucifer whose overworking in the middle of the night and AMAB big(tall) reader like catches him and starts fingering both holes? Im terrible at interpretation 🤣

◆ ◈ Double Trouble (for Staying up Late) ◈ ◆

{wc: ~1200} {top/dom!mc, bottom/sub!Lucifer, amab!mc, afab!Lucifer, light punishment, double penetration, orgasm denial}

Lucifer writes in messy scrawls, no longer caring about maintaining perfect penmanship. Nobody else would see these forms, anyway, they were only for his own record keeping. After the incident at the alchemy lab last Thursday, Lucifer had been drowning in paperwork and records. Much of the lab had to be replaced, including two of the walls. He groaned, rubbing his temples. He was mostly just thankful that you hadn’t been caught up in the mess.

You…

When you were with him, he always flew through his paperwork faster. He had chalked it up to the calming presence you had on him, it made Lucifer stress less about the minor details, and let him breeze through the never ending bog of bureaucracy. Or maybe you just enticed him to hurry up and finish his work, so you’d praise him and you could indulge in his newfound free time.

But you weren’t here right now, and you wouldn’t be free until tomorrow, because you had promised Asmodeus that you’d help him break the record for the world’s longest makeup stream on Devilgram. Lucifer couldn’t pretend to understand why you two would want to spend hours upon hours applying make up, but he understood that it would make Asmo very happy. So he encouraged you not to worry about him, and when you made him promise to be in bed by 10:00 pm, he agreed.

But he wasn’t.

When the clock chimed 10, Lucifer rubbed his eyes. He’d only completed half of the necessary work, he could work five more minutes and then go to bed.

When you came to check on him before you yourself went to bed, it was past midnight. He was writing as if in a trance, eyes darkened with exhaustion and a little bit of irritation.

“Lucifer?”

He jumped, leaving a splotch of ink.

“What are you doing up! It’s past midnight, you’ll feel tired tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, mister ‘I’ll be in bed by ten?’ And I was helping Asmo, remember? You on the other hand…” you shook your head. “What will I ever do with you?”

He frowns, lowering his head in as much of a pout as his pride will allow. “Its not as though I was being purposefully disobedient, I merely did not feel tired enough to sleep. Rather than toss and turn, I thought I would do something more productive until I was tired,” he huffed. His eyes were baggy, and he suppressed a yawn.

“Oh, then you aren’t tired right now?” You ask, knowing fully well he was.

“No, I could go another five minutes at least.”

You sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Lucifer? Maybe I should tire you out myself.”

He smirked, “now my love, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head. “Then are you asking me to help you?”

“I am.” When you first caught him, he was afraid that you’d be disappointed in him though he’d rather fly across the Devildom than admit that but now that he felt assured you weren’t actually upset… he felt comfortable enough to ask;

“Shouldn’t I be punished for breaking a direct order?”

“Order?” You shake your head. “It’s hardly an order, love, I just wanted you to sleep!”

He pouts again, narrowing his eyes. “It wasn’t an order…?”

You catch on, “alright then, it was most definitely an order… and you broke it big time?”

He smiles, “yes, and you have my deepest apologies, master,” he bows.

“Hmm… apologies are great, but you should still be punished for such disobedience. You can start by bowing lower-“

You walk around the table, running your hands up his back and suddenly pushing him into his desk. He grunts in surprise, but quickly caps his ink and moves aside the paperwork so he can focus on his punishment. In a flash, he lets out his wings, which are folded tightly. You continue rubbing his back, forcing the poor, stressed little demon to relax for once in his life. His wings wiggle, shaking out and flapping far more freely.

You start undoing his pants, gently slipping them down his legs. He obediently lifts each foot for you, and you fold his pants, tossing them aside. His shimmied movements catch your attention, and you realize he’s sticking his ass out further for you, wiggling things back and forth. There’s a small wet spot forming.

“Impatient,” you coo, grasping the sides of his waist and squeezing roughly. He gasps, going up on his toes and arching his back for you, inviting more of your touch. “You’re such a needy little birdie.”

He doesn’t verbally respond to your praise, but he buries his face in the crook of his elbow, surely a blushing mess. You smirk, hooking a finger under the waistband of his underwear and dragging them down.

His entrance pulses, dripping with his own arousals.

“Don’t tease me,” he begs, “just start.”

You run your fingers over his pussy, ending at his clit which you stroke before moving away. You spread him open with two fingers on your right hand, using your thumb to rub over his clit as you slip in one finger. Finding that he’s already aroused enough for two, you quickly adapt.

He gasps, a shiver running through his body. He lets you work his entrance for a few minutes before he has to ask,

“This doesn’t feel like much of a punishment, don’t you think?”

“No. It doesn’t,” you purr. You gather up his juices… and carefully push a finger into his ass.

He gasps, pushing against you. “That’s good,” he admits, three of your fingers rubbing against all the best spots. He’s dripping wet, allowing himself to open up fully to you. It’s not hard to slip another finger into his asshole, with how pliant he’s being.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Lucifer is moaning, clutching the edges of the desk and whimpering. You keep stroking at his holes, roughly massaging his prostate and g spot. He gasps, and even allows a little drool to escape. It’s been ten minutes, and yet he’s already an utter mess. He’ll blame it on the sleep deprivation.

“Are you ready to cum?”

He nods desperately. “Y-yes, yes master, please, I’m ready to cum..”

You hook your fingers, pressing into his favorite spots and roughly picking up the pace, causing little moans and gasps to escape him, he begins to beg for release…

…and you pull out.

“Put them back!” He growls, digging his nails into the desk, “finish me off right now!”

“Tsk tsk. You’re being a bad little boy again.”

His eyes widen, and he clears his throat. “My… my apologies, master. Now please, may I cum?”

“No.”

“…no?”

“Wouldn’t this be an unsuitable punishment if I allowed you to cum at your own request?”

“A-ah…! I… suppose you are right…” his wings flutter in impatience, “but is there truly nothing I can do to redeem myself, master?”

“Yes.”

He looks at you, holding his tongue even as the anticipation is burning.

“You can come with me to bed, and we’ll finish this there.”

#obey me #Lucifer #bottom lucifer #sub lucifer #top mc #dom mc #amab mc #afab Lucifer #dp #obey me spice #spice #Lucifer x reader #Lucifer x mc

580 notes · View notes

witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

109 notes · View notes

reflectionsofneptune · 4 years

Text

little things about the Mars Signs

18+

little, dreamy things I associate with sex and the Mars signs in Astrology.

Aries Mars

Rawness. A strong grip. Tugging a lock of hair when it gets too much. A thin line between pain and pleasure. Nails scratching down a back because of frustration. A build up. Taunts. Deliberately causing arguments because make-up sex with you feels so good. Will you take the bait? Sex feeling new each time. A fast rhythm. Confidence. Advancing towards you. Feeling protective over you. An urge to KO anyone who looks at you for more than 2 seconds. Warrior urges instigated. Persistence got me this far in life, let me show you how it works for me.

Taurus Mars

Pressure. A slow burning warmth that licks up the body. We have all the time in the world. Every part of the body exposed to a kiss, a touch, a breath of air. Flickering of orange flames in a fireplace. A feeling of pure, unabashed sensuality when naked. Coolness of air which brushes the hairs on the back of the neck. Rooted in sexual energy. Slow and steady wins the race. Scented massages. Starting at the base of the neck. Feeling strength. Resilience. Flavoured condoms. Drunk on your love. How is it possible you taste sweeter every time? The smooth column of the throat. The shadows a sunset causes dancing. Seduction is like art to me, let me paint you a masterpiece.

Gemini Mars

Curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat had nine lives. Opening up to try different things. Trying to do too many things at once. Falling on the floor so we stay there. A combination of arms and legs. Head cocked to one side. Observing you from a different angle. Slanted eyes. A feeling of pressure that’s quick but growing in acuteness. Busy hands. Roaming fingers. Lights on or off it doesn’t matter. I can still picture you. In my mind. With my eyes closed. You’re a permanent imprint on my psyche. My desire resides on the mental plane. Whispering all the things I want to do to you. Biting an ear lobe. Wanting to learn about every inch of your body. Tell me your fantasies and watch how fast I bring it to you in real time.

Cancer Mars

Baby. But I can take control. It depends how I feel. An emotionally charged touch. Hearts in sync. A vivid imagination. Role-playing. Wearing that outfit I know has that effect on you. Playing coy. If I’m feeling sad, I might insist we stay wrapped in each other’s arms, just for a while. Is that OK? A stormy kind of desire. Waking up to kisses. Not wanting to sleep because this moment is all I ever dreamed of. This feels like home. Checking in with you. A sensitive kind of love. Hold me tight. So tight I can’t breathe. Only then will it feel right. TLC. Crying before, during and after sex. I can’t help it. A sudden wave of desire, greedy in nature. Strong feelings of lust. My fervour for you is bottomless, this is but a small representation of its total expression.

Leo Mars

Doing it in the mirror so I can show you how beautiful you look. Don’t be shy. Rose petals on the bed. Even more rose petals on the floor. I wanna perform for you. An effortless performance, start to finish. This is what you signed up for. Let me deliver my end of the deal. Pride in the bedroom. Forgetting about past lovers. At the moment of release, saying my name soothes the lion inside that bares it’s teeth when you’re underneath me. Aggression. Feeling royal together. Round one barely took the edge off. Leaving my mark on you. The bedroom feels like a hunting ground. Running isn’t an option. Pleasure in all its forms. Can you tame the beast?

Virgo Mars

Acting reserved in public but it’s a different story behind closed doors. Who knew? Not afraid to get dirty with you. Voyuerism. Less stress. Surrendering to pleasure and not feeling guilty for it. Peace with the imperfection of this ritual. Perfection out of the window. Lust making a direct entrance, front and centre. Tasting you. And then kissing you. Tasting us. Fresh sheets. Getting equally turned on watching you get dressed vs watching you get undressed. When we’re done, cleaning you as an act of service. Submission. A routine that brings order to a chaotic life. If I tell you how crucial this is to my well-being, will you look down on me?

Libra Mars

Fluid. Fluidity in our movements. You first, then me. Close your eyes if you like. There’s no rush. I like being here with you. Who said romance was dead? Wants and desires expressed with you in mind. Sleepy sex. In the throes of passion, you still look like a masterpiece. Can’t get enough. Delicate petals of a rose. Instinctively knowing how to get you off. Licking my lips. And then licking you down there. Playing with you with finesse. How does this feel? Dressing up, just for you. A breathy sigh released in the crook of the neck. Scented candles. Not knowing where each other begins and ends. Not caring. A true union of souls. Sharing this helps me to forget about inner turmoil, if only for a little while.

Scorpio Mars

Enticement. Pupils full and unblinking. Space between us lasts for a second. Who are we kidding? Sharing oxygen. Sucking on your bottom lip. Eyes on me. That’s not a request. Wanting to watch you fall apart. A wet trail left by a tongue. Those kind of toys. Do you trust me? Show me how much. Fingers pressed into the skin, hard. A ghostly handprint flashes on the surface of the skin for a heartbeat. Teeth tease the throb of a pulse point. Blood rushing. Be brave enough to discover the intensity of my feelings and be sucked under. Only to rise up in levels in consciousness on a spiritual plane. Love is transformational. I’m willing to show you what you do to me. Don’t run.

Sagittarius Mars

Free rein. Sex with the possibility of being exposed. Down for whatever. Bluntness. Desires expressed with no shame. A finger over the lips. Playing to win. Feeling energised when rolling around the sheets. Nothing is off limits. Fantasies coming true. No strings attached. Watch me do you. Laughter as foreplay. Relax with me. You may have tried this position before but with me it’s different. Let’s get physical. A work out. Kissing you to muffle your screams. Messy hair. Messy sheets. How did this end up in the bed? Mundane details of life losing their importance when we’re together. Feeling the strength coursing through the thighs. I would risk getting caught with you.

Capricorn Mars

A hand on your waist in public, a hand on your throat in secret. Trust me, it feels better when you wait. Limits pushed. Burning up. Debauchery. I won’t tell. It’s our little secret. Experience is a turn on. Standards are a turn on. A sense of control. Mastery. I know this game in and out. Sex is all about power at the end of the day. Soft bristles of a whip, barely brushing the spine. I know how to do this with my eyes closed. How do you feel about blindfolds? Vulnerability. Replaying these moments we share in inappropriate places. Seductive e-mails. Legs pressed tightly together. Having power over you is an accolade I hold close to my heart, not something I take for granted.

Aquarius Mars

Electric. Electricity when our fingers touch. Permission to be one’s free, authentic self. A non-judgement zone. Non-physical forms of affection. I’m open to trying something new with you. Inviting other people into the picture but only you can make me feel this way. Incorporating technology to add a new flavour. Feeling closer to you in group sex. Conversations intermingling within the very act of sex. Noses brushing against each other faintly. Deep eye-contact feels orgasmic. Hearing soft vibrations in the air before you feel it. Swirling galaxies. My thoughts are consumed by you nowadays, but I’m OK with that.

Pisces Mars

Altered states of consciousness. The bliss that comes when feeling wholly accepted. Complete adoration. Eyes locked. A desire to merge together. Skinny-dipping under the cloak of the night. Who cares if we get caught. No restrictions. A transcendent experience. Artistic nudes. A photo album on my phone. Dedicated to you. Boundaries teased. Biting my lip to control myself but failing. Kisses on the forehead. Reverence. I can morph into whoever you want me to. Kissing you, but my eyes are open. Moments of silence. Desires expressed without words. The sweetest dreams. Every time feels like a little death, only to be reborn again.

| little thoughts about the mercury placements

| little thoughts about the venus placements

| little thoughts about the saturn placements

#astrology #mine #mars #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #astro #zodiac signs #zodiac #astrology observation #thoughts

3K notes · View notes

flower-cage · 4 years

Text

Hold Back

Tom Holland x Reader | smut & fluff (18+ only)

Summary: Tom’s shooting a movie and you can’t stop bruising him during sex.

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, daddy kink, slight slut shaming, unprotected sex, light spanking, light choking.

A/N: My first writing received a lot more notes than I ever expected, so I felt motivated to write another smutty oneshot. Enjoy.

There were few things you could perceive beyond the maddening pleasure you got from Tom plunging himself in and out of your throbbing core: the thumping of the headboard against the wall, his dirty whispers of want against the shell of your ear, your shared wetness dripping down your thighs. Beyond that, your mind was hazy with arousal only, like it always was when you had him inside you.

You had been at it for such a long time, it had to have been at least forty minutes since he had finally entered you. He was pounding deep into you with long, hard thrusts that shook the bed and took your breath away. There was nothing you loved more than having Tom inside you, chasing your orgasms with desperation.

When he hiked up one of your legs on his shoulder and angled himself to thrust even faster into your sweet, sweet spot, you couldn’t help but throw your head back and moan. Loudly.

“Yeah, baby?” Tom breathed out against your jaw, where he was sucking wet kisses into your skin. “Feeling good?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned at Tom’s enticing words. His rhythm never faltering, moving harshly and desperately into you.

“And you’re gonna come for Daddy like the good little slut you are?” Tom asked gruffly from behind gritted teeth. “You gonna wet my cock, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Your eyes rolled back as every single one of Tom’s thrusts had the thick head of his cock plunging right up against your most pleasurable spot. Relentlessly.

“Oh, Daddy, yes!” You positively yelled as your pleasure took over you forcefully. You threw your head back again and sank your nails into the flesh of your boyfriend’s back, dragging them down his shoulder blades as you convulsed in absolute pleasure around his thick length. Still, he plunged into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned and slammed a fist against the mattress next to your head at the burning sensation on his back muscles. After two more rough thrusts, he came inside you, riding out your orgasms in a few final, sloppy strokes. He dropped some of his weight on you, trying to catch his breath on your bare shoulder. You pulled him by his messy curls to meet your lips in a lazy make-out, your tongues sliding against each other without purpose.

“Well, good morning, darling,” Tom murmured against your lips, smiling. You chuckled and scratched his head, played with his hair while giving his warm lips some more little kisses.

“Does it count as morning if the sun hasn’t come up yet?” You looked and pouted at the window, where the moonlight still seeped in through the sheer white curtains.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to wake up with me.”

He had to be up most days at four in the morning so he could be at the studio by five, go to makeup, dressing, and then warm up all before seven, when filming started. Most days, he would stay until at least seven at night, other days he’d be back in the afternoon or wouldn’t be back until eleven. So you wanted to make sure you could spend some time with him in the morning, have sex and breakfast and send him off to work happy and energized.

“I know,” you said and turned to look into his sleepy brown eyes again, “And it’s totally worth it.”

He grinned at you lovingly and pecked your lips one last time before dropping himself onto the mattress beside you.

“Damn,” he winced. “You did quite a number on my back, darling,” he said, turning over and propping himself on his elbows to avoid the contact. You blushed in embarrassment at his words. It hadn’t happened voluntarily. You had been completely lost in pleasure and it just… happened.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered.

“It’s fine,” he grinned at you. “It turns me on.” He winked at you cheekily and you bit down a wide smile trying to break through your lips. One more of those and you would jump at him for round two.

“So,” he started and brushed back some of the hair falling on your face, “do you want to join me in the shower or go back to sleep, my darling?”

Instead of answering, you wrapped your limbs around him. He grinned and supported your thighs at his waist when he rose from the bed, heading toward the bathroom. Round two it is.

—

“There’s nowhere to go. And there’s no way they won’t catch us in the next five minutes if we just stand here!”

“There’s just one thing left to try.” Tom gasped out, both of them trying to regain their breaths. He looked at the river determinedly and tugged his heavy sweatshirt off his body, then his shoes. He swung his arms back and stepped back, preparing to jump.

“Cut!” Tom heard the director’s callout. He looked back at the crew, confused. He wondered if he had said his line wrong.

“Can we get someone from makeup over here?” The director called again, chuckling. In fact, the entire crew was either smiling or chuckling.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked, turning to face the director fully with a frown.

“Woah!” His co-star exclaimed suddenly, so he faced him instead. “Did you have a good night, Holland?”

Tom just stared at him confusedly and tilted his head to the side.

“Your back?”

“My… back?” Tom repeated slowly. What about my back? He reached behind him to feel for whatever it was that had stopped production and winced. Oh. His eyebrows shot up and he blushed furiously.

“I’m so sorry!” He gasped at the director, who just waved him off, laughing.

“It’s fine,” he said, “just take it easy from now on.”

Tom nodded, still blushing, and tried to not flinch away as a makeup artist painted over claw marks that were undoubtedly bright red down the expanse of his back.

—

“Tommy!” You yelped as he shoved his thick length within the wet, sensitive lips between your thighs. And then you gasped as a hand came down on your bare skin.

“Try that again,” he practically growled in your ear.

“Daddy…” You whined, burying your fingers in his hair and your face in the crook of his neck.

“Good girl,” he purred and started thrusting into you slowly. You gasped and melted into him, surrendering yourself to the delicious strokes against your inner walls. Your skin lit on fire and goosebumps emerged all over its surface every time Tom pulled back from your sweet spot.

He had come home earlier that day. The sun was still out and he wasted no time taking your hand in his and leading you out to the pool for a swim. A swim which turned into a hot makeout in the jacuzzi as the weather got chilly with sundown, and then into steamy, desperate sex against the wall in the living room. Your bodies still dripping, still hot from arousal and from the hot tub, wet hair sticking everywhere on your face and chest.

Tom had you propped up against the wall with a grip on the crook of your knee, leg raised high up and pushed back. He thrust into you steadily, strong movements of his hips hiking you up each time and gradually driving you to the edge. Your toes barely grazed the marble floor as he supported you on his cock alone, his tip slamming against that spot inside you that sent you into overdrive again and again and again.

“Such a perfect pussy, baby,” he groaned against your lips in between passionate kisses. “You took me so well in the morning I kept thinking about it all day.” You whined at his words as they brought you that much closer to unraveling for him.

“And now you’re taking it again. So. Good.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts and your eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open in a string of loud moans, nails starting to sink into his shoulders.

“Wait, baby,” he said, panting in exertion and not daring to lose the rhythm he had built up.

He knew you were close. And he knew those claws were about to sear into his skin again any time now. He hooked your leg over his arm, ripped both your hands off his back, and slammed them against the wall above your head. The shift in position drove him deeper into you and you both moaned, his pounding not faltering for a single second, his pelvis rutting against your clit and adding to your pleasure with every drag.

He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and thrust in once, and then one more time before you came together, moaning and whining against each other’s tongues. You thrashed in his hold as your pleasure coursed through you in long, electrifying waves. His grip on you tightening just short of painful as he emptied himself inside you, deep into your sensitive cunt.

“God, I love you,” Tom panted in awe and kissed you passionately, messily. He slipped out of you and slowly lowered your leg, mindful of the stress the position exerted on your hip. He rubbed it lovingly, then let go of your wrists and rubbed those too.

“I thought you liked it when I scratched your back?” You pouted at him when he released your lips.

“I love it,” he said in between raggedy breaths, “but today I kinda got called out at work for it.”

Your chin dropped. Your face flushed in dreadful embarrassment. You didn’t know which was worse: that you had interfered with his work or that everyone he worked with knew he had absolutely railed you that morning.

“Oh, my God,” you gasped, “Tom, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I messed up your job!”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “Hey, everything’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t mess up anything. It’s my fault for not letting you know sooner. Okay?”

You nodded sheepishly and he pulled you off the wall by your hand and guided you to your shared bedroom. Once there, you wiped away the mess between your legs and sat at the edge of your bed.

“I honestly don’t know how I’m going to hold myself back.” You mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear you. But he did.

“What?” He chuckled. “How come?” He looked at you over his shoulder from where he stood in your walk-in closet. He pulled a pair of boxers up his legs and walked over to you with panties and one of his t-shirts in hand. He knelt in front of you and proceeded to slip the underwear up your smooth legs, placing a few loving kisses on the way.

“I just-,” You sighed and placed your hands on his shoulders, sliding them up and caressing his neck and his perfect jaw. “You love me so good, Tommy. I just lose my mind. Literally.”

He smiled at you smugly. He leaned in to kiss you, his tongue sliding against yours just right.

“Don’t say stuff like that, darling,” he said when you broke apart. “We already had sex three times today. You’re gonna kill me.”

You chuckled and pulled him into a big cuddle, where you stayed for a couple of minutes, snuggling and stealing little kisses before he pulled back.

“Besides,” he stated smugly, “I’m sure we can figure out a way to keep these claws at bay.”

—

Except you didn’t. No matter what you did, what you tried, sex in the next few days ended with Tom having to pull you away or hold you down to keep you from bruising him.

You had tried several different positions where you wouldn’t be able to scratch down his back. When you were on top, you sank your nails in his chest. Reverse cowgirl? Nails into his thighs. If he held your wrists down, you sank your teeth into his shoulder or his neck.

“I don’t want to have to tie you up every time we make love, baby.” Tom had mumbled against the back of your neck sleepily one night when you cuddled on the sofa.

“We can just do doggy,” you mumbled back.

He sighed and snuggled closer to you. You smiled privately when you felt his excitement growing in his pants, poking you on your lower back.

“Every time, though?” He whined. “I like it when you hold me. And I like kissing you and looking into your beautiful eyes.”

A smile split on your face with the love you felt for him. You tilted your head to meet his lips and that’s how you tested sideways sex. He had to pull your head back by your hair at the very last moment. You had nearly sunk your teeth into his jaw.

At the moment, he had you bent over the arm of the sofa and propped on your elbows. His body was flush against your back and his strong arms wrapped around you, reached forward to hold your hands in his. He was fucking you so slowly, so deeply, so lovingly. He was touching everywhere inside, dragging against your throbbing walls and then holding his engorged tip flush against your sweetest spot for a few seconds. Each time barely leaving your heat before sliding all the way in again with maddening rotating movements of his hips. Your legs spread, shaking in arousal, allowed for constant stimulation on your clit as it pressed against the leathery cushions.

Tom had pushed all your hair to one side so he could whisper words of love and press kisses against your flushed skin. Every touch and every murmur from his lips made your heart grow bigger and your pleasure settle intensely at the pit of your belly.

“I love you so much, my princess,” Tom purred to the side of your neck. “You feel so good. God, Y/N, I love you.”

“Love you, Tommy,” you whined. “You make me feel so good.”

“I’m so close,” he grunted and sped up his movements slightly, “Want you to come with me, baby. Can you come for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “I’m close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Tom asked and quickened his harsh thrusts. The sounds of your skin slapping together took over the space around you.

“Yes!” You cried as he slammed onto your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh- Tom, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. He didn’t stop until you were both taken over the edge, grinding roughly onto each other as you rode the waves of your orgasms and sloppily made out with his hand on your throat and your head tilted back.

Tom slipped out of you when his excitement went down and flipped you over gently. He kissed you deeply for a couple of minutes and you basked in the love he poured into it. You ran your hands through his hair and all over his back to take in his warmth, his love, his presence.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Tom murmured multiple times in between soft, intimate kisses that made you chuckle.

“I love you too,” you whispered, “so much.”

He smiled at you and when he raised a hand to brush away the hair sticking to your forehead, you saw angry red marks on his arm.

“On, no,” you gasped. “Tom, I did it again. I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled and shushed you with yet another kiss.

“I don’t care anymore,” he said, “they can just cover it up with makeup.” He cupped your face and ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “I want you to be able to express your love. Don’t hold back, baby”

#tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb

749 notes · View notes

opalescient · 4 years

Text

haikyuu fic recs — the most beautiful, lovely, breathtaking masterlist (vol. I)

so i’ve been binging fics to cure my sadness, and i thought that these select masterpieces were too magnificent to not be plastered on every billboard ever. some tore my soul into shreds, while others melted said shreds back whole, but all of them made me feel some form of sheer, unadulterated love, so. please enjoy! 🥰⛅️✨

note: all of these fics are exquisite and you should read all of them, but if you’re short of time, those with ☆ are my all-time favourites!

daisuga

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya ☆ | T

Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate.

i lovelovelove how all the concepts tied in together like a perfectly wrapped gift

also very wholesome, made me feel so inexplicably warm. like, love can exist everywhere!!! despite everything!!! that’s just so inspiring

i revisited this many times, i think it was (one of) my first haikyuu fics and honestly. it set the bar so high and i have no regrets

you’d fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder ☆ | G

“Oh. You're. Not Asahi.”

Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide.

“Not as far as I know, no.”

Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

major, major fluff

the buildup!!!

god this made my yearning for love so much worse

the perfect stranger by downmoon | T

There’s a man standing outside Suga's door.

Scratch that. Start over.

There’s a man he doesn’t know standing outside his door, holding his sleeping nephew in one arm, with another kid clinging tightly to his free hand.

so domestic please read the entire series from start to finish it has my whole heart

shoyou and tobio as their actual kids 🥺

these two parents are so in love it makes me wanna cry

asanoya

silica sand by lilien passe ☆ | G

Overworked, over-stressed programmer Azumane Asahi works on the top floor of a Shinjuku skyscraper. Nervous around his coworkers and terrified of the long drop on the other side of the window, Asahi falls into a miserable routine, only to have it broken one day by a simple message on the outside of the glass.

PLEASE. so well-written it makes my heart glow and ache simultaneously

made me ascend into asanoya heaven

such a brilliantly unique concept i love it A+

qué syrah syrah by loudlucy | M

Asahi wants to be a Master Sommelier. It's the highest honor in wine service, and the certification would allow him to live the life he's always envisioned for himself. Too bad the certification test is notorious for being the world's most difficult.

Most people fail their first time taking the exam, and Asahi is no exception, but he has more difficulty than most dusting himself off and getting back on his feet. Enter Nishinoya, a young man who shares his same dream, and who believes in their goals so fiercely it forces Asahi to embark on a delicious and sensuous journey of viticulture and validation.

AKA The Wine Tasting AU that literally no one even knew to ask for.

NOTE: You Do Not Need to Know About Wine to Understand This Fic!

another super unique concept!!! (´∀｀=)

my god their chemistry is amazing

the writing made me feel things ngl

stop my bones from wondering by cerasi ☆ | T

After graduation, Asahi hides from the world and needs help from a few sources to find his way back.

i want to write sonnets and sing ballads for this fic, it’s that beautiful

as always, Top Notch Writing *chef’s kiss*

no but i seriously... can i kiss the author? asking for a friend 😳👉🏼👈🏼

iwaoi

star-crossed by starlitcities | T

“I never thought I’d see the day that I’d envy a human,” Oikawa admits, showering himself in tiny suns, because he can actually feels those, like a fusillade of warm kisses on luminous skin that leave marks. To humans, they’d be freckles. Skin stars, Oikawa calls them. He didn’t make that up, a human did.

“Who created the rule that we can’t touch, I wonder,” Iwaizumi ponders, floating heedlessly through space.

“Maybe it’s because we can fly. Humans dream of flying, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

gsjsgsjshsjshsjsj star!iwaoi

they’re LITERALLY STARS

beautifulbeautifulbeautiful i love how the author conveyed the beauty of touch and humanity 🥺🥺

please bless yourself further with the sequel sun-kissed

conquering the great king by suggestivescribe ☆| E

Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, "Last time was supposed to be a one time thing," he said, voice low, lacking some conviction.

Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

yes.

in fact, this entire series (breaking the rules) features daisuga, kuroken, asanoya and it’s SO GOOD. every single one.

but anyway, character development!!!!! plot!!!!!!!!! writing!!!!!!!! i’m here for it all

tsukkiyama

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon ☆ | M

Kei realizes in their second year of high school that he��s probably been in love with Yamaguchi since they were ten. However hopeless he might be in handling that situation, Kei prays he’s at least not as hopeless as Hinata and Kageyama. But he just might be.

SO BEAUTIFUL

i am also a sucker for anything with stars, moons and all the love in between

no words to describe this work of art please just go read it and be blessed

under the lilac tree by raewrites | G

there’s a lilac tree in Kei’s backyard.

gorgeous in its simplicity

softtsukkisofttsukkisofttsukki

not as grandiose as the rest but the love written into every word, action and character is absolutely show-stopping

kagehina

saffron and cayenne pepper by dontsaycrazy ☆ | T

Cooking is hard. Even if you have your very attractive, very grumpy neighbor there to help you.

In which Hinata's lack of cooking skills are a danger to him and others. Luckily (or not), Kageyama is willing to teach him, if only for the sake of avoiding any burned down apartments.

the essence of their characters were captured so well and yet it’s like they’re completely new characters too? author, whoever you are, you totally owned this

this made me ship kagehina so hard

fluff! cuteness! lots and lots of cooing!

kuroken

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony ☆ | T

soulmate

/ˈsəʊlmeɪt/ • noun

A person who was made from the same star as you.

// Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives.

ahhh here it is. beautiful, heartbreaking, soul-emptying agony. you want angst? choke on this, and your tears later on.

no but seriously please read this if you haven’t you won’t regret it at all i promise

written from kenma’s perspective so you experience every depth and multitude of emotion he does and it’s so raw and- brb imma go cry for a sec

knot in my heart by hearthope | T

There’s a picture. Kenma blinks, looking at the little calico cat, being held up next to the face of a guy with stupidly messy hair and a crooked grin.

Cute.

The— the cat. The cat is cute.

Just the cat.

Kuroo starts spending a lot of time at the flower shop Kenma works at. Kenma definitely isn't into him.

okay so i like it when authors unravel a normally stoic character’s full scope of emotion and give them depth, sue me.

anyway, back on the fluff train!

i absolutely f*ck with flower symbolisms, cats and bitchy best friends who have dirt on each other. the layers of romance, friendship and everything in between is so prettily developed 10/10

bokuaka

the jacket you never returned by daisuga ☆☆ | G

He leaned over, kissed Bokuto on the cheek, and smiled bitterly, eyes watery.

He will never remember. Not now, not ever.

What they were will now forever be forgotten.

"You used to call me Keiji, Koutarou."

YOU USED TO CALL ME KEIJI, KOUTAROU!!!!!!!!!!

i beg you to listen to Spiegel im Spiegel when it’s first mentioned in the story please

i read this and screamed through my tears for a solid 1.5 hours. i rarely cry.

no f*ckin regrets though i read this thrice already and it hurts so good every time

rules by conesofdunshire ☆☆ | E

In which Akaashi Keiji is an overworked accountant who stumbles upon Bokuto one night playing the piano in the lobby of his work. Bokuto is different, that much is obvious. But with such supreme musical talent and a smile so dazzling it rivals the sun, there's just something about him that brings Akaashi back every night.

this fic. this fic has my whole, broken, sobbing heart and laughing soul

gorgeous. breathtaking. magnificent.

bokuto is so WARM and akaashi is so STRONG and they both find the solace they need in each other and it’s all i want for me 😭😭😭

in another life by littleluxray | T

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

this is a famous fic that i doubt any seasoned haikyuu reader wouldn’t know, and RIGHTLY SO BECAUSE, the PAIN. the pain. the pain.

i could feel my lungs shrivel up and my chest cave in on itself. fatigue and rest are things i struggle with too so this whole story resonated with me from start to finish, and it broke me. in like, the best, most revitalising way

i would read this again but it still haunts me at night. i need to heal from the first time before i have the guts to try one more time HAHAHA 😆💔😭

tea-stained polaroids by dalyeau | G

“I'm gonna date that,” Bokuto declares solemnly, and Kuroo throws a plastic spoon at his head.

mmmmmmm pretty photographer + personalised coffee cups + cute baristas = diabetic fluff fic

i smiled so much throughout this you have no idea. cheeks achey but so good

i may have squealed a little at the ending

kurotsukki

moonfall by batman | T

There is no unlearning Tetsurou, after all. There is only leaving him.

(Five things of Tetsurou's that ended up in Kei's home, and one that never left.)

the writing!!!!!! is pure beauty!!!! sheer grace!!!!!!! the construction of the AU and the romanticism and hsjsgsjshsj

didn’t cry but. heart ache and bittersweet smiles are another level of misery that is just as fulfilling

yea just pleasepleasepleaseplease go read it thank you and have a good day

hidden gem by realmSpinner | E

Things get complicated when everything you thought you knew about a guy changes, and they get even more complicated when you actually start liking those changes.

That guy working with you AND becoming your neighbor? That's just a cherry on top of the cake of confusion.

this AU was refreshingly different, and amazingly so

top!tsukki??? sign me the f*ck up

the whole plot, man. perfection.

pings by barfs ☆☆ | T

[5/02/16, 3:50:17 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Please wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:50:23 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I hate begging. You know I hate it.

[5/02/16, 3:50:34 AM] Tsukishima Kei: I bet you’re snickering at that, wherever you are.

[5/02/16, 3:50:53 AM] Tsukishima Kei: But, it keeps hurting and I don’t know why and it feels like shit and I know you could tell me why, but you’re not here and I would really appreciate it if you’d just wake up.

[5/02/16, 3:51:02 AM] Tsukishima Kei: You’re laughing at that too, aren’t you.

[5/02/16, 3:51:10 AM] Tsukishima Kei: Dying is probably up there in the list of top ten shitty things you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot of shitty things.

god.

you already know what’s coming, and yet. when it comes.

how the f*ck did the author make grief beautiful????????? (at the expense of me dying along with kei and everyone else i guess)

this fic will ruin you and bury you under all your pain (i hope you’re ready)

but also put you back together with the “sequel”

kyouhaba

close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl | T

It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he's different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba's journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

cause i’m (not) alright with the slow, burn~

no fr, take slow and burn very seriously

overthinking yahaba? i understand. i do.

again, such an amazing fic; 10/10 recommend

safe here by crossbelladonna ☆ | M

“Raids are routine work,” Kyoutani tells to Yahaba before he can air the question. “Sometimes there is no sleep done until we accomplish something, say kill a certain ghoul. I guess they’re still going through the possibility that people in the accident are still alive huh?”

Yahaba quirks a smile, pushing his mask up his head.

“You’re alive.”

Kyoutani looks at him intently and all of the things that they’ve gone through for the past month seems to flash in his mind.

“Yes I am.”

i haven’t watched tokyo ghoul but i understood everything perfectly. such is the power of f*cking kickass writing

*cue ugly crying and a lot of unresolved angst*

like the grief??????? ruin me please thank you 🙏 (i think i’m a little masochistic)

rare pairs

mannequin men by surveycorpsjean ☆ | M

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tuskishima]

The modelling world is full of hungry wolves, constantly clambering over the other, snarling and desperate. They fight, and they kill, trampling over anything in their path.

In this case, Akaashi fell in love with the wolves.

i did not expect this to be good, and it wasn’t. it was SPLENDID.

akaashi is so enamoured with them from the get go i love it

a tiny bit of angst that stabbed me in the heart, but the happy ending soothed it (thankfully, because if there wasn’t one i will sue)

characterisation, writing, plot development; everything is great. can you tell i’m running out of synonyms for ‘beautiful’

feel like gold by heronfem ☆☆ | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/kenma]

In which Kenma is unapologetic and comfortable with who he is, Akaashi learns a lot about himself in a short period of time, Kuroo is wildly in love and an eternal survivor, and Bokuto remembers that love doesn't cure mental illness, but having a support system sure helps a lot.

Or, the one where 4 young men get together, and are helplessly, hopelessly, utterly in love despite everything.

e.e. cummings?? poetry??? f*ck yes

so beautiful. i’m so star-struck by this fic it’s simply stunning

there are no words to fully capture how worth your time and heart and mind reading this fic is so please. do yourself a favour, and fall in love with this fic with me

the sky and guilt are the only feelings i have left by oopsthisisqueertoo ☆☆ | not rated

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo]

Akaashi is at his wits end. He feels nothing. He's quickly crumbling as a human being. He wants nothing but sweet release of death. In his fourth year of college he drafts a plan for his suicide. He is to graduate, publish writing for others to be inspired by, and slip quietly away. Shortly after, he meets a dog walker named Bokuto who asks him out and Akaashi reluctantly agrees. Nothing matters anymore and he treats Bokuto like an obligation. Until he's not anymore.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPTS & DEPRESSION

this was... this gutted me entirely and filled my body with too many shades of agony

arguably one of the best haikyuu fics i’ve ever read

so beautiful in the most painful way fathomable; strongly recommend

april to may by surveycorpsjean | T

[bokuto/akaashi/kuroo/tsukishima]

They're an odd family.

The four of them? Parents?

But still, they're a family.

So they'll support each other until the end.

aaahhhhh third gym as parents 🥺

so much fluff. i also love april and may

they’re still so in love there’s love in every millimetre of this fic :”)

that’s it for now! i’ll add more if i come across anymore good fics. i hope you enjoyed this list! if you have any requests/fic recs, or if u just wanna chat, feel free to just ask! hehe 🥰 k aight bye~

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #fic rec #beautiful #writing #ao3 fanfic #daisuga #kuroken #bokuaka #tsukkiyama #kagehina #third gym #iwaoi #fic #reference #hq

200 notes · View notes

ilovebeingcalledawhore · 3 years

Text

Content: fluff

Summary: When two teenagers meet at their highschool’s pool, they form a connection with the same love and longing for the sea and at some point they just find themselves falling in love, quite literally.

Pools, indoor swimming pools.

The moment I found out my highschool had indoor swimming pools at the back part of the gym, I was immediately won over. Swimmers trained early in the morning but the pools were left open but no student ever bothered to actually hang in there except for me.

After school, I get tutoring from teachers ‘till seven pm. Right before I go home I walk to the pools and just sit there. I watch the moonlight hitting the water.

Most of the time I stare at myself, maybe dip my fingers into the water.

It was the perfect place to rest. In there, I felt like nothing else mattered. I’d even call it a sanctuary. It was a safe place to run when all else breaks down.

Pausing the music playing through my earphones. I shove my phone into my bag and push the big grey gym door open.

Empty, as usual.

I walk through the dark and quiet basketball court - my eyes lighting up at the sight of the pool shown through its clear glass entrance door. Pushing it open, I sigh in satisfaction as the smell entered my nose.

I loved this place.

I was quietly walking when all of a sudden, “who are you?”

“Ahhh!” I scream, completely startled by the voice of whoever was in there. I start looking around and see a boy sitting by the pools edge. He had dark messy hair and the school uniform on. His pants were rolled up ending just above his knees so it wouldn’t get wet meanwhile his feet up to his shin were underwater.

“I’m gonna leave,” I mutter and I hear him chuckle as a response. “You’re already here, might as well stay.” He speaks softly and something about his voice attracted me. Though it took me a few seconds to finally agree, I sat at the other side of the pool. My legs crossed but my fingers dipped in the water

It was quiet but something about the silence was comforting, it didn’t feel awkward, it felt like being around an old friend. Clearing my throat to cut the silence, I start the converstaion with words that were on the tip of my tongue. “I’ve never seen you here before,” I speak, looking up to observe the way he replies. A half-hearted grin appears on his lips and he says, “I just found out about this yesterday and I needed it.”

My eyebrows furrow, how do you need a pool? I thought to myself - ‘till I remembered why I was here all along. “You needed it?” I asked and he nodded, finally looking up making your eyes meet. I felt my heart gradually start racing but I try to ignore it. “Yes, the beaches have been locked away and I needed water.” His reply made my heart swell because I felt the exact same way.

Beaches have been locked out ‘cause there was too much trash in them. The government finally took action and started a cleaning movement but volunteers weren’t allowed. They wanted the world to ignore it while they hid away the problems. I sighed in empathy, “I’m Y/n,” I say - our eyes connecting once more. “I’m Mark, Mark Lee.”

The very next day, I found myself walking back to the pools but this time with the slight hope of the mysterious boy to be there. Pushing the glass door open, I immediately look around but see no one. My heart drops in disappointment but I push the feeling away. I walked back to my spot, this time dipping my feet in. I didn’t have any problems ‘cause I was wearing the school’s skirt.

Taking out the small black speaker from my bag, I connect it to my phone and start playing my favourite song. I sigh in satisfaction, I felt good. Today wasn’t a stressful day, it was calm and went by smoothly - I was definitely in a great mood.

As I start to hum with the music mindlessly, I kept staring at the moonlight hitting the edges of the pool and little sparkle it made with the water, it was pretty. Everything was quiet and calm when all of a sudden I hear the same familiar voice from yesterday but this time, he was singing along to the song.

I yelped, completely startled by his sudden presence.

I turned around and saw him rolling the hem of his pants so he can dip his feet into the water. “You scared me!” I whisper and he smiled as a response. That was the first time I saw him give a genuine smile - and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel some type of way.

He finally dips his feet into the water and starts singing along to the music once more. I just sat there and admired him and his voice. He looked good under that moonlight but I was too shy to say it out loud, even admit to it. So I look away distracting myself, waiting for the song to end.

Then it did.

“You sing good,” I compliment him and he scratches the nape of his neck shyly.

A month has passed and the safe haven was now a habit. Even on nights when I’m told to come home early, I always find a way to come to the pools. Even for a minute, even for a few seconds, most of the time not for the water but for him.

In all honesty if I had to label him as anything, it’d be a human diary. He knows much more than my friends who I’ve been with for a year. I don’t know what it is about it but, telling your secrets to a stranger feels much more comforting.

At this point we know each others favourite colour, movie, song, artist. What we want to be when we grow up - what we don’t want to be when we grow up. What type of person we want to fall in love with - if were even in love with ourselves. Does he think aliens are real? How ‘bout mermaids? I know his dreams, goals, secrets, trauma, his biggest fear and his greatest regret and in equality, he knows mine.

Though I hate to admit to it, he makes my days. His presence, his voice, his thoughts - it came to the point where I don’t want to sleep anymore ‘cause for the first time reality was better.

Smiling to myself as I quietly walked through the gym to get to the pools. I push the door open but freeze, my hands still on the metal handle of the door. I heard sniffling and sobbing. At that very moment my heart dropped. If I were to expect anything it wasn’t this.

“Mark...” I whisper, but the whisper was enough to echo through the room in it’s silence. Finally walking in, I shut the door and quickly walking towards the pool. The image broke my heart. He sat there, his legs crossed together - not dipped in the water like I’m used to. “What’s wrong?” My brows furrow as I walked towards him.

He continued to sob into his hands, biting his lip to silence himself. But when he finally put his hands down, the tears running down his face made me sit next to him and hug him without hesitation. We’ve never been this close, only ever sitting across each other on different sides of the pool. He melts into me, his head going into the crook of my neck but this time, he started crying some more; not loudly but silently.

The tears just continued to roll down onto my shirt making me sigh in empathy.

Like I always do when my friends cry, I rub their heads in comfort. “It’ll get better,” I whisper and he nods into me. I look down to see if he’s calmed down but right when I do, our eyes meet. I give him a little smile, wiping the last tear that ran down his cheek.

We just sat there, our eyes connected somehow healing each other quietly. Taking in deep breaths, I continue to caress his face. When I cried, it was something my mom did to comfort me. “You feel better?” I ask and he looks away. “Yeah,” he whispers as he looks down and observes our other hand interlocked with each others. Something even I didn’t notice.

Mindlessly looking around, him still in your arms, you notice a small black bug atleast three meters away from you. “Oh my god,” you mutter, eyes getting wide and heartbeat racing as it crawled fast and closer towards you. “Ah!” You scream, frantically moving around but not making much progress ‘cause of the boy laying on you. “Mark there’s a bug!” You scream.

He turns around and sees the bug almost a meter away and he panics too. In all that movement you found yourselves with no other option but the pool. Panickly falling in you, you drag the boy with you.

“Ahhh!”

It was a split second underwater until you rose up again to take in air. As you did, you didn’t realise that the boy was so close to you, it was only until you calmed down that you felt his breath hit your lips. Smiling in amusement as you looked at each others state, you laugh in disbelief, observing your now extremely wet uniform.

“Mom’s gonna kill me,” you mutter to yourself but he chuckles to it. Slowly, you feel one of his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer leaving no space in between your bodies. His other hands crawls up your arm, to your neck, to your chin making you face him.

Silence.

Hearts racing.

Hearts synching.

Seconds later his lips were on yours. His teeth bites into your lower lip drawing you closer. Your eyes widen in realisation, making you pull away gently. “What?” You ask, bewildered but not complaining. “No questions, just kiss me.” He replies and your breath hitches as he makes your legs wrap around his waist. “Kiss me,” he says again and without anymore hesitation, you do.

Bodies tangled.

Wet and messy hair.

Eyes shut.

Lips locked.

You fell in love, quite literally.

75 notes · View notes

ly-canthropewrites · 4 years

Text

Gentle Mornings

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 1,636

Rating: SFW, Fluff

Summary: Mornings with Walter are dreamy and something special.

A/N: Thank you to @yespolkadotkitty for beta’ing the first half of it for me!

“You left me alone in bed,” you hear a voice accuse you.

The gruffness of the voice makes you look up, an involuntary smile stretching across your lips as you watch Walter shift towards you, drowsiness making his movements sluggish and it is evident that he has only just woken up himself.

“How long have you been up for?” he questions.

You accept the soft kiss that is pressed to the crown of your head.

“A while. I couldn’t sleep,”.

Walter glances at his watch, noting it is a sharp six a.m. and by the two large stacks of documents situated on either side of you, you’ve been up before dawn rose. You look cozy. Legs protected by a thick pair of sweatpants and his enormous dressing gown smothers you whole. Fluffy socks adorn your usually cold feet.

Despite your attempts at keeping warm, the dull pallor of your exposed hands reveal how much the chilly winter is affecting you.

“Come sit with me,” you beg, tilting your head up to give him a pleading look.

He is happy to obey, still sleepy himself and the couch is a comfortable enough substitute for bed. You shift your documents and place your computer to the side, resting it upon the broad armrest of the lounge to free up space for your husband.

Before settling himself down, Walter snags the two blankets that sit at home on the end of the couch, draping the thickest one over your legs before crawling onto the couch. Wordlessly, he lays his head upon your lap, your soft thighs his favourite pillow. The second blanket is used to cover himself as he cuddles in deep.

He misses your adoring smile above him but feels your gentle fingers tangle in his unruly curls. Walter moans quietly, eyes fluttering closed and his weight rests heavily as he relaxes. Silently, you play with the darkened locks. Alternating between twirling the soft strands around your fingertips and combing your fingers through his mop of hair. The zephyrous ministrations easily seduce Walter into a warm doze, balancing the fine line between wakefulness and slumber. He feels warm, loved, adored.

Just when you think he has fallen asleep, he startles you by capturing one of your hands. Your arm is pliant as he brings your frozen extremity to his mouth, brushing his lips against your palm. His hand entirely encompasses yours and between the natural heat of him and the heat of his lips, your hand becomes toasty and perfused.

He adores on your hand for long moments, smothering every inch of your skin in whispering kisses, the burn of his beard leaving electricity in its wake. You giggle when he travels to your pulse point, layering kisses upon your radial heart beat. He can feel the strong thumping against his lips, tattooing the beat on his mouth and he leaves a wet, open mouthed kiss before releasing your wrist.

The house is silent around you as the world slowly wakes up and is bathed in golden light. Walter slowly falls asleep in your lap as you turn back to your work, the positioning now slightly awkward with everything shifted to your left but you don’t dare disturb your husband. He deserves his rest.

The comforting weight of Walter sleeping upon you helps you focus on your work, no possible distractions having the chance to arise since you fear waking the sleeping lieutenant. It ends up being a productive hour, one pile of documents now much larger than it’s counterpart and you’ve managed to untangle the messy ringlets of bed hair that Walter has not even bothered to comb this morning.

Abruptly, Walter stiffens in his sleep, stretching his muscular body across the entirety of the couch before exhaling deeply, twisting onto his back and groans whilst he sprawls into a more comfortable position. You chuckle softly, amusedly shaking your head and instinctively, you reach out and run your thumb along the minor stress lines that marr his forehead. The job has aged him, you muse sadly. Faint frown lines decorate his face, in the same way, his chest displays the multitude of honour medals when he stands at attention during ceremonies.

He shifts again, a heavy sigh being released as Walter reaches up and rubs the palm of his hand across his face. A lazy yawn and furrowed eyebrows follows the motion. He is mesmerising, even in the sleepy and languid morning.

“Morning handsome,” you greet, voice melodious with affection.

He tilts his head back, ear following the sweetness of your voice and he hums blissfully, lips parting slightly and he relishes in the honeyed tone of your tenderness. Drowsily, he cracks open his eyes, blinking away the last tendrils of lethargy.

“How long have I been asleep?” Walter huskily questions, grunting as he heaves himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch and slouches forward, chin resting in the cup of his hands as he yawns one last time.

“An hour or so, you must have been tired,”.

He glances over to you, observing how you have completed a large chunk of your work and that there is a lack of cups sitting close by.

“Coffee,” is all the broad man says before he rises to his feet and ambles into the kitchen.

You titter as he passes by and quickly use the time to stretch out your legs, sighing delightfully as the blood rushes back to the lower limbs. The familiar and abrasive coffee grinder erupts to life from the kitchen and not long after, the tantalising aroma of nutty caffeine reaches the living room. Your husband emerges with two large mugs in his hands, stern eyes trained on the prize as he steadily walks towards you, determined to not spill a single, precious drop. You have him well-trained as he automatically deposits the steamy cup on the marble-patterned coaster that is situated on the arm of the couch. His own mug is placed on the nearby coffee-table, an action you frown at because Lieutenant Marshall loves his coffee just as much as you, but you are pleasantly surprised when he turns to you. There is a soft look of adoration visible in his azure eyes and he stands before you, a strong, calloused hand presses against your cheek and his thumb delicately strokes the apple of your cheek.

You nuzzle into his palm, eyes crinkling in the corners as you gaze up at Walter, a besotted smile dancing across your lips. He leans down, nudging his nose against yours and gently, he manipulates your head to the side, allowing him the perfect access to his true desire. He kisses you softly, at first his lips barely brush against yours, as light as summer rain and just long enough that he could grasp the addictive taste of your lip balm, drawing him back for more.

The second pass of his lips is firmer, the sensual hint of his tongue running along the seam of your lips and you moan. It gives Walter the opportunity to delve into your mouth, guiding the languid kiss and you fall pliant beneath his talented lips. His tongue sweeps across the moist space, the bristles of his beard scratching deliciously against your skin as you bury your hand in his curls, holding him against you as you get lost in the passionate sensation. He lazily draws back, sucking slightly on your tongue before pulling away completely, only a beady strand of saliva connecting you both.

Unable to stray for long, he returns to your swollen lips, nibbling at the delectable tissue and soothes the abused skin with a subtle peck. You feel mildly lightheaded, so enrapt in the pleasure Walter subdues you with that you forgot to breathe. You snicker, sucking in a lungful of oxygen and Walter watches you, bemused.

“Does my kissing entertain you, pretty girl?” He teases, hiding his exuberance and breathlessness better than you as he draws himself to his full height and retrieves his coffee mug.

It takes you a few seconds to rein in your giggles, shaking your head to give a non-verbal response until you compose yourself.

“No, no - I was just thinking that was one hell of a morning kiss,”.

Walter chuckles alongside you, taking a long draw of the liquid caffeine and sits beside you.

“I can’t blame myself, wife, I can barely control myself around you,”.

You tilt your head in his direction, crooking an eyebrow as you make eye contact with him. Innocently, Walter takes another drag of coffee and rests an enormous hand on your knee, the heat of his palm burning through the thick dressing gown and causes a burst of goose pimples across your skin. You titter, fondly smiling as you turn back to your own work, absentmindedly reaching for your own mug and the hazelnut taste explodes across your tastebuds.

The joyful atmosphere remains, even though you both fall into your own activities. Walter doesn’t turn the television on, not daring to disturb your focus and instead, he skims through the local news web-page, catching up on the world he missed while he slept. Every now and then, he runs across a random snapshot and he has to show you, despite the distraction. He knows how much you love watching the videos of adorable dog antics, and the silvery sound of your laughter makes him want to find another video you’d appreciate - just so he can hear that blessed sound one more time.

It is rare for Walter to have a gentle morning like this, these types of periods dotted few and far between his chaotically messy work hours, but then again, that is why he values them so much - because they are just as sacred as his love for you.

Tagging Henry Cavill (ie. people I interact with from my main blog):

@solariumss @littlefreya @toomanystoriessolittletime @viking-raider @jaskierhastwohands @yoursecretsmutblog @mrsaugustwalker @lovely-cryptid @onlyhenrys @oddsnendsfanfics @angelic-kisses13 @thethirstyarchive @ladyreapermc @henchry @deathonyourtongue @promptandpros @meowpurrbooks @musings-sans-muse @sideh0e @supersweetstache @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @the-winter-witcher @evnscvll @chamomilebottom @dancingwendigo @peakygroupie @princess-of-riviaa @ohjules @radaofrivia @ellixthea @suueeeeeee @henrythickcavill @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @wondersofdreaming @dearlybelovedluke @demivampirew @nuns-and-roses @iloveyouyen @luclittlepond @cinebration @agirllovespasta @havenoffandoms @girl-next-door-writes @shellbilee @inber @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @queen-sands @magdelen69 @laketaj24 @yespolkadotkitty

674 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Wanna Ride?

Description: [Request: Hi!I love your writing style and I wondered if you could write something with Biker!Woozi in it♡] A lil fluff, sweet one shot of the day time when you surprise Woozi by asking to go for a ride when you aren’t usually the one to do so. But Woozi knows the perfect place to take you. Warnings: Swearing (like once) Genre: FLUFF, Biker!Woozi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Woozi." I drag out his name as I walk out of my room looking for him.

"I'm here." He calls back from the living room.

As I reach the living room, I finish putting my hair up in a low ponytail. "Whatcha doin'?" I sweetly ask, tucking my hands behind my back and rocking on my feet.

Woozi glances at me, caution in his eyes, "Just watching the game. Why?"

"So, you're not busy?" I ask, double checking.

"I mean not really." Woozi shrugs, still cautiously answering my questions, not sure where they're leading.

"Would you... want to maybe go for a ride?" I twist my body, dipping into my cutesy side a little.

Woozi stares and just blinks at me. "You. Want to go for a ride." He points a finger at me in shock.

I shrug, "Yeah. I thought it'd be fun and since it's fall, the trees are super pretty." I explain, dragging out the 'super' for emphasis.

"Is everything okay?" He suddenly questions me.

Now it's my turn to be confused. "Yeah, everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be?"

"You never ask to go for a ride unless you're stressed or something's wrong." Woozi lays out his thinking.

I bob my head from side to side, "Well, you're not wrong there but this time I swear everything's fine. I just really wanna go for a ride."

A smile breaks out onto his face and he turns off the TV. "Well, you know I'll never say no to taking a ride with you." He stands and grabs his leather jacket that's hanging off the couch armrest.

I readjust my purse and straighten my own leather jacket. Woozi tosses me my helmet before picking up his own. As we walk outside together, Woozi has his arm wrapped happily around my waist.

"Where should we go?" Woozi asks, when we enter the parking area, heading straight for his motorcycle.

I shrug, "Anywhere you want. Wherever will be prettiest."

"Wherever's prettiest..." Woozi trails off in thought, "I think I know a route."

The afternoon sun's heat is offset by the gently breeze that blows past. Woozi graciously opens up a small compartment for me to place my purse in. Slipping the helmet over my head, I wait for Woozi to plant himself on the bike before sliding in behind him.

"Are you ready?" Woozi asks over his shoulder.

I wrap my arms securely around his waist, "Yupp!"

And with that, the engine erupts to life. The rumble drowns out all other noise and my entire body begins to buzz with the vibrations.

Woozi pulls out of the little parking spot and we head out to the road. We pass through some of the city before Woozi makes an unexpected turn leading out of town. Leaving the security of the city makes me tighten my grip on Woozi. I feel him chuckle in response and then he speeds up.

'Fucker.' I mentally curse at him but soon we start passing more and more trees that grab my attention.

The reds, yellows, and oranges fly by in a blur yet I can see individual branches if I focus hard enough. I straighten my back to get a better view of the forest of trees we seem to be cutting through. I peek over Woozi's shoulder and for as far as I can, a tarred road cuts straight through the trees. It's like something from a movie. And I'm serious.

The sun is starting to reach the tops of the trees, the sky is cloudless, the wind pulls on my jacket, and every tree begs for my attention with their vibrant colors.

"Oh my god." I say out loud in awe.

In one of the rearview mirrors, I catch Woozi smiling and though he can't see me, I smile too.

Spotted between the bunches of red, orange, and yellow sit bright green pine trees ready to welcome the winter snow. Some of the trees haven't yet started turning but it makes the scenery all the better.

The road begins to wind upwards and Woozi masterfully handles each and every curve with care. The colors following us as the road takes us higher and higher.

Every tree captivates me and the rumble of the motorcycle engine is a constant reminder that I'm not dreaming. A nice reminder for memories like this.

We slow as we reach a park at the top of the hill and within minutes, Woozi has us parked and the engine turns silent.

I take in a deep breath as the sounds of the real world fill my ears.

"Is this pretty enough?" Woozi asks, standing and slipping off his helmet. He shakes out his hair and I find myself staring for a few seconds because, well, he's hot when he does that.

I slip off my helmet and pull my messy hair out of its ponytail. "It's beautiful." I glance around at the trees. Some up here have lost a substantial amount of leaves and as another breeze blows by, the fallen leaves play tag with each other.

After setting our helmets on the seat of Woozi's bike, we walk hand in hand to a look out point where we're greeted with a mosaic of fall trees stretching down and out from the hill.

"It looks like someone did one of those paintings with the paint filled balloons. But on the trees." I breath out, still in awe at nature.

"It is spectacular." Woozi agrees then kisses my temple. "You sure everything's okay?" He asks.

I look at him with a smile, "Yeah, everything's great. I think I'm just starting to understand why you love riding so much."

"Maybe one day, I'll get you to drive one." Woozi wishfully thinks.

"Keep dreaming." I crush the thought in a second and he laughs out loud.

Woozi sighs and moves to rest his arms over my shoulders from behind. The wind blows around us and the rustle of leaves is a nice harmony to the birds singing their song.

"How about we ride for a bit more and then go grab some dinner at that burger place you've been wanting to try out?" Woozi suggests after the sun has dipped lower in the sky.

"A burger sounds great." I close my eyes, thinking of the wondrous meal, "And can we get shakes too?"

"It wouldn't be a complete burger meal with them, would it?" Woozi responds with a question and a playfully grin.

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen woozi imagine #seventeen woozi #woozi imagine #woozi #jihoon imagine #lee jihoon imagine #lee jihoon #seventeen jihoon #seventeen jihoon imagine

57 notes · View notes

alolowrites · 4 years

Text

Late Night Visitor

Summary: A mysterious stranger visits your balcony and accidentally leaves behind a priceless jewelry that they stole from a museum.

Author’s Note: I’m pleased to share the next story for @bnhabookclub Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Crime AU” It took a while getting this done because of work stress and having slight writer’s block (plus I kept changing the story’s direction). But really, it was because of how stressed/tired I’ve been the past few weeks. So, really sorry if it took forever posting another story.

It’s also my first time writing for Hawks, so hopefully I did him justice! He was the first character that popped up when working with this prompt. Please enjoy!!

Word Count: 2.3K+

“Ah! Hot, hot!”

Well, isn’t this just great? Nothing like accidentally burning your tongue during dinner to remind yourself how impatient you are—damn hunger. One hand flails to cool down your mouth. Steam dances above the hearty bowl of curry rice, the sweet smell of caramelized onions greeting your nose with a soft kiss. Bless the local 7-11 markets for selling quick and easy meals.

You sit criss-cross applesauce on the fluffy gray rug and scroll through social media for the millionth time. It’s been a slow weekend as yesterday’s news is recycled for today’s news. A random show plays on the television, but you don’t pay attention to the white noise. All your focus is on the phone, yet you still reach for another bite from your meal. How the rug stays clean during dinner nights at home is a complete mystery.

Sipping on your drink, you spare a glance at the balcony and do a double-take—a stranger is crouching outside. You choke, “Oh shit!”

Without thinking, you scurry behind the gray couch, not caring if the rug becomes messy. Your pounding heart is like a concert bass drum which echoes around the small apartment. The sound drowns out the show’s mindlessly chatter. Frightened eyes peek around the corner, and you whip back in full regret.

The person is still outside. Their back is facing toward the balcony door, and they are wearing a form-fitting black hoodie. Hands search for your phone, but they come up empty. Panic finally settles in when you realize it’s on the coffee table. Great, you moan as your head softly hits against the furniture—is the door even locked?

You’re faced with a dilemma: Do you stay out of sight until the stranger leaves or risk being seen while getting help? After much deliberation, you swallow a hard pill and growl at the ceiling, “If I’m doing this, I better not die!”

You’re like a soldier crawling through the mud with a drill sergeant yelling down your neck. You snatch the phone off the table, but make the mistake of looking up at the sliding door. Everything comes to a screeching halt as curious gold eyes stare into your timid ones. The mysterious visitor becomes more intimidating thanks to the balaclava mask—it covers the lower half of their face.

The intense staring contest last for an eternity. You nearly rip off the loose strands on your rug when the stranger approaches closer; they stop when you back away. Taking pity on you, they jump over the balcony and disappear into the quiet night.

A sense of relief washes over you.

Who knows what could have happened to you? Maybe your mom was right about learning some self-defense; the pepper spray is not enough. As you stand and dust off your pants, a shiny light catches your attention; it’s coming from outside. You go against your better judgment and tiptoe toward the balcony.

Your jaw immediately falls to the floor when you spot an exquisite ruby pendant. A sparkling round diamond sits above the bright red gemstone, a slight tint of purple hue lurking underneath. Even the platinum metal chain carries an air of luxury. It’s as if the gods carefully hand-crafted this entire jewelry themselves. In short, it is simple but elegant.

Sliding the door, you wonder if this is some kind of trap. After checking your surroundings, you swiftly pick up the accessory and snort, “Thank you for making me feel poor.”

Fingers glide along the gemstone’s perfect curves as you gaze at the sleeping neighborhood. Your mind goes wild: Who was the person with those haunting golden eyes? Why did they come to your balcony? And why in the world did they leave behind a beautiful masterpiece?

You have so many questions but very few answers.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“So, you didn’t call the police?”

“Um…no…?”

“And why not?”

“It was a mixture of being both scared and stupid.”

“Oh my—” Fuyumi pinches the bridge of her nose. You twiddle your fingers like a guilty child and sink further into the booth. Fuyumi had her suspicions when you texted her to meet up at the usual coffee shop near your apartment. It’s your go-to place whenever you’ve done something questionable, which is ninety-nine percent of the time. Plus, the café whips up the perfect batch of castella—her favorite pastry.

Customers stroll in and out of the coffee shop as piano music plays softly in the background. Roasted coffee beans linger in the air, tempting your nose with its delicious aroma. Out of habit, you push the castella closer to Fuyumi as if that would help soften the blow. She exhales, “Next time, please call the police.”

“Yes, mother,” you mumble much to Fuyumi’s displeasure, but she lets it slide. With the worst over, you bounce straight up and tap the table with an air of excitement. “Oh! Here’s the best part though, besides surviving a break-in—”

“The person was outside your balcony.”

“—close enough, but not really the point, okay?” Fuyumi rolls her eyes, and you fish out your phone to show her a picture. She takes a closer look as you ramble off. “Anyway, my late-night visitor left behind this gorgeous pendant! Why they were carrying this around is beyond me, and so carelessly too. I’m no jeweler, but I’m pretty sure those stones are worth a fortune—still beautiful, though.”

“Yeah, and stolen!” The white-haired teacher hisses. You blink, wholly baffled at her extreme reaction. Fuyumi whips out her iPhone with two fingers flying above the screen. She shoves it toward you, your eyes skimming through the article. The news delivers a sharp slap across your face as the realization sinks in.

Oh no…

Fuyumi bites her lip, “It’s The Grand Droplet, a priceless heirloom rumored to offer infinite life and prosperity. Police are saying the notorious thief, Hawks, stole the pendant last night from the Yutaka Jewelry Museum.” A few seconds later, she adds, “You have the pendant—”

“Shhhhhh!” A hand attacks her arm, your panicked eyes wandering around the coffee shop as if your cover got blown. No one turns their heads, but you shoot an annoyed glare at Fuyumi. “Why don’t you say it louder? I don’t think the barista heard you!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just,” she grips the table’s edge and leans closer, “This is serious! You have to bring the pendant to the authorities. See, this is exactly why you should have called the police last night! The longer you wait, the more guilty you look. Maybe you’ll even become an accomplice to the crime.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Sorry…”

You dramatically groan into your hands, “Why did this happen to me?! When I said I wanted to live like Larry, I didn’t mean this!”

“I know,” Fuyumi pats your head and sneaks a bite of her delicious treat; her phone chimes beside you. She checks the message before flashing an apologetic stare. “Listen, I have to take care of something with my family, but I hate to leave you like this.”

“No, it’s okay. I can handle this myself,” you pathetically convince her. “I’m sure nothing bad will happen, knock on wood—”

“The table is metal.”

“I said what I said!” Your fist aggressively pounds the table, scaring off some customers. A mother hastily pushes her child away from the chaotic scene. You calm down and sigh, “I promise to call you if I’m in danger, okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod before whispering, “Sorry, table.”

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

The walk back home is anything but relaxing. You are on high alert, throwing suspicious glances at anyone coming too close to you. They could be undercover cops waiting to ambush you and interrogate your poor soul for hours until the necklace reappears.

But I didn’t do anything! I’m a good noodle!

You sigh as the key unlocks the door, your shoes flying off by the entrance. Fortunately, you hid the pendant in a safe place. All you want to do is get rid of this jewelry; it brings nothing but trouble.

Marching down the hallway, you grumble under your breath, “Stupid Hawks, and his stupid stealing habits.”

Everyone knows about the infamous Hawks. He strikes when one least expects him to, and somehow successfully evades capture after every heist. But Hawks always leaves behind his signature red feather as a little present for authorities—it never fails to rile them up. Hopefully, the cops show some mercy when you explain what happened. Maybe you should work on your puppy dog look before heading downtown, which might help you score a few sympathy points.

You find the burgundy jewelry box sitting on the closet’s top shelf and breathe a sigh of relief—the pendant is still inside. Not wasting precious time, you close the lid and exit your room. A soft click makes you freeze.

Standing by the balcony door is Hawks, who wears a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. His ashy blonde hair is lazily slicked back, a few strands sticking here and there like no tomorrow. Surprisingly, he lowers the balaclava mask and flashes a boyish grin, “‘Bout time you came home! I was getting bored out there.”

“How did you—wait, never mind. You break into high-security places to steal things for a living,” you say, shifting the jewelry box onto your right grip. “Listen, as much as I would like to stay and chit-chat, my day is fully booked. Can’t really cancel on these people, ya know?” You slowly tiptoe backward, an awkward laugh ringing through the air. “Let’s do a rain check; I’m free next week. Okay? Okay! See ya—“

“Hold it!” You halt on his order, a curse slipping out your mouth. Hawks strides across the floor, and you clutch the box closer to your chest. You feel as though your feet are glued to the ground, the nerves growing stronger once Hawks stands only a few feet away. He crosses his arms and nods at the box, “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing special, really.”

“Can I take a look?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because I don’t want to, that’s why,” you childishly snap and send him a dismissive wave. “Now, shoo! You’re wasting my precious time.”

Hawks chuckles at your feisty attitude. He finds this whole ordeal extremely amusing. You know who he is, you know of his reputation just like everyone else in Japan. And yet, you keep on swinging like a boxer with your witty responses. Still, he has a job to finish. “I’m not leaving until you give me that pendant.”

“Well, I hope you’re paying for half the rent because there’s no way in hell I’m giving it to you, Mr. Thief.” Two seconds later, you add, “Besides, it’s not even yours!”

“It’s not yours either.”

“Oh!” You give him a fake laugh, pointing one finger at your chest. “So the thief is criticizing me for having something that’s not mine? How rich.”

“You’re lucky I find you cute, but,” Hawks dangerously invades your personal space without giving you a chance to stop him. From far away, he doesn’t appear tall. However, Hawks somehow towers over you, which makes you involuntarily squeak. A wicked glint shines through his golden eyes as he studies your unique facial features. You suddenly forget to breathe when his eyes glance at your lips—damn him.

Hawks plucks the box from your loose grip. The hypnotic spell comes crashing down, and you loudly snarl, “Hey! Give it back!”

“Sorry, Dove,” Hawks keeps you at arm’s length, his gloved hand giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he smirks, “I got a buyer who’s willing to pay a hefty price for this beauty. Of course, you are way more stunning, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

“Quit charming me!” You’re a blushing mess now and throw a pillow at him; he easily dodges it much to your dismay. Hawks’ cackles bounce off the wall, which makes you scowl. His fingers slide the balcony door open, and he tastes sweet freedom.

“Farewell, Dove!”

You have a deja vu moment when Hawks jumps over the edge. Your legs rush outside, and eyes frantically search the streets, but it’s no use—the thief is long gone. One hand slaps your forehead as you stupidly let him get away with the jewel. Feeling like a deflated balloon, you whip out your phone and make a quick call.

“Fuyumi…yeah, the pendant got stolen again.”

Stupid thief.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

You collapse on the couch with as much grace as an inexperienced dancer who steps on people’s toes. Work left you exhausted, but you’re glad it’s almost the weekend. You’ll definitely sleep in and have a lazy day on Sunday. It’s what you deserve after meeting tight deadlines and also talking to the police about Hawks.

Fortunately, they do not blame you for anything, much to your relief. It’s been about a week since Hawks broke into your apartment to steal back the Grand Droplet. Police have no luck locating him; they believe the thief is lying low until it’s safe enough for him to strike again. Where exactly is anyone’s guess.

A knock disrupts your thoughts.

It comes from the balcony, and you jump to your feet. No one is outside, although a flash of red catches your eye. Lo and behold, it’s Hawks’ signature feather with a small note attached. Oh, how lovely, you think before snatching the gift off the floor. Your pet name is affectionately written across the paper. You hate yourself for finding Hawks’ calligraphy impressive, but proceed to read the note.

Sorry for cutting our convo short—had a deal to close. No hard feelings, though, right? If anything, I’ll make it up to you, Dove. Besides, you still owe me that rain check.

See ya soon!

-H

You don’t bother biting back your smile.

Guess you’ll be seeing Fuyumi at the coffee shop again.

Fourth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Cuddles

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks imagine #bnha hawks #keigo takami #bnhabookclub #hero camp bingo #crime au

124 notes · View notes

amsrober02-blog · 3 years

Text

When I Can’t See Past Today

I was speaking with someone the other day about stress. She mentioned to me that I don’t ever seem to be stressed out even though I have so much to worry about. I laughed because I knew that wasn’t entirely true, but I also knew that she was right on many levels. My friend stared longingly for an answer to her rhetorical question as if she was saying, “Help me.” I wanted to, but it wasn’t an answer that would solve her problems. I wanted to hold her tight and tell her that I knew how she felt and that I was her not long ago. I wish I had a quick fix for the life she was obviously drowning in.

It’s no secret that it’s hard to live in our world today. No matter how you live, you’re being judged by someone or yourself. No matter what you say, you’re wrong. No matter how much planning you do, you’re likely to fail somewhere. There are so many options, so many gray areas, so many things that don’t make sense anymore. So many ways to mess up.

Not too long ago, I was living a very different life than I live today. I was a control freak, a planner, and I had worrying down to a science. I loved each day with fire under me- pushing me through my day hoping to get it all right and live this perfect life that I envisioned myself having. I hoped to control my job, my kids, my husband, myself, and hopefully any innocent bystander that crossed my path. I had perfected the ability to clinch my teeth so hard at night that when I woke up, my jaw would lock. I was amazing at screaming at everyone loud enough and often enough that they had learned to tune me out. I was amazing at completely freaking out when my well laid plans failed (even if it wasn’t life-altering). Oh, and I was really good at being completely miserable 90% of the time and pretending I had it all together. Sound familiar?

Well, two years ago in November of 2019, my world literally flipped upside down, inside out, and I think it even imploded. Yep. I sat in a chair as I watched every single vision that I had drown in the ocean of despair. This is where all the dreams and goals went that people failed to achieve. I didn’t even have to try, it just happened. My life as I knew it was no longer in my control. My health was failing and I needed to accept it. Accepting it meant that I wouldn’t have room in my heart or my mind for anything else. Accepting it meant I was going to either fight for my life or I was going to lay down and die. Believe me, I contemplated both.

Months went by quickly as they were filled with appointments, surgeries, and chemotherapy. I quickly began to realize that all of the other stuff- the laundry piles, the sports schedules, our finances, that fight I had picked with my husband- none of it mattered right now. On top of my health, I quickly came to the realization that my faith was shallow. My number one priority became getting to know my savior. I needed peace. I needed certainty. I needed ground to stand on and I didn’t have any of those things. I was just existing in this scary world of cancer without hope or answers. Where do I go from here? I know Jesus, but I’m not sure I really know Him.

So many people reached out to help physically with meals or cleaning, or financially with gift cards and checks, or spiritually with prayers and songs. I hadn’t ever done anything for these people, but they came from near and far to support my family. I began to fill my days with worship music and Bible reading. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. From the time I woke up to the time I went to bed, I was in a constant state of worship- for months.

This was the beginning of my transformation. Over the course of the next several months, I would have doubts. I would become complacent and comfortable where I was and take my health for granted (I don’t do that anymore- getting diagnosed 3 times whip those thoughts right out of you). I would struggle with anger and fear. Worry would creep in. But something else was happening. I was continuing to pray. Others were continuing to pray. I was continuing to stay in the word. I began to post Bible verses on little sticky notes all over the house. My conversations with friends and family were about Jesus. He was and is the center of my world.

My mind was no longer thinking about the future because I trusted that it was in His hands. This was of course after several battles with satan. I began to trust the process and trust that God had my back because He proved it over and over. I had no where else to turn. God provided the perfect environment for complete surrender, and I fell right into it.

I now live each day for today. I don’t fear the future because God has given me this peace that doesn’t make sense. It’s like my mind won’t even go there. When it starts to wonder, it’s like shutting a door in my brain and leaving whatever is behind it there because it just is too messy to look at. I’ve seen miracles in my life and around me that don’t make sense, so why would I have think that my path will follow the numbers and percentages that doctors give me? I know I don’t control the future nor do I control my health, so it does me no good to try to hold onto it myself.

On the flip side, living this way has its moments. I don’t make future plans. It’s hard to plan vacations, meetings, and life events because that forces me to think about a future that I can’t control. For that reason, I often don’t commit to much outside of a one week window. And you know what? I’m ok with that because in the Bible

it says that God will provide our needs.

“And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?”

Matthew‬ ‭6:28‬, 30

I hope today that you’ll be a wildflower with me. I hope you’ll lay it all down at His feet today. It’s not your burden to carry. It’s so heavy and you don’t need to carry it anymore. Give your back a rest. Let your heart soften and open to the one who can heal your mind and soul. Let Him take your cares and your worries and fix them. And those He chooses not to fix, allow yourself to trust His process for your life. His plans are good and perfect. He loves you more than you have the capability of loving anyone. He can give you a peace and a joy that surpasses all understanding. All you have to do is accept it. Give up control. And really learn to the live the life He created you to have.

1 note · View note

retroateez · 3 years

Text

Prophecy - Chapter Eighteen

length: 2k

taglist: @hewwo-from-the-other-side

prophecy masterlist

In all his years of being the king, Hongjoong had never once been this stressed. Not even when San and Mingi had gotten into a massive argument and refused to speak to each other one week before last year's annual ball.

But now, as he paces back and forth in his study, he's so stressed he thinks his head might explode.

"Why don't we just explain to them calmly?" Seonghwa asks sheepishly. "Invite them here and tell them that they have the wrong end of the stick!"

"Are you crazy!?" Hongjoong bursts, slamming his palms down on his magnificant desk so loudly it makes the kingsguard jump back in shock. "You want to invite them directly into the heart of a kingdom they have already have reasons to attack?"

"Well... I-I thought it would prove to them that there was no magic here-"

"But there is magic here, Seonghwa."

"You said there wasn't!"

"I lied." Hongjoong casually brushes off his comment with a wave of his hand before he starts to pace again. "With the mage, the elf and the girl here there is undoubtedly some form of magical presence. Although I thought it was detectable only when using spells."

"Then what are we going to do?" Seonghwa throws himself dramatically into the chair on the other side of the king's desk.

It's been almost a full week since the ball, since Seonghwa nervously informed Hongjoong of Seventeen's intentions. It had been almost a full week, and they were still no closer to a conclusion.

"We do nothing." Hongjoong says suddenly, with a shrug. "We tell them that they're being ridiculous, and that there's no need for secondary actions."

"And what if they don't believe us?"

Hongjoong stays silent, turning his back to Seonghwa and staring at the lit fire behind him.

"Hongjoong? What if they don't believe us?"

The king clears his throat, and turns back around to face his best, and possibly only true friend.

"Go and tell everyone else what has been happening."

"Hongjo-"

"Now, Seonghwa."

-----

"I just don't understand it." Yeosang sighs, having quietly listened to the kingsguard relay the recent events to him. "Wooyoung and I haven't used any magic since we got here, who could they possibly be detecting?"

You sit silently behind him, chewing nervously on your bottom lip as you ignore the guilt creeping into your blood.

"Neither do I, but that means we have nothing to worry about. Seventeen may just be looking to pick a fight, I hear the politics in their kingdom has been rather shaky recently." Seonghwa replies, running a hand though his unusally messy hair.

"Shaky?" you echo.

"Yes, the thirteen heads of the state have been arguing as of late, or so I hear."

"Imagine splitting the leadership of the kingdom between thirteen figures." Wooyoung scoffs. "A ludicrous idea if you ask me."

"Thirteen? Then why is the kingdom called Seventeen?" you ask.

Yeosang rolls his eyes, as if he's been asked the same question over a million times today already.

"Nobody really knows," he begins to explain. "The main theory is that the kingdom was originally founded by seventeen families, but four of the bloodlines fizzled out over time."

"Murdered by the remaining thirteen, you mean."

"Or that."

Yeosang, Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to talk amoungst themselves about the ups and downs of the Seventeen history, while you turn your gaze to stare out of the stained-glass window of the study. Rain, falling rapidly, slaps against the glass, reverberating throughout the room.

How easy it would be, to be water.

To flow effortlessly, to be undying and without a care in the world.

Instead you were human, burdened with the responsibilities of knowledge and living.

"Are you okay, my love?" Wooyoung sits down beside you, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your back soothingly. "You've been awfully quiet."

You turn to look at him slightly, your heart doing somersaults at the sight of his amethyst eyes looking at you softly, burning with care and affection. You notice too, that Yeosang and Seonghwa had left the room.

You want to tell him everything, you truly do. From meeting with Yunho and stealing his book, to practising magic in secret and possibly getting everyone you care about in serious danger.

But the way he looks at you...

Why would you ruin that?

"I'm fine." you lie through a fake smile, guilt piercing through your heart when he nods and kisses the top of your head.

"There was one thing though, now you mention it."

"Of course." He looks upon you with such intrigue, so much genuine interest in what you have to say. "Can I help?"

"I found a book in the library the other day, it was about magic, I think, I just wanted to ask you about it."

"Well, Yeosang knows more about magic than I do, Iris. Why don't you ask him?"

"Because it was about elven magic..."

There's a flash of something behind Wooyoung's eyes, something that you caught, but something unintelligable.

"I see. What was it?"

"There was just a bunch of spells written in it, written on the back cover by somebody else, one of them said something like feinn ichaer and another one-"

Wooyoung's body shoots up from beside you, darting up so quickly he almost knocks you over in the process.

"What did you just say?" he demands.

"Feinn ichaer?" you repeat. "Aevon bleidd was another-"

"Stop!" he practically screams at you. "S-stop saying those words!"

"Why? What do they mean?"

"Where is that book?" Wooyoung glares at you, angry, crimson fire bursting through the usual calm lilac of his eyes and for the first time since meeting him, you're scared.

"I-I do-"

"Where is it, Iris?!"

"I don't know!" you cry. "I just left it somewhere and it got tidied up!"

The elf exhales shakily, running his hand over his face and keeping them over his eyes for a few moments.

"Feinn ichaer, Aevon bleidd" the elf says after some time.

So that's how you say them.

"Sun blood and river wolf. They are two of the most dangerous spells in the realm of dark magic. In the hands of corrupt people, well, you could conquer entire planets with them."

"What does it feel like? When you cast them, I mean." you really were pushing your luck now but Wooyoung was probably too shocked to care.

"I've never used them myself, but," he looks up to meet your gaze, his eyes glistening, but not burning brilliantly like they usually do. "Feinn ichaer feels like a forest fire rages through your veins. Like your heart has been plucked out and replaced with the sun itself, or like the air you breathe has turned into scorching hot lava... It's like physical hell, apparently."

Interesting.

"You stay far away from those spells, Iris. Do you hear me? And if you find that book, give it to me immediately, okay?"

You nod weakly, only watching as he informs you he has to go, and he promptly leaves the room.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

There wasn't room in you anymore for guilt. The way you were feeling before completely overshadowed by the disappointment in yourself.

How foolish you had been, to think that you could get away with something so stupid. To betray those who had taken you under their wing.

In that exact moment, you resolve to get rid of Yunho's book. Whether it was to burn it, to give it back or simply throw it out, you didn't care. You would find a way to get rid of it, and to put the wrongs you had made, right.

You put your plan into immediate effect, getting up and racing into the library to dig the book out of its hiding place. Hurriedly, you throw all your weight against the grand wooden doors, rushing in and closing them behind you without looking around.

"Iris? Fancy seeing you here." you whip around at the smooth drawl of a voice.

"Hello, San."

He takes a couple of cautious steps towards you, and then you realise what he's holding. He notices your gaze, and smirks.

"Oh, this? Just some light reading, you might enjoy it actually, it seems right up your alley." San sticks out his right hand and mimics the hand motion you had spent so long perfecting. "But of course, something tells me you've already read this, haven't you?"

"What do you want from me?" you spit.

"You and I both know that the magic Seventeen is tracking is, undoubtedly, you."

Somehow, San's statement stings. Even though you knew it was true, despite not wanting to accept it, deep down you wholeheartedly knew it was your fault, it still came as a painful blow.

"So, I want you gone. I want you to stop putting this castle, and this kingdom in danger."

"And how exactly do you plan on doing that, fool?"

"Simple, I'll just tell the king exactly what you've been doing. Or, better yet, I'll tell that elf boyfriend of yours. I bet he'd love to hear how you're using his ancestors magic against him."

"You can't do that-"

"Can't I?" San silently paces closer towards you, close enough for you to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes and to feel his sweet breath fan over your face. "What exactly is stopping me from marching into the king's office right now, and telling him every little thing you've been up to?"

"Well- I-"

"Just as I thought." he scoffs. "You're nothing but a filthy, conniving little street rat."

"That isn't true! I've-"

"Is it not? Then what have you done to prove otherwise? After all, you've stolen, decieved and lied your way to where you are right now. Seems very street rat like to me."

"Are you going to tell them, then?"

"I'll give you a week to tell them yourself. If you don't, then I will."

"Can I have the book back? I'd like to return it."

"And let you learn more of these silly elf spells and kill me in my sleep? Absolutely not."

You glare at his towering form, wishing for nothing more than to punch that stupid smug off his face.

"Fine. A week."

"Pleasure doing business with you, street rat." San beams. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd quite like to see what is so special about this book. Smell you later."

And with that he saunters out of the library, leaving you standing in the middle of the room one second away from a breakdown.

How on earth were you going to tell them? How would Wooyoung react? Worse, how would Yeosang react?

You take a deep breath, throwing yourself into the cushioned seat by the library window and fixating on the rain drops tumbling down the glass.

Everything would be okay. You'll tell Yeosang, and Wooyoung and they'll forgive you. And you'll tell Hongjoong the full truth and he won't kill you.

Probably.

#retroateez #ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #wooyoung #san #jongho #yunho #mingi #medieval!ateez #medieval au

4 notes · View notes