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runnning-outof-time · 6 months

Note

The first of a few :)

Tommy- (3 word sentence prompt) “Happy or Sad?”

Thanks for sending this in Liz! I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to writing it. This is a COMPLETE flip from the fic I shared earlier haha. Also I have to say that the bit at the end was inspired by the lovely Bri @there-goes-thefighter ‘s latest Tommy fic ‘Your Shadow Side’…it’s a bit different here, but the idea was stuck in the back of my mind nonetheless. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find other stories here!

Bedtime Stories

Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

Warnings: none

Word Count: 797

Summary: Tommy gets asked a question that leaves him speechless while he’s telling his daughter a bedtime story.

“I want daddy to tell me a story tonight!” Isabella Shelby exclaimed, stamping her foot on the ground as she looked up at her mother. Her little hands were balled up into fists, and the glare on her face was one that could even rival her father’s. Wonder who she got it from?

(Y/N) sighed and looked away from her four year old daughter, at her wits end now. It had been a long day. Isabella woke up in a grumpy mood, so everything had been a fight with her. On top of that, Matthew, her two year old son, had just figured out how to get into things, so she’d been following him around the house to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or break anything.

“Dad’s busy with his work at the moment, darling,” she tried to reason with the child.

Isabella did not listen. “I’m going to go ask him,” she insisted, turning on her heel then so that she could make her way down the hall to the door of her father’s office.

(Y/N) stayed in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest as she heard the muffled exchange between her husband and child. A look of surprise formed on her face when Isabella emerged triumphant from the office moments later with Tommy following behind her. She’s wrapped around his finger, (Y/N) thought to herself with soft laugh.

“Time for bed?” Tommy questioned as he approached (Y/N), chuckling at the fact that Isabella had walked right passed her without a word.

“It is,” (Y/N) responded with a nod, her eyes wide as she conveyed her exasperation to him. Tommy sent her a soft grin before he continued to follow his daughter to her room.

Once Isabella was settled, Tommy got into telling an elaborate story about a princess who had to go and save her darling dog from the grasps of an evil king — they’d just taken in Cyril and the little girl was obsessed with all things related to dogs. Isabella listened intently to the story, reacting to all of the twists and turns that it had. That was the thing she loved most about her dad’s bedtime stories: no one was the same. (Y/N) swore that he could have made a career in writing them…if he hadn’t went down other paths that is.

“We’re reaching the ending now, love,” Tommy warned his daughter as he took a moment’s pause. A pout formed on Isabella’s face; she didn’t want the story to be over yet. “I need to ask you about the ending…”

“What about it?” Isabella interrupted before he could get to the question, her eyebrows furrowing as she titled her head slightly.

“Happy or sad?” he asked, his brows raised as he waited for her answer.

“Happy,” the little girl answered without second thought. Tommy nodded and prepared to end the story. Isabella spoke again before he could get a word out, “who would ever choose sad?” she asked, her question one of the most genuine ones Tommy had ever heard.

“I…” he began to answer, but his words died in his throat as he really thought about the question she asked. He shook his head and ran his hand along his jaw, trying to think of a response that was worthy of such a question. “Someone who isn’t quite sure what happy is, I’d guess,” he finally responded, not sure if what he decided on was even good enough.

Isabella thought about it for a second, her pondering starkly present in her facial expression. “Well that isn’t us, right, daddy?” she then sweetly asked, her doe eyes finding his again.

In that moment, all the bad that Tommy Shelby had done was washed away. All the struggle and strife, the bad blood and the tunnels were the furthest thing from his mind. Now all that was present was the world that his darling daughter was imagining. One that only held good, one where everything ended happy. He was so thankful for her innocence, for the light that she brought into his life.

The slightest smile graced his lips as he shook his head ever so slightly. “No, love…that isn’t us,” he answered her as he sat a loving hand on her blanket covered knee. His smile grew with each second their eyes stayed connected, and he thanked whoever was mainf decisions in the sky for giving him this beautiful little girl.

“Are you gonna finish the story, dad?” Isabella asked, cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and bringing him back to reality.

Her expectant look made him laugh as he nodded his head. “Yeah, I’m gonna finish the story,” he answered her before going on with the happy ending she’d asked for.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @areyenotfondofmelobster @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby blurb #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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tonixe · 4 months

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Hiya babes hope you’re doing well I’ve had this idea for a young Coriolanus Snow where he’s fresh into his presidency and runs into a maid in his room putting his clothes away. He thinks it’s just some avox but it turns out to be and old classmate (she was in the grade a year younger than but he’d seen her passing in the halls and she came from quite a respectable lineage). He becomes infatuated by her and why she’s working for him and not living some life of luxury, it becomes months worth of cat and mouse where Coryo tries to buy her love with gifts and she tries to stay strong. But finally she gives in and they start an affair (he isn’t married it’s just he wouldn’t want to be caught dead having a relationship with a servant girl). Normal he just tells her he wants to see her and that night they do an assortment of nefarious things, but one night he asked her to say instead of kicking her out like he usually does. She thrown off by this and after a little hesitancy she agrees.

So that’s all I really have feel free to make the rest up, but also don’t feel obligated to write about this it’s just something that’s come to my mind. I didn’t mean for this to be so long sorry. Love you loads hope you have the best of days and I hope you’ll find inspiration from this prompt. Okay kisses and hugs this is me signing off.

— Dirty little secret

WARNING: Unprotected sex, implied mudpie, fingering, implied affair, groping.

PAIRING: President!Coriolanus Snow x maid!reader

WORD COUNTER: 1.8k

Days for Coriolanus seemed to tick on longer than he bargained after getting elected and inaugurated to the office of Panem. Being the President of Panem wasn't a joke, nor did it have any time to just sit around, he was a busy man with a country behind him and leading the future of his people and generations. It was tiring for him, sometimes he would just accidentally sleep in his office rather than go to his bedroom. After piles of documents and papers were placed on his desk, finding more time to complete them if he locked himself away in his office.

On top of that, he had to make speeches and host future events. He just didn't have any time for self-pleasure with all the work on his desk, but he was dutiful and a studious worker. He did his usual routine after finalizing some paperwork and handing it off to his secretary to press. Dragging his feet against the delicate and pleasant tiles, tiredness drowned his vision, as he opened the door of his chamber spotting a dainty maid in his room. Your eyes widen at the sight of the President in front of you, immediately bowing down, before lifting your head slightly up. "Mr. President, I was just delivering your clothes" You curtsy at him, Coriolanus originally thought you were just an avox until you spoke, but now a mere maid hired by his secretary but once he got a glimpse of your face, a flash of simple memory ran through his mind. You started taking steps away from him trying to get away from the brewing tension, "Stop" You turned your body to him, looking at him with your full attention.

The sounds of the heel of his shoes on the bedroom flooring, feeling his soft hands on your jaw, slowly lifting your head up, taking in the scene of you. You held your breath as he simply inspected you, feeling your heart pumping against your chest. His azure eyes stared into your own, for a moment..before he withdrew his hands away from you. "You may go" he finished, you watched as he turned his body away from you before you scurried out of the bedroom.

But Coriolanus couldn't help but look back at you as you ran away, the sense of familiarity when he saw you was haunting his head. He pondered about it, putting his hand underneath his chin as he thought about you. The passing days were just Coriolanus watching you as you worked around the manor, his eyes never leaving your form. He managed to gather some information on you, by looking through your files, after all, he is the President of Panem it's his job to know everything, right?

His hands flipped through the dainty white pages, your headshot on the first page as he read through the private information, finding out that you were from Capitol blood, and ended up in the depths of middle class maybe even lower instead of luxury. Curiosity filled his mind about you, questions flowing through his mind with no answer to them. "What really are you..Y/N" he whispered under his breath, examining the photo of you. Most of these days were now mostly spent with him staring at you doing chores around the household, hanging up laundry, washing clothes, and cleaning the floors.

He likes how you laugh and smile when talking to your co-workers while you work. Every time he sees your smile, it makes some of his problems melt away, if he is stressed, he completely forgets what he was stressed about. He would purposely order you to his room to clean or arrange something in his office. Over a few months passing, he would continue asking for you, so adding little gifts and necklaces. For you, it was a surprise, certainly. Who expects the President of Panem to gift a simple maid a luxurious, expensive necklace, priced at a high price, more than you get paid. So you would send them off, at first you were confused thinking it was a mistake he sent the luxurious package to you, then it was sent back to you, this time a different gift, more beautiful and elegant. So you sent it back again, he began to be more curious and furious why you didn't keep and accept the gifts he sent, were they too ugly, an eyesore or indifferent to you.

So he orders you to his room...

It was the middle of the night, being pulled out of the servant quarters by the headmistress, ordering you to serve Coriolanus, and you obeyed. Your body is still engulfed in your flimsy nightgown and your flats on the floor of the manor, as you walk down the hallways. You opened the door to Coriolanus still in his attire, leaning on the bedframe. His eyes darted at you. "Mr. President, you requested of me" You held your hands together, looking him in the eyes. You hear his footsteps inching closer to you, his hands on his hips, "Do you hate them?" he asked, his eyes never leaving your frame, cocking your eyebrow, confused about what he was asking you.

"Hate, what, Sir?" you questioned, "The gifts" he walked closer to you, "Do you hate them, Y/N?" he looked at you, his eyes attentively staring at your own e/c. You felt sweat pending up on the palm of your hand as you began to clear your throat, "No—I just thought you sent them by mistake, sir" You said, you looked away from him, feeling flustered at how close he was to you. 'Y/n, do you think I'm an idiot to send something three things to the same person?" He gently lifted up your chin, making direct eye contact with you. "N-no, sir!" You exclaimed, "Then why, my sweet dove?' he questioned, "What have I done to deserve them" You mumbled,

"Every time I saw you, you have been pulling the strings to my heart..." He whispered, his deep voice resonating through your body, sending chills down your spine, you were hesitant to respond to him. The few moments of silence were unbearable, it felt like his eyes were tracking your every move. "Would it, not be improper for you to date a servant woman like me?" You murmur, and he immediately takes your face into his hands, "I will trade all of Panem just to have you in my arms" You parted your lips, staring at him in shock. Before he took your lips, kissing you. His hands touched against your skin, making you whine, his fingers slowly taking off the strings of your sheer nightgown. Immediately the cold air hits your bare skin making you moan, his hand trailing against your sides. He withdrew from your lips, his eyes clouded with lust, his pupils dilated. "W-we can't", looking away from him in embarrassment, trying to cover yourself up from his gaze.

He picked you up by your thighs, immediately putting your arms around his neck. He carried you towards the bed, dropping you onto the mattress, you instantly tried to cover yourself until he ripped your hands away as he stared at you beneath him. He took off your panties, slowly, his eyes staring at your slick coating your panties off, making you flustered. He started taking off his belt, you watched as he took his trousers off along with his boxers. His length springs out, pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock, feeling yourself getting wet underneath him. His eyes were heavy with lust, impatiently to have you, taste you, and fuck you.

He slowly inserts himself into you, a moan being ripped out of your throat, holding him by his biceps. "Itis' too big" you groaned. You tried to adjust yourself around his cock, you bit the bottom of your lip simmering the pain. Before he started moving, his pelvis smacked into your cunt as your breast bounced in impact.

You pushed your head back in pleasure as he forced himself into you, he groaned into your ear. "You're taking me so well, dove" he whispered, kissing your collarbone. The sound of wet skin clapping resonating around the bedroom, his hands moving around your body, rubbing the nipples of your breast, moaning in response. "Your so warm" he groaned, moving his hips against you, you felt yourself inching near your release.

He place your leg onto his shoulder, moving your body to the side as he thrusted inside, feeling his cock deeper inside you.

His hand groped your breast, abusing your nipples as he plunged into you deeper. Before feeling yourself coming undone, squeezing down on his cock. "Fuck" he groaned, pushing himself into you. His fingers trailing down onto your pelvis, he rubbed your clit, making you whine. Breathy moans echoed from your lips, and you looked through your lashes at him. Your walls massaging his cock, his thrust getting faster and into an animalistic pace.

His groans became frantic, as he fucked himself into you, before he pulled out and cummed onto your stomach, the white sticky load coating your body. Feeling your legs shaking, and your chest heaving. Staring at him, tiredness in your eyes.

"You did so good, dove," he said, kissing the corner of your neck.

Soon this moment happened time and time again, mostly during the nights when everyone was gone or sleeping away. He would call for you, knowing what would happen at the end of every night, you on his bed either coated with his cum or filled with it. Usually leaving before anyone can get suspicious of you and Coriolanus. Always wearing a nightgown, Coriolanus purchase for you. Looking into the mirror with the rich, satin fabric on your body, hugging your curves and bosom.

He would surprise you with special things mostly material things but you were grateful for them.

He would buy luxurious lingerie and jewelry for you. You were getting ready to meet Coriolanus as he called for you again, wearing the special red lingerie underneath nightgown, you obeyed. Walking down to his chambers, in the end, the precious lingerie was ripped and your nightgown on the floor stained with cum. His hands on your waist as he thrusted into you, he was close and you were already done and tired. His hands explored you, before he spilled himself into you. Pulling himself out of you, your legs were shaking, holding yourself up. Feeling him leaving a kiss on your cheek, he put himself into his pants.

You walked towards your discarded nightgown, taking ahold of the material, and slipping it on. There was a moment of silence between you and Coriolanus. Getting yourself busy, fixing the fabric of the nightgown, pulling it down carefully.

"Wait, Y/N" you turned around at him, "Yes, Corio" you responded, he loved it when you used that nickname with him, he walked forward to you, "Stay" he paused for a minute, "Stay with me for the night" He finishes, your eyes slightly widen. "What if, we were caught?" You whispered, "Nobody could come in without my permission, Y/N" he pushed a strand of your loose hair over your ear, "Just stay" he whispered, his hands trailing down to your waist, rubbing them in reassurance. You cleared your throat, putting your hands on his chest, and parting your lips.

"Alright—I will..."

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cameronspecial · 9 months

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Fight or Flight

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Content (Not full-on smut but mentions of a heavy makeout and grinding.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: When Y/N plans to take her first solo trip, Rafe has to make sure she can defend herself.

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Masterlist

Wherever Y/N is, Rafe isn’t far behind her. The duo had been best friends since they were in diapers and he has been protective of her for almost as long. Everyone knew they liked each other, but neither of them was willing to admit it. “You don’t know how to defend yourself, princess. Who is going to protect you if I’m not around? I can book a ticket right now if you want,” Rafe proposes, watching as she books her own ticket to London. Y/N shakes her head, “Rafe, it would defeat the purpose of my first solo trip if you come with me. Plus? I don’t need you all the time to protect me. You know, I’ve been taking self-defence lessons.” He raises his eyebrows in a surprised manner. “Really? You think you know enough to keep yourself safe?”

“Yes, the instructor seems to think so.”

“Okay, well, if you want me to not coincidentally happen to be on the same flight and staying in the same room, then I’m going to need to test your skills. I’ll book the boxing platform at the gym for us for tomorrow. Deal?”

Knowing it was the only way she could get him to back off, Y/N had no choice but to agree. “Deal.”

———

Y/N walks out of the woman’s changing room in her athletic clothing with her hair in two Dutch braids. Rafe can’t help but smirk when he sees his old high school varsity sweater covering her figure. He knew she had stolen it even though she kept denying it, but he couldn’t be angry at the fact because the sight before him was breathtaking. She gets to the rope that surrounds the ring and he walks over to help her up. She feels a warm feeling in her stomach as he does most of the work lifting her up onto the platform without breaking a sweat. “I’m not going to go easy on you. A normal attacker wouldn’t,” he warns as she takes off her sweater. She gives him a thumbs up and they go on opposite ends of the platform.

They begin by circling each other and then Rafe goes in for the attack. He lunges forward and wraps his large hands around her neck. Y/N remembers what she learned and immediately tightens her neck. She uses the weight of her whole body to push down on his thumbs and bow herself out of the choke hold. She does a little victory dance that makes Rafe laugh at how adorable it is. “You know you shouldn’t do that if you were actually being attacked,” he comments, stepping back from her. She looks over at him, “I know, but I’m proud that I actually remembered. Hey, can you get me your water bottle, please? I’m thirsty.” Rafe just shakes his head with a smile on his face and turns to do as she requests.

Once his back is facing her, she runs with all of her force to push him onto his stomach, which works. However, Rafe thinks faster than her next move and he swipes his foot from side to side. It knocks Y/N off of her feet and she falls flat on her back. Her legs are spread open on top of his spread legs and before she can get herself up, he hooks his legs around her. He twists them so that she is on her stomach and his chest is against her back. His pants brushes past her ear causing her cheeks to heat up at the feeling. Rafe knows the position has made his blood rush to a certain prominent lower body appendage, but he does nothing to hide it from her. They stay lying this way for a few seconds in silence and since she doesn’t try to remove herself from him, he decides to shoot his shot.

He lowers his head so it is closer to her collarbone, placing a kiss right there. Y/N’s breath hitches as he begins to kiss up her neck. He stops at a particular spot where he notices her eyes fluttered shut and begins to nibble at the skin. The attack on that spot only stops when he is certain a hickey is going to form and he begins to kiss his way back up to her lips. She brings her lips to his and they start to move against one another. This position is a little uncomfortable to be making out in so she quickly flips over so that their chests are pressed against each other and her legs are wrapped around his waist. He places his lips back to hers and his tongue slips into his mouth, but they begin to fight for dominance. When it begins to look like she is losing, she thrusts her hips up so it comes into contact with his clothed cock and he stops to let out a moan. That is when she takes the advantage to slip her tongue into his mouth.

She notices how much he likes that action and she flips them so that they are both sitting. She straddles his hips and begins grinding into him. He moves his lips from hers and starts kissing back down her neck so his lips are kissing the top of her breasts. Realizing where this is about to go, she runs her fingers through his hair to push his head back. She presses her forehead against his and they both take a panting moment to catch their breaths. “We can’t continue this here,” she breathes out to him. Rafe brings his lips close to hers, “Okay. We can continue this in London.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron one shot

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ghostlywhiskey · 6 months

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Just thinking about Price, as per usual, and wondering if he and Mrs Price have a big wedding or do they elope? I can see them starting to plan a wedding, hating it, and eloping. But I can also see them doing like a big Catholic wedding or something

give me the big catholic wedding and i want lana del reys young and beautiful instrumental version BLASTING no i'm not projecting HOWEVER

i feel like you would be sat at price's dining room table which is doubling as the planning area for the wedding. the table rendered useless for dinner or anything since the engagement. various color swatches, pictures of flower arrangements as inspiration, and venue layouts for the reception covering surface. the only certain thing so far was the church which was decided on without even really discussing it. price's mother insisting it would be the same church she got married, as did his siblings.

price doesn't handle too much with helping, he'll sit and watch you as your hunched over the table, swapping around photos on the table trying to see what decor and variations of colors look best together. the only time he offers his opinion is when you ask. you want him to feel involved, but he just tells you that he trusts your judgment.

and i feel like one day you'll just be stressed out of your mind, in a bad mood about everything. price easily noticing, so he'll walk up behind you as your sat at the table. hands pressing into your shoulders as he starts to massage them, leaning down to your ear.

"turnin' into a bridezilla, love." you sigh in defeat, leaning back into the chair and turning your head to the side to look at him.

"who taught you that word?"

disregarding the question, he moves closer to you so his lips brush against yours. "forget the big old wedding. let's just go to the courthouse." his suggestion barely processing in your head before he kisses you, silencing you from any protests you may have.

your hand snaking up to rest on the back of his neck, a soft hum of approval vibrating your throat as you two stay locked in the kiss.

when he pulls back is when you're finally able to say something. "you can't be serious," you mumble, fingers gently scratching the back of his neck. "your mother will have your head on a stake." the comment making him chuckle, as he knows you are most likely right.

"can't disagree with that, but," his hands giving your shoulders a squeeze, eyes locked on your tired ones, bags having formed from all the stress and lack of sleep due to the wedding planning on top of day-to-day life. "who cares how this shit turns out if we just elope? doesn't need to be perfect." he mumbles. price taking a step back to grab the chair and turn it to face him, bending down in front of you.

"we can do the wedding at the church as a small thing with only close family and friends," his hands resting on your thighs as he gives them a squeeze, partly stabling himself as well by holding onto you. "for theatrics, y'know? just to make my mum happy. and so she doesn't know we eloped."

"no reception? or decor?" you ask, trying to register what he meant.

"none of the shit i wouldn't even think twice about that day."

#nic responses #nic talks price #john price fluff #john price x reader fluff #john price x reader

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hanasnx · 2 years

Text

parent trap au

minors dni 18+

character(s): dilf!anakin skywalker, reader, padme, luke, leia

warnings: sfw at the top, nsfw at the bottom. dilf!anakin, age difference, size difference, divorce lol, no angst, mention of choking

lowkey based off of a meme i can no longer find

☥ luke and leia as twins, anakin as the dad, and padme as the mom. reader as the fiancée to anakin

☥ since it’s my au and i’m god it’ll be a parent trap with a twist—

☥ luke and leia want their parents to be together like any normal kids do

☥ this au is inspired by both of the parent traps (the old one and the lindsey lohan one)

☥ i imagine that luke and leia are the type of twins that look very similar when they’re younger like twins do, and when they get older you can so obviously tell the difference. but when they’re younger (and luke’s voice hasn’t changed yet from puberty) they’re like the same kid

☥ leia grew up with padme and luke grew up with anakin (this is purely because im trying to think of personality types, and how their personalities compliment each other)

☥ leia having to cut her hair like luke’s & bite her nails

“you still biting your nails?”

“dad, you noticed!”

☥ leia IS the type to immediately undermine anakin’s new fiancée (you) in the pool

☥ leia is like “we’ve got a mayday over here, dad’s got a girlfriend”

and luke is like “i just got here and i want more time with mom! figure it out!”

☥ now you, have no idea how to talk to kids, and leia draws some conclusions about you that the servant has already drawn about you

“anakin’s no charmer. he’s not the type. so what’s a young lady like that doing with him? she’s after his money for sure”

and young impressionable leia is like “that’s bad!”

☥ leia plays tricks on you but for the most part they’re harmless to you, the manipulation is confusing but you conclude that it’s coming from a place of jealousy because it’s been just “luke” and “his” dad— cos obviously you have no idea this is leia

☥ when luke and leia reunite padme and anakin to swap them back, you think it’s best to stay out of it

“maybe i should stay at my place for a bit while this blows over? give you some time alone with your family to sort this out?”

“that’d be best, i think,” anakin says

“i love you, good luck. call me if you need anything,”

☥ you laugh when anakin tells you they put together a dinner for him and padme. you clutch onto him,

“that’s so cute, honey, oh my god,”

“right? padme thought it was adorable too,”

☥ so luke and leia get their parents together, but then their parents explain they’re not in love anymore, and they didn’t work out cos they weren’t good for each other. dad’s new fiancée isn't going anywhere, and everything’s okay. and now what changes is the twins get to see each other more often :)

padme and anakin sitting them down being like “look, i know you’re disappointed, but your father and i weren’t right for each other. it was wrong of us to separate you two, and effective immediately that’ll change, but (y/n)’s not a bad person, and she loves your dad. you two have been really unkind to her when she’s doing something very hard. trying to be a part of a family like this.”

“but mom! she’s after his money!”

“where did you hear a thing like that, leia?”

“from the housekeeper!”

anakin replies, “(y/n) makes her own money, leia, she doesn’t need mine,”

☥ it sounds so realistic for kids immediately to peg the fiancée as the bad guy and have no idea what the fiancée is going through to try and be a part of a family that’s already formed.

and ofc you get that, seeing it as them acting up on misinformation, and they’re just kids they didn’t know any better and it came from a place of hurt, of wanting to see their parents back together

☥ so luke and leia have you pegged all wrong bcos of the influence of the servant’s words, (and because it’s easy to draw conclusions about someone who’s unknowingly a large obstacle in plans to get their mom and dad back together) and you’re actually really nice, you’re just awkward around kids.

you might be a little pissed at anakin for not telling you they’re twins tho but anakin never would’ve guessed this would happen

now on to the spicy stuff bcos i’m obsessed with dilf anakin

☥ you in little tight dresses, sitting on dilf!anakin’s lap and being some big time magazine publicist and all done up like a dream and anakin is just smitten

☥ anakin with his hair like episode 3, in a black button up, loosely tucked into jeans and you sitting on his lap to undo the buttons a little and he catches your hands

☥ having this whirlwind romance, sweeping him off his feet basically. as far as he’s concerned he’s done the dating thing, then the marriage thing, and it was all well and good— but he’s not into doing it again. until he meets you

☥ like the lohan movie, you came to do some publicity for anakin’s vineyard, and you had no idea how goddamn cute he’d be until you arrived. quite literally, he left you speechless.

☥ he walked out with this smile of his to greet you, excited to show you around, welcome you in. it was a warm greeting, unlike the people of california, which left you wondering where he’s from. you ask about his personal life as well as his work, subtly mixing it in some flirts

“so do you share this vineyard with anyone else, mr skywalker?”

“anakin, please,” he meets your eyes and you raise your brows briefly. he pours you a glass of red wine so you can sample some of his work.

“anakin,” you correct.

“i share it with my son— luke— he’s away at camp right now.”

you take a sip of the wine, and trace the rim with your manicured finger, “oh,” you look up at him, “must be lonely,”

JDKSJSJ like oh jfnfnf he’s kinda like ‘oh??’

“i don’t mind company. you’re welcome anytime,”

☥ after the interview is over, you hand him your business card, thanking him for his time. “my personal phone number is on the back. feel free to give me a call,” and you get into your fucking pristine white jetta and pull out of his driveway and you know his eyes are following your swaying ass and legs in that skirt and Heels as you walk away and get in to that car OFJFN

☥ of course he calls you, invites you out, the chemistry is effortless. he insists on paying for the meal and suddenly you’re back at his place this soon, taking off his clothes

☥ the way this man knows how to eat pussy has you hooked— and he loves it when you tug on his hair in approval. makes out with you with your essence still on his chin and tongue.

☥ “i’ve been waiting to get this little dress off you since i met you,”

☥ he’s so fucking strong, manhandling you, fixing you where he wants you. you’re on your elbows and knees on his bed, and he’s standing behind you with his knee resting next to you as he’s pistoning into you. grabs your hair to tug you back into him.

☥ he’s not that much older than you, probably, but that doesn’t stop you and him from mentioning the age difference.

“didn’t think this old man could fuck you this good, huh?” licking and sucking on your neck as your legs are jellying because of his actions

☥ the way he’d have control over your body, his experience showing through and leaving you fucked out and crying for release

☥ he’d worship every inch of you. “you like calling me a creep, baby? a pervert? i am. sweet little thing, i wanna make sure you can’t forget me,”

☥ warm, calloused hands cupping your pretty tits while they bounce in his hands, riding him.

☥ “you feel so good, so amazing, you’re so fucking sexy, please, anakin, fuck me,”

“tell me the minute you wanted me.”

“as soon as the first time you smiled at me, please,”

“that’s right, baby, you’re the little whore here. lusting after me,”

☥ it’s just a long fuck-cation (fuck+vacation) for you. going home with this dilf to beg for his dick as soon as you’re available.

☥ his fingers— you’d fucking love his hands. he holds your back to his chest, one hand on your throat while the other is groping and probing your pussy

☥ he’d be pretty surprised when you beg to give him oral, to fuck your throat to make up for all the pleasure he’s been giving you. tbh you introduce him to a few things, and you’re supremely good at finding new likes for him.

☥ “what’s wrong? guys your own age can’t fuck you like i can?”

“quit being cocky,”

“oh, honey, you and i both know you prefer me that way,”

☥ being poolside in a skimpy little bikini he bought you, coming over to bring you a drink he made for you, groping you on your sun tanning chair, and somehow you end up riding him, tits falling out of your bikini top

☥ the ass smacks and grabs, physically incapable of keeping his hands to himself when you’re around.

☥ you wearing his clothes to go make breakfast in the kitchen and he comes with you and messes with you, groping you while you’re making coffee. licking jelly off your fingers

licking jelly off other places

☥ fucking you over his kitchen counter, at his lake, hiding in the hedges of his vineyard, in his wine cellar, on his balcony over the railing—

it truly is a fuck-cation, and when it isnt?

its romantic, attentive, conversation and walks. its practically living at his place, it’s going out to eat together, and movie nights that start make outs and end in lovemaking, it’s telling each other that youve both meant to visit italy, and when he asks you to marry him, thats the honeymoon he plans for you

also the twins learn to like you lmfao

#the parent trap au #dilf!anakin #headcanons #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #x f!reader #sw #leia organa #anakin #anakin skywalker x y/n #movie au

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xtrafluffyteddy · 4 months

Text

Everdoor

spiritfarer!Johnny mactavish x spirit!Reader x spirit!Simon Riley

I’ve been playing spiritfarer and I got inspired, this is mostly from Johnnys pov, kinda bittersweet ending?

Being the new spiritfarer wasn’t an easy task but when Johnny was choosen for it he knew he could handle the weight and burden of having to cross over the many spirits still stuck in the ethereal plane “Johnny” the previous spiritfarer Price grumbles lowly, Soap was quick to look up at the large creature like man “yes sir?” He replied, “make me proud” was all Price said as he crossed over into the Everdoor.

“Okay Riley” johnny huffed as he looked down at the German Shepard by his side wagging its tail in happiness “let’s go help some spirits hm?” He smiled as Riley barked in reply reaching his large hand down to scratch behind the dogs ears before turning to his controls setting his navigation to some random island on the map.

That’s where he met the first spirit who would board his ship, standing before him was a very large cloaked figure at the end of the pier staring out into the vast nothingness “hello?” He called out causing the spirit to quickly snap towards him “who are you, how’d you get here, how’d you find me” the spirit shot off rapid questions already on guard “I’m Johnny but you can call me Soap I’m the newest spiritfarer” he reassured putting his hands up to show he’s harmless “my boat took me here I’m guessing to bring you aboard” the cloaked figure held an aura of distrust as it reluctantly followed Johnny to his ship.

Once the cloaked figure set foot on his ship it’s cloak immediately vanished leaving a very broad and tall man with a skull mask staring back at him “I’m Ghost” the spirit grunted as he looked at his new surroundings before digging around his pocket to give Johnny his obal

Days and weeks passed as Johnny upgraded his ship, helped other spirits cross over while Ghost remained never growing close to any of the other spirits, always sticking to himself only really talking to Johnny or playing with Riley. “Phew another spirit in the Everdoor I’m on a roll aren’t I” he grinned at Ghost who was sat in his own house that Johnny had built for him “you remind me of my old team” Ghost mumbles as he looks lost in thought “always ontop of things, always together” that’s all Ghost said for the rest of the day deciding that he just wanted to be alone worrying Johnny just a bit.

He couldn’t stay worried for long as he docked at a new island filled with cherry blossom trees and strawberry bushes which he quickly harvested as he made his way up towards the lone cabin at the very top of the hill. “Hello?” He called out to the cloaked figure sitting at the lone bench over looking the sea “hello?” He called out again as he made his way towards them “hello Spiritfarer” you say still not turning towards him “I’m guessing you’ve come to take me away from my home” you inquire turning slightly to look at the large man “only if your comfortable with that” he reassures “well I mean it’s time isn’t it I can’t cling to the past forever” with that he watches as you rise up take one last look at your home and follow him to the ship once onboard your cloak melts away revealing your form standing before the only other spirit on the ship and Johnny “it’s been so long since I’ve been around others” you snicker

The three of you were thick as thieves growing closer and closer as the days turned to weeks then months everything was well sure you’d had a few times where Johnny was worried because you were struggling against an unseen foe, or when ghost would have what he could only guess were ptsd flashbacks that caused him to be catatonic for days, the good times outweighed the bad in his eyes as long as you both remained happy then he would keep trying to make you both better.

“Johnny” Ghost said one day after Johnny had fed him his favorite food of beans and toast “I think it’s time Johnny” Soap felt his heart drop into his stomach he knew this day was coming but he would never be ready for it “I’m ready to go Johnny” ghost said as he placed a calloused hand on Johnnys warm cheek “you know what to do” Johnny nodded a sadness burying itself in his heart as he set his navigation to take him to the Everdoor

“I’m gonna miss you Simon” Johnny watched as you said your goodbyes to your beloved Ghost hugging him tightly and pressing a soft kiss to his cheeks then his lips only letting go of his hands as Ghost boarded the small boat that would take him to his final resting place “ready” Johnny questioned his voice thick with emotion “ready” Ghost reassured as he gently placed a hand on Johnnys knee giving him a smile behind his skull mask.

“I’m grateful for everything in my life” Ghostst began as Johnny continued to row “grateful for my team, for the tragedies, for meeting you and them” Ghost smiled as he took off his mask wanted to feel the breeze on his face one last time “I’ve done bad things, and at one point I was sure I was a villain but when you look at me it makes me want to be a better person” Johnny sniffs but keeps a strong composure “I've never deserved you anyway... But I've loved you, and that won't stop even if I'm not around anymore. The ones who really love you never really leave you, you know” Ghost reassured as they stop in front of the large door Johnny quickly rushing to pull ghost into a tight hug inhaling his strong scent “I love you Simon” Johnny murmured as Ghost rose above him disappearing in a burst of light

It was lonely without Ghost on the ship but things had to keep moving, Johnny continued helping spirits cross over while you remained unmoving wanting to stay by Johnnys side for as long as you can teaching him lessons on how to open up to people, to love, to grieve properly. “Even when I leave you Johnny I’ll wait for you on the other side so you don’t have to cross alone” you smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to his lips before disappearing into your house.

The day johnny had been dreading had come you were ready to leave you had told him so as you were helping him into his orchards “I think I’m ready Johnny” you say as you put the fallen apples into a basket “I’m done fighting the inevitable I’ve had a wonderful experience seeing the world with you but it’s time for me to go” you gently cup Johnnys cheek and all he can do is focus on remembering your touch “you know what to do”.

Johnny couldn’t fight the few tears rolling down his cheeks as he helped you into the small boat watching as you sat across from him brilliant smile never leaving your face “you know I used it be such a logical thinker, everything had its place, everything was black and white, then when I got sick I started changing started learning a new way of living and I always wanted to pass that down to someone and I’m grateful it was you” you coo as you reach out to caress Johnnys cheek “The only lesson I have left is to show you what we're made of. Of ephemeral starlight. We're but a few particles of thought on the vast stream of consciousness” you sigh happily as you lean forward pulling Johnny into a soft kiss wrapping him up in your arms “I love you Johnny and I’ll be waiting” with that he watched as you burst into a ball of light taking your place amongst the stars next to his beloved Ghost.

Years passed Johnny lost track of how many souls he’d helped pass on but now his time was up it was his turn to crossover and he knew that you and Ghost would be waiting for him with open arms and happy smiles.

#ghost #cod mwii #ghost x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish

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by-soleil · 2 years

Text

yours

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, slight crack

Warning: wonwoo is a god sent of a man (2)

This fic was inspired by “yours - chanyeol, lee hi, changmo, raiden”

a part two of this fic >>> “pov"

•••

There are two words you often life by.

The first one being, impossible.

A word you associate to a lot of things. Call it being a pessimist, to you, it’s being realistic.

And there’s the second one, predictable.

Things in your life are mostly, if not all predictable. There’s no use wishing upon the stars, life has taught you that wishing for things would just be the first part of disappointment. The sweetest part of it.

But as if sent straight from heaven above, Jeon Wonwoo swoops in. Turning your impossible to possible and predictable to unpredictable.

The first time Wonwoo saw you was when you were burying your face in books upon books at the library. It was the monday leading up to mid-term week.

Your hair was a complete mess bunched up on top of your head, the phrase you’ve been trying to understand for a good thirty minutes now is making less sense the more you read it. Sparking tears on the inner corner of your eyes.

Covering both your eyes with neon-highlighter stained hands, you groan silently. Not wanting to burst to tears in packed library full of over sensitive college students.

Wonwoo should overlooked you. He really should. Despite looking like a deranged mess, that type of sight is nothing out of the ordinary this time of the year. Basically you’re blending in just fine with the crowd. And yet, Wonwoo’s eyes somehow pulled towards you.

The next few days, Wonwoo’s eyes kept finding you at the library. You either doing the silent groan or on the brink of consciousness trying to find a way to stay awake. Making his time at the library a tad bit more fun than usual.

On the actual week of mid-term you pretty much all caught up with the syllabus making the study time at the library more like a review time. Hence you can actually pay a little more attention on how you look. Thanking the stars you decidedly doing so.

Ditching the sluggish sweatpants, you opt for your favorite pair of jeans and a puffy cardigan to keep you somewhat warm and prepared for the early november chills.

With the library still as packed, you quickly find yourself a seat and settle down before you start reviewing your stuff.

With your study timer starts ticking and the lofi music starts pouring out of your airpods, you immerse yourself with pages upon pages of your notebook. Finally enjoying the study flow you’ve been curating since the beginning of the semester.

Having spent weeks with the same old routine inside the library, you expect no social interaction. So when the deep voice pierces thru the lofi music in your ears, it took you a few extra seconds to realize that the said voice was directed to you.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? Wouldn’t wanna bother you but everywhere else is taken. Sorry.” Wonwoo finally say after spending the last seven minutes mustering up the courage and forming a somewhat coherent sentence.

Wonwoo’s a pretty laid back guy. Rarely get nervous, but for some reason, asking you about the empty seat he clearly knows doesn’t belong to anyone after seeing you study alone for God knows how many times now, made him so.

Wonwoo never cares who seat next to him at the library. Why would he? He didn’t even look at any of them. So him asking for permission to sit on an obviously empty seat surprises both you and himself.

“Y—yeah, sure. It’s yours.” you nod, trying your best to look away.

Mirroring what you feel inside, Wonwoo tries to keep his expression as calm before taking the seat. Murmuring a quick thank you as he does so.

Wonwoo is not one to talk or initiates a conversation first with stranger. In an unfamiliar setting, he usually just sit back and observe his surrounding. Which is why Wonwoo would notice the way you move your chair slightly towards him. And also the way you glance up at him every now and then, making the little smile appear on his face.

“Umm, what’s your name?” you quickly ask after introducing yourself, catching Wonwoo off guard.

Smiling, Wonwoo offer his hand as he introduce himself.

“Okay, since you asked me about that chair earlier, I really can’t help but thinking how nice it would be if we could save each other a seat at the library. You know since the seat is pretty much always taken…” you start off your proposal. “I mean, if I got here first then I’d save you a seat and if it was you who got here first, you save me one. How’s that sound?”

With amusement evident on his face, Wonwoo murmurs “Wow, you talk pretty fast.” making you blush out of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anyth—” you immediately apologize, feeling more embarrassed the longer Wonwoo stare at you.

“No! I mean, yeah we could do that.” Wonwoo quickly cut you off before you got the wrong idea. The fact that you initiate the conversation then the possibility of future meet ups lifts a huge weight off of Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Though the whole time sitting next to you he might look very immersed on whatever book he’s currently annotating, Wonwoo’s mind was working extra hard to formulate a way for him to introduce himself. Something he really thought he’d never do, let alone asking for a favor to save him a seat.

“Great, but if it’s too much trouble you can always say no. I was just thinking it’ll be better for both parties y’know? One less thing to worry about.” you continue to blabber, pulling a laugh from Wonwoo.

A laugh that stops you right then, captivated by how his face demeanor changes significantly. What once was a cold—borderline scary—expression melts into a sweet warm smile that resembles a cat meme you saw floating around on the internet.

“No, honestly, I’d love that. If you didn’t ask, I would’ve asked you for the same thing. Like you said, better for both of us.” he assures you, exactly the right thing to do seeing how your anxiousness is now starting to subside.

After successfully—and also shamefully—asking to save each other’s number for convenience, you both head out of the library. Matching up your class schedules to find a common ground.

Holding yourself back, afraid you might unconsciously push your luck once more and ask him for a quick lunch tomorrow.

Little did you know, Wonwoo was doing the exact same thing.

“Dude, why do you keep glancing at your watch, hot date or something?” DK teases Wonwoo who have been checking the time every few minutes.

As expected, the small chuckle followed by a brief explanation about his plan to go to the library right after lunch, got Wonwoo receiving a few heavy sighs from his friends.

“Dude, chill. You can have fun too, you know? You don’t have to work so hard all the time. It’s okay.” Joshua peeps in, giving Wonwoo a few encouraging squeezes on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I am having fun. Gotta run, tho. I’ll see y’all tonight!” Wonwoo then quickly gather all his stuff before jogging straight to the library where he promise you to be the one saving the seat.

Upon seeing your stumbling figure entering the library carrying a few heavy textbooks that you know you’ll never finish by today, Wonwoo quickly stands up and head your way.

“I got you, let me help.” Wonwoo calmly say as he took the heavy textbooks from your crumbling little fingers. Laughing when you let out a small squeak instead of thanking him.

One of the few little things Wonwoo realizes you do.

“Are you planing on getting thru all of these?” Wonwoo taps on the heavy books.

Shaking your head, you sigh. “In a perfect world, I would. But it’s not. So, I’ll just stop when my head starts steaming.” you lazily say, making it a lot funnier for Wonwoo.

“Sorry, it’s funny. You're funny.” Wonwoo throw both his hands up in defense when you throw him a questioning look.

Eyeing his workspace, you mumble quickly “You can go ahead and leave when you're done. Thank you for the seat.”

“No, I think I’ll stay.” Wonwoo chirps, making you turn your head to figure out wether he’s joking or not only to find him already sucked into whatever book he’s got open in front of him.

The next few weeks spent with the study date—a term you singlehandedly use to describe the meet ups—becoming more and more frequent. Meeting Wonwoo on a daily basis have become somewhat of a habit.

Wonwoo : Bad news, there’s no seat available. I’ve looked on both first and second floor.

You : Awh no :(((

You : I really need to prepare for my next exam, ughhhhhh.

Wonwoo : We could study at my place if you want. Or cafes great too.

You : Are you sure? That would be amazing, my roommate noisy as hell. I’ll never get anything through this thick skull of mine.

Wonwoo : Where are you? Still at the dorm? If so, I’ll pick you up.

You : Thank you, Wonwoo.

And with that, the blurred lines between you and Wonwoo seemed to be even more ambiguous.

What was once an innocent study session have turned into a real study dates where Wonwoo would rest his head on your shoulder when he can feel his head stated to steam up.

•••

Wonwoo used to wonder, what is it about you that made him attracted. It could be the sunshine and rainbow you keep showing whenever he’s around. Or it could be the ready to fight spurs of energy you seemed to always have when things take a turn for the worst. To this day Wonwoo still can’t seem to pin point the exact thing.

“What is it about you?” Wonwoo whisper to himself as he clear out the strands of hair from you sleeping face. Another study session ends up with you falling asleep on Wonwoo’s couch.

“Never letting my mind at ease, got me worrying over your well being everytime.” he continues, fingers running down your hair.

Spending more than enough time with Wonwoo have made you a pretty good guesser on what or how he feels. Or so you thought.

Wonwoo and his observant self have always been one step ahead, catching you worrying about the things you cannot control or the frustrated tears you often held back when you’re stuck on a situation with no one to talk to.

Wonwoo wish you would talk to him, he wishes you’d lay out everything to him. The good and the bad. Not showing him the fakest smile whenever you’re sad and not alone. He wishes he could be there for you, take away all your tears. He wishes you’d allow him to.

The happy go lucky facade you often sporting just made Wonwoo wonder how much trouble you bear alone.

With Wonwoo’s gentle hands caressing you out of the unconsciousness, your eyes flutter open to a pair of piercing eyes hidden behind his favorite glasses.

You smile, “How long was I out for?” you ask, enjoying the feel of Wonwoo’s big hands running down your spine.

“A few hours.” Wonwoo answers. “You’ll hurt your back sleeping here. Want me to carry you to the bed?”

“Five more minutes. I like looking at you.” you continue to smile, too happy with the state you're in right now.

Wonwoo then continue his ministration of soft hands down your back, chuckling here and there whenever you're shivering from the touch.

“Please, let me be yours.” Wonwoo suddenly blurt out. Vaporizing all hazy feeling your previous slumber had left you with.

Sitting up, you shake your head to completely wake yourself up. “What do you mean? Am I hallucinating? Are you drunk?” you squint your eyes trying to intimidate Wonwoo.

“You are not hallucinating, and no, I’m not drunk.” Wonwoo continue to laughs as he take a seat next to you on the couch.

“Then please explain further, my little brain cannot comprehend what you just said. And, no, I'm not expecting anything. I thought I heard something but I think I misheard you, so let me out of this short lived misery cause I—”

“Okay, shush—” Wonwoo stops you with a finger landing exactly in the middle of your lips. Shushing you real fast. “—I love it when you start blabbering everytime you’re caught off guard. But I can’t explain myself when you're giving me no room to talk. So, can I please continue my declaration of love?”

Your heart drops. What the actual fuck, you thought to yourself.

“Thank you.” Wonwoo smiles as if he didn’t just dropped a hefty fucking bomb on your heart before continuing his so called declaration of love. “I like you, obviously, everyone can tell. But spending all these time with you and looking at you from afar, I have notice one thing. That is I want all of you. Not just your bright sunny side, I want your sadness, I want you to share it with me. I want to be the one who takes away all your tears. Seeing you always hide whatever burden you're hiding from me saddens me. I want you.”

“Wonwoo..”

“Can I please, be yours?”

“Why?” you hate to be that girl, the girl who doubt herself and seek for validation. But every word fallen out of Wonwoo’s mouth makes absolutely zero sense.

“What do you mean? You brighten my day, I laugh the most when I’m with you. And I really want you to feel how I feel when I'm with you.”

“You're kidding. Wonwoo I swear on my next final exam’s grade if you’re playing with me I will haunt you till the rest of your day. You do know I can recite a few episode of ‘how to get away with murder’ splendidly, right?”

True to Wonwoo’s fashion, he laughs. The two big hands that were holding you by the shoulder are now wrapping you tight as Wonwoo pulls you to his lap. “Are you threatening me?”

With Wonwoo cradling you like a baby, you bury your face on Wonwoo’s neck. “I know you're big but I can beat you, you know!”

“And what if I’m not playing, what are you gonna do with me?” he softly challenge.

“I'm not answering that.”

“Why?” Wonwoo continues to laugh, big strong hands going back to deliver sweet caress down your back. Melting you right into him.

With no answer coming from you, Wonwoo push you a little to get a good look on you. Beet red face you're sporting gave everything away. Warming Wonwoo’s heart.

“You keep on surprising me, I’m not used to people breaking my expectation.” you finally say, can’t stand being this close to Wonwoo’s face.

“Not my fault your expectation on people is very low. You deserve a lot of things, yet you expect the worst.” Wonwoo’s hands fly to caress your burning cheek this time.

“Better than being disappointed.”

“Then, I will try my best to not disappoint you. Ever.” and with that Wonwoo lean forward, closing the heated gaps between the two of you.

The sweet movement of Wonwoo’s lips melts the stiffness of yours, breaking the wall you’ve put up around your heart little by little.

“Do you not like this? Why aren’t you kissing me back?” Wonwoo breathe into the kiss.

“No, I do. Keep going. I'm just shocked, that’s all.”

With your words in mind, Wonwoo deepens the kiss but stopping not long after when he can no longer contain his laugh.

“I’m sorry you're too funny. Why were you so stiff at first.” Wonwoo turn his face to release a held back laughter.

“Great, now I'm turned on and you're laughing. Greaaaaaat.” you sulk, lifting yourself to get off of Wonwoo’s lap.

“No, no, no, where are you going. I’m sorry. Let’s go again, I won’t laugh this time.” Wonwoo tries to deliver the sentence with straight face but failed miserably.

With disbelief you try to contain your laughter. “I can’t believe you. My ego is fucking bruised right now, and you’re still laughing?”

“You’re also trying not to laugh right now.” Wonwoo points out the obvious.

“We could’ve had a very hot and romantic night just now if it weren’t for your laughing.” you continue to act baffled with the laughter threatening to burst.

“We still could, come on. I'm sorry, I promise I won’t laugh.” Wonwoo quickly say but his laughter slipping out little by little.

“I think you need to calm down.” you finally laugh alongside Wonwoo. Burrying you face between his pecks, you let out all the laughter you’ve been holding with Wonwoo holding the both of you from shaking.

And with that, what supposedly a long hot night filled with affection was spent laughing and trying to calm each other down.

An odd way to end a night where two people come forward to bare out their feelings for one another, but with Wonwoo, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

•••

more of my stuff on my masterlist🤍 & twitter🌞

special tags; @aedreamzy @eleven23

my taglist are open<3

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

Text

All this Chris Evans Sluttiness™️ that's been going around is making me think of Chris sitting in his home/hotel room between premieres, lurking on Twitter (and maybe even Tumblr 👀), scrolling... watching.... laughing to himself at how insane he drives everyone and anyone. He can't keep himself from smirking.

And Sebastian, who's with him whenever possible to keep Chris sane with all the work he's been getting up to, had been preoccupied by his own phone or maybe a book, but now Chris has his attention again as he cracks up about something yet tries not to show it. Choking down the laughter a little, bringing his phone in a little closer to his body. Huh. Normally he shows exactly what makes him laugh to Seb shamelessly, even if it's stupid or not that funny or an old meme or anything.

Huh.

Sebastian gets up to get a drink but really covertly look at what has Chris looking so devious yet so giggly at the same time. Why is he hiding his smile in the palm of his hand? Why's he curled up with his phone so tightly?

Oh, Sebastian licks his lips. Interesting.

Seb catches a glimpse of what's on his screen as he goes and gets some water from the tap, filling his glass just a little, then drinking it down fast. He wanders back, leaving his glass behind him, and slides into Chris' lap.

Chris makes a sound of surprise, pleasant, but drops one hand around his waist easily. The other stays on his phone, stopping to read, smirking, then scrolling further, stopping to read, smirking, then scrolling further, stopping to read...

Sebastian sighs- forming a plan in his head, thinking thinking thinking about what Chris is reading and how it's clearly making him feel - and leans forward into Chris to rest his own head on his shoulder...

Inspiration strikes suddenly.

Oh, perfect.

Sebastian draaaags his hands down Chris' chest slowly. Over his pecs, down toward his belt line.

Chris makes another sound, a contented purr. He enjoys touching people, things, whatever and he likes being touched too. He's paying more attention to Sebastian now but he's still got one eye on his phone. On Twitter. Reading through the explosion of thirst over his latest outfit- tight in all the right places (re: all over), making him look huge in all the right places.

"You enjoying the attention?" Sebastian asks passively, voice quiet in the otherwise silent room, his hands are at his man's hips, just beginning to slide back up to his firm pecs. Seb can't keep his hands off of them. He never has been able to.

"What?" Chris replies as if he didn't hear, but he's already blushing.

Sebastian grins. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

"Are you enjoying the attention?" He repeats, the same inflection, same speed. He's not trying to make him feel bad about it- he's not trying to make him stop. He just wants him to acknowledge his behavior. (Even if said behavior winds Sebastian up like nothing else... seeing that cocky grin emerge with that heady, intense confidence that comes out in the form, usually, of heavy bedroom eyes, landing hot on his skin as if he's naked even when Sebastian's far, far from it.)

Chris squirms under him a little, Seb can feel him juuuust beginning to get hard through his pants. Chris doesn't respond verbally.

"You like driving them crazy, I know," he whispers as he runs his fingers through Chris' hair. It's getting pretty long these days as he's been begging Chris not to cut it. The length looks good on him. "Don't gotta hide it."

Chris' breath is already heavier. "Maybe," he admits, shifting in his seat again. It's a turn on in of itself that he can move at all with another grown man on top of him.

"Yeahh," he watches Chris shudder, "all eyes on you. Looking at how good you look, foaming at the mouth, and dropping panties, and taking God's name in vain and whatever else they do," he can't help but chuckle a little, thinking of all the highly, highly inappropriate memes he's seen used. Chris isn't laughing. He's locked onto his eyes, his pointer finger between his lips, chewing on it a little. "But you know what they're all thinking-?" He raises his eyebrows.

Chris breathes out shakily. He shakes his head quickly. No.

"I bet everyone is thinking about how big you look and how your hands would feel on them. Inside them." Chris couldn't be more pink, his cheeks and neck and probably his chest if Seb got him out of his nice, tight, white t-shirt. "How good all of your weight would feel on top of them, pinning them down."

Chris has fully dropped his phone now. Sebastian has no idea where its gone, Chris probably doesn't either. It doesn't matter. All of Chris' attention on Sebastian.

"They're all wanting a piece of you." Its true. Even if later, when the mood fades from Chris' mind, he'll brush off with a laugh to conceal his own insecurities. "They wanna get fucked, Chris." He pauses for dramatic effect, the air around them thickening...

Chris makes a high sound around his finger where it's in his mouth. Between those unfairly plush lips.

Sebastian encircles his thick wrist with his fingers, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and leaning in to kiss him. "But-" he hovers just a little bit too far from his lips. Not kissing. Just flirting with the idea. Teasing. "How do you think they'd feel if they could see you getting fucked instead of doing the fucking?"

Chris inhales sharply, swallowing a needy sound. Seb kisses the sound out of him, hungry for a taste of him. Chris makes another sound, moaning, when he opens his mouth against Sebastian's. Hot. And a little messy.

It's good.

They kiss and kiss, lips sliding against each other until they can't breathe.

They break apart. Panting.

Pulling back from resting their foreheads together, Seb bats his eyes at Chris, enjoying his continuing squirming and the growing bulge of his erection under his ass as he asks, "you think they'd get even more hot and bothered by that rather than you plowing someone?"

He lets the moment build.

"I think they would," he answers.

Chris is frozen in place now. His chest rising and falling heavily. But he's not squirming. Only staring.

"I think they'd kill to hear you whine and whimper and gasp when you get fucked."

Chris whimpers now.

Seb feels drunk on this. And he knows Chris is too. His eyes are so dark. His eyes are so wide. His cock is hard under him. "I think they'd faint at the idea of watching you arch your back when you're getting dicked and feeling good. Sticking that ass and those tits out. I mean... we both know how obsessed the fans are with your little waist and fat ass, so, of course, they'd love it. And they'd be drooling and wanting to sink their teeth in after I was done with you. I guarantee, baby." He dips his voice to a whisper and Chris leans in to hear him better, hanging on every word. Sebastian feels feverish as he speaks, he's not exactly sure what he's saying but... it just keeps coming out and Chris is into it. "And, God, the fans would pass out watching you move in my lap, on top, like we are right now but flipped. Watching you use my dick..." he has to stop to actually breathe, so caught up in it he hadn't been taking in oxygen. "Can you imagine how many of them would be struck stupid at the view of these tits bouncing? Hell, even just seeing the way you blush when you feel like being on bottom would mow them down, baby. You have the fans in a chokehold. They love you. Watching your every move. Always loosing their minds over you and how delicious you look."

Sebastian pats his cheek, breathing hard himself and ruining the idea of being unaffected a little, "they love you and I love when you get in your moods," he teases, dismounting his lap and getting up to walk away, except-

"Jesus, fuck, Seb," Chris rumbles, voice rough as he reaches out and grabs Sebastian's wrist, a little rough because he's not thinking about his strength, only his lust. Chris uses his grip on Sebastian's wrist to drag him back into his lap. Murmuring dangerously, "you can't talk like that then walk away from me."

"Talk like what?" He teases, widening his eyes to be innocent.

Chris growls.

Sebastian feels his insides turn to mush, melted under the intense heat of his arousal, but he waits. Stubborn.

Chris launches into action instead. Grabbing his jaw and the back of his head to pull him into a vicious kiss, saying against his mouth, voice deep and a little fucked-out sounding already, "c'mon, you can't talk like that then get away with not dragging me to bed and fucking me until I can't think, brat."

Sebastian feels dizzy. God. He loves it when Chris is like this. Needy and not only wanting to bottom but wanting to be fucked.

#fandomfluffandfuck #fic #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #lloyd hansen #bottom chris #top sebastian

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maybebabyplease · 1 year

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ten books to know me

thank you for the tag @mblematic i sat down to do this IMMEDIATELY i’ve maybe never been so excited

the secret history by donna tartt

well what do i even say about this. if you know you know. this is my favorite book ever! nothing tops it!

slow days, fast company by eve babitz

reading this book for the first time at 22 when i had just moved to LA and really started doing drugs and fucking bad actors...i cannot explain it. eve is like. the whole reason i’m a writer now still -- i stopped writing in college (too busy doing drugs and fucking bad musicians at that time) and this book inspired me to start back up and actually work hard at it. thank god.

and i do not forgive you by amber sparks

THE short story collection that made me realize i could write about whatever i felt like writing about. i’ve taken class with amber and she’s just incredible. wildly talented, excellent teacher, taught me everything i know about editing!

modern madness: an owner’s manual by terri cheney

you could insert any of terri’s books here, but i do have such a soft spot for modern madness. terri was one of the first people to really talk to me about bipolar disorder, and to help me understand what was happening to me and how to get help. her memoirs are devastating, but she’s proof of the strength people can have in the face of severe mental illness.

leaving the atocha station by ben lerner

this book has writing that i just want to bathe in. i don’t hardly ever read books by men, but ben lerner is a GENIUS. the macarthur fellowship thinks so too!

the disreputable history of frankie landau-banks by e.l. lockhart

formative formative formative. this is where i learned to love words and wordplay. also where i discovered p.g. wodehouse! horizons: broadened.

the princess diaries by meg cabot

was this series sex ed for anyone else? it was sex ed for me. i used to sneak into the high school library and check these books out when i was in like 7th grade. truly so important everybody say thank you meg cabot (thank you meg cabot!!)

the physics of sorrow by georgi gospodinov, trans. angela rodel

this book really got me into translations! i love love love it. it’s so interesting to see literature from other places, and this was the first book i read outside of school that wasn’t originally in english. so valuable and set me on quite the journey (death and the penguin i’m looking at u)

howl’s moving castle by dianna wynne jones

i think this might be my most re-read book? i try to read it every year during scorpio season, because it just has That Vibe to me. it never gets old!

rules for saying goodbye by katherine taylor

i...don’t know where to begin with this book. katherine taught me how to burn bridges with my writing and not give a fuck at all. i wish i could describe katherine, because she is someone i so adore, but she is beyond words. anyway, the protagonist of rfsg is also named kate taylor. that’s probably all i really need to say. what a woman.

honorable mention: looking for alaska by john green

HOW did i manage to stay alive after reading this book.....the damage that was done...........john green u owe my parents therapy money babe!

OOPS I FORGOT TO TAG! tagging @pancakehouse @colgatebluemintygel @moongays @thebloatedfrog @queemes @blackberry-sunset @pinklume and anyone else who wants to do it! i LOVE to see what books shaped people! what a thrill!

#the takeaway from this is that the people i love #have also really shaped me with their writing #i could put my aunt on here too but i don't want to doxx myself #but the moment when my aunt started asking ME to read HER short stories #instead of just the other way aroudn #that was when i Knew #so: another formative one #god i could have done like 20 books #book recs by em #tag game #molly tag

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mitochondriencocktail · 2 months

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🎨

🌿

🎨 - link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

Ohhh man this is so tough. There's such a plethora of talented artists in the fandom. This might be a copout answer, but genuinely anybody who's been kind enough to make fanart of something I've written. It never ceases to be the highest compliment ever. The ones I've gotten for Hockey AU, Star!Bojan, Good Omens AU and even the Monsterfucker one are all so so so dear in my heart because it means that something I did inspired someone else, and it's this beautiful feedback loop of art and creating.

🌿 - give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

So I wanted to sit on this one for a minute today and not just give a ramble, as I'm prone to do. Writer's block and low creativity happen to nearly every artist across the board and anybody who says different is a liar. So, trying as best as I can, here are my top tips for writer's block and low creativity.

1. Read books: This is probably my biggest piece of advice. I think of this like putting fuel in the tank. You can't go for a run if you're not eating properly, and writing is the same way. Sure, you can read fanfiction, you can watch movies/tv, you can look at art. All of these are fine and great, but nothing gets the brain going the same way as when you read a published, edited book. Exploring genres and styles you don't typically go for can bring about a lot of inspiration and help you:

a) Feel reassured about your own writing habits and -isms when you see that skilled authors also have repeat phrases they like or certain quirks.

b) Find new things to test out in your own toolbox.

When you engage with literature, like really slow down and read and study what an author is doing, you're learning so so so much just through that simple act. It can also bring about great ideas too, which is why I suggest a balance of both fiction and non-fiction.

2. Find what works for you: This is a bit vague, but let me explain. Some writers thrive under consistency while others need variety. Some, like myself, need both. I know I consistently need a somewhat quiet environment where I can feel alone, but staring at a wall all day can get dull. Sometimes switching the font up on your document can help. Or changing the background color. Putting on new music. Sitting somewhere new. It's adapting to your mood that day and working with it.

3. Write even when you don't feel like it: We all have off days. A really common obstacle for people who go to the gym is that you go through periods where you LOVE going, but then you have periods where you absolutely loathe it. Writing is like that. The brain is a muscle and creativity is the skill you're honing. Some days you'll have a great workout, others you'll have a shit one. That's fine!

It doesn't mean you're shit. What matters is that you're showing up and staying consistent. When I'm having a 'shit' writing day, I say, "Okay, just write one sentence." Usually that turns into a handful, sometimes if I'm lucky it turns into a paragraph. But that's all I'll do for the day because, hey, we're not gonna churn out 2k+ words everyday. That would be insane. Sometimes 200 is plenty.

4. Let go of perfection: This one is tough... I know. But practicing the ability to turn off the little critic in our heads is sooooo important. It comes easier to some than others, but it's still a skill you can work on. It's kinda linked with what I wrote above, but sometimes you can just write like shit and that's fine. Chances are it's not as bad as you think it is, but powering through and getting something down on the page is better than nothing, even if it's just a garbled half-formed idea. You can always come back and fill things in later!

I hope some of this made sense! I'm always happy to chat craft with people :) It can be very subjective, but I do believe in the old adage regarding art that once you know the rules, you can break them.

#ask games

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aerodaltonimperial · 1 year

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inspired by the “cursed hook w/friendship” bombshell that i will be screaming about for the next month at least:

When the sun dips into the horizon and begins to slide beneath the darkness, the tug gets stronger. He can see where the worlds intersect, how they line up: where the seams are, the ones humans are mostly blind to. Oh, sure, they've figured out things like lay lines in the barest sense of the word, and occasionally one of them will stumble onto something with real power and cock the whole thing up in their failure to properly channel it, but for the most part, humans are pretty blind to the occult. Normally, this is fine. He likes humans. They're silly and overdramatic in the most amazing ways, and they care way too much about nonsense and ignore actual problems.

But they can't help him right now. And so he walks down to the park, where the pull is strongest, as the sun descends, and sits on a metal park bench that's weathered years of storms. He knows he'll find another there; these places, these times, they're comforting. Remnants of who they really are.

She's sitting on the bench next to his, feeding handfuls of frozen vegetables to the birds lining the pathway. She's powerful, enough that he can see the ripples along her skin, and old: old enough to maybe remember when those seams were first torn.

He must look despondent, because she says, without glancing at him, "You're troubled."

"Yes," he admits. Ah, it's difficult to say out loud. "Danhausen is troubled."

"Speak, child."

"Danhausen is not a very powerful demon," he says, even though that, too, clumps on his tongue. "But the curses always work. Every time. Even if they are very small things, like tripping or losing luggage on the next flight. But recently, they aren't."

She looks over. Beneath her guise is a swirl of power, the sort humans could never even dream of. He wonders what it must feel like. "Oh?"

"There is one person Danhausen cannot curse. I keep trying, and nothing."

She turns back to the birds. Her hand feeds them with great care, as though they are treasured friends, and maybe they are. He waits for a long time, because the Old Ones demand and deserve patience, and also because he really doesn't have anything else to say.

Finally, she huffs. "None of your curses have failed."

That surprises him, enough so that he stammers, "What?"

"You doubt me?"

"Of course not," he hastily backtracks. They've always said he was too impulsive, too loud-mouthed, and well, he's certainly proving them all right now.

She tilts her head a bit, studying the sun that has slipped halfway down behind the horizon. The closer it gets, the stronger the buzz; he feels it in his bones, rattling, in the borrowed sinew and muscles that house him while walking down the human streets. When it reaches the point where the top of the orb aligns with the break of the land, the pathways will open. He won't take them, because he never does, but he could. If he wanted to.

"Ironic," she says.

"What is?"

She stands, brushing dust off her trousers. Her human form is old and well-used, adjusted to the comings and goings and infinite difficulties that come with living amongst those so hell-bent on destroying themselves. He wonders why she stays. Humans are honestly a mess. He loves them, of course, naturally, but he can't deny how often they frustrate and amuse him in equal measure.

"It's ironic that your curses are not as powerful as you'd like due to fear and self-doubt," she tells him, slowly, "when that is exactly what your curses do."

He nods, once, because she has offered him valuable knowledge when she didn't have to.

She leans in, closer. "Be careful though, little one. When you embrace your power in full, you can invite in more than just success."

She leaves him watching the sun set and disappear, the routes closing off again as the sky grows dark, and…well.

Danhausen is going to have to spend some time on that one.

###

He sits with the words, rolls them over in his mind. His human apartment is full of figurines and posters, of funny toy action figures. He likes collecting things. It's such a mundane human trait to want to build a hoard of something that's important only to one's self, and it grounds him, makes him feel as though he's one of them. They really are intriguing at the core, no matter what the others say.

Danhausen spins in his desk chair with his heels kicking at the carpet until his body swims with nausea. Then he stops and thinks some more.

His curses always did something, always something that inconvenienced the person. Why did she say they had all worked if they very clearly hadn't?

"Fear," he says. Naturally. Fear is such a poignant human emotion. It motivates where little else can. But why had she mentioned it like that, said his curses create it?

His curses created bad luck…right?

He stands and walks over to one of the shelving units built into his apartment. It's filled with figurines and strange toys. Finding them is an awful lot like hunting. Many of them enjoy hunting: this feels a great deal less cruel than the other sort he could be doing. He runs a finger over one of them.

His curses have always invited bad luck, sometimes immediate and sometimes more delayed. He thought that was just what they were as a low-level being like he is, more annoying than truly dangerous.

What if, instead, his curses brought about what people feared?

"Fear," he repeats. What if someone feared losing the match, so the curse caused their knees to buckle at the worst time, giving their opponent the tag? Someone feared embarrassing themselves, so the curse split their pants down the middle? The more he thinks back on them, the more sense it makes.

Humans do fear a lot, after all.

And if he hasn't reached his full potential, the fears don't really manifest themselves in truly horrible ways.

She'd said it was holding him back.

Danhausen wanted to try this out. If she was right, everything could change.

###

However, it still begged the most important question: if none of his curses had failed, what is it that Hook fears?

###

He returns to the park the next day, but she's not there. He isn't really surprised. Old Ones tend to know when someone needs their wisdom, and generally don't bother to show up otherwise. He sits on the same bench and watches the sunset, feels the shiver beneath his borrowed skin.

There are two young women walking the path together, heads bent close. Danhausen catches snippets of their conversation as they stride past his position.

"—don't think he will call back," one says.

"Text him," the other suggests. "What do you have to lose? The worst that can happen is—"

"That he says no. Absolutely not. Too humiliating."

"Ugh. Dating is the worst."

They leave Danhausen’s space, and their voices drop down to nothing. He watches them round the next curve, still lost in their discussion. Humans are like that: fickle and embarrassed by their own hearts. It's a strange thing to see, honestly. They construct elaborate walls around their hearts like castles from their Dark Eras, reacting with fire and swords whenever threatened. What strange, capricious creatures.

He leaves after the sun goes down, and the sky goes dark, and the seams connecting the worlds shimmer into nothing once more.

###

He wakes that night with a start.

He knows what it is that Hook fears most.

###

Still, more scouting must be done. Danhausen waits backstage to watch the camera feeds. Wrestling is a fun sport. He likes to crush his opponents in socially acceptable ways (and is thankful that humans, for all their faults, understand the joy in soundly beating someone else). That Tony Nese fellow has challenged him to a match, which isn't surprising, because Danhausen is a very good wrestler. However, it's largely background noise. He doesn't really care. He is invested in proving that what the Old One had said about his curses was true.

If his hunch is correct, this will work.

He goes out after Hook has defeated the big man quite wonderfully, and asks him to be partners. He isn't expecting it to work: after all, he is, as stated, not as powerful as he could be. He drops the bag of chips onto the ring and scurries off. He doesn't look back.

But afterwards, he watches the broadcast. Sees Hook's face when he picks the bag up, and the fear that crosses his features right before he throws it down.

And Danhausen knows that he's right.

###

Sure, he could pummel Tony Nese into the oblivion even without the seams being visible. Danhausen is quite capable of such things, after all. But that is not the point here. He needs confirmation that his curse took root. And so Danhausen allows Tony Nese to get him with his knee, several times, which is far more painful than he anticipated. Human bodies are bafflingly easy to bruise.

And then he waits.

Hook's music starts while Menacing Mike Sterling is blabbering into the microphone for several minutes. He looks angry when he comes out to drive the two men out of the ring and back up to the tunnels. He looks angry to be there, to be walking out at all.

Danhausen swallows back his smile.

###

Backstage, Hook is fuming. He looks furious, but doesn’t flee when Danhausen approaches. He just glares from beneath his sweatshirt hood. He certainly is an interesting human: all sharp edges and bared teeth. He’d do well in the other realms, save for all the soft, vulnerable parts of his soul. He guards them well, but not well enough.

Danhausen probably should have guessed earlier that the thing Hook fears most is opening his heart.

Oh, that’s something of a problem. He likes this human. He is prickly in all the best worst places, heart cracked only when the wiggle of a curse embedded itself there to force it apart. He’s the sort of human that others find too much: too hard, too mean, too standoffish.

He’s perfect.

He’s also shaking as though a hurricane is about to blow him off his feet while still keeping a scowl plastered on his face. Quite a feat.

Danhausen has one moment to hope that his curse had enough strength to really take and coil, to smolder and warm the muscle and sinew and bone around it, before he reaches out to brush his fingers across Hook’s bicep. It’s a risk, but a calculated one. Hook hasn’t bolted yet.

He sort of shudders when Danhausen’s palm settles on his arm. He doesn’t pull away.

“Would Hook like to eat some chips?” Danhausen asks.

Hook nods. The scowl diminishes somewhat.

Danhausen leads him to the vending machines, and the air around his shoulders feels lighter.

###

A few days later, he wakes up to find a tweet on his timeline that he has no memory of writing. He stares down at the unfamiliar words, the strange aggression in the lines, the unspoken threat hanging there, and remembers what the Old One had said.

#gotta admit i don't love how this turned out actually #am struggling lads (gender neutral)#oh well let's throw it up here anyway

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ivorydice · 1 year

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hello, hello ^^ could i please ask about 'the memory of you' or 'mineshaft' for ffxv of your wips ? i low-key am curious about all of them xD but those titles i named piqued my interest most

The Memory of You, like nemo, is an older fic of mine and one I adore very much. It's about Noctis and Ardyn getting de-aged by a daemon's spell into their 7 and 10 year old selves, and they have to adventure across the country together as kids, from Cleigne all the way to Hammerhead, to reunite with Noctis's friends so that they can help them turn back into adults. The first 3 chapters have already been posted to AO3 here.

It's basically an enemies-to-friends adventure fic, with Ardyn redemption and big canon divergence. Fluffy cute times and angsty hurt times ensue. It's a long, dangerous journey across the country for two adults stuck in their kid bodies. And on the way they not only learn to cooperate but they learn more about each other. Noctis learns that there's more to Ardyn than just his annoying attitude, and Ardyn sees that Noctis isn't just the instrument of his own vengeance.

Noctis feels guilty about the whole thing because getting turned into kids is basically all his fault and so he wants to help Ardyn return to his adult body, and obviously Ardyn needs Noctis alive and as an adult again to exact his revenge, so of course they're both going to try and protect each other along the way. But then looking out for each other turns out to be a bit of a tricky thing because that leads to caring what happens to each other, that leads to worrying about each other.

And I've really come to love the title for this fic because it just fits so well. Ardyn, while he's in his child form, isn't under the influence of the starscourge. So there's less of a madness to him, it's harder to lose himself in the anger and the hatred without the scourge adding fuel to the fire. Of course, as they start to bond through their adventure, Ardyn has to keep reminding himself why he shouldn't care about Noctis, this doppelganger of his little brother. He has to remember that Somnus betrayed him, he has to remember that the gods and the people "betrayed" him, he has to remember that Aera "betrayed" him--but then he also has to remember why those were betrayals in the first place.

It's a mixture of angst and fluffiness, and I love this fic very very much! Pity it ALSO likes to fight with me AHHHHHHH.

Also, I have to shout out this cover of Somnus by Celestial Aeon Project because it's gorgeous and inspires me so much for this fic and it inspired a major scene and I get goose bumps every time and now Somnus's theme recurring through my fic's playlist is super important lol.

Also here's a little snippet (first drafty writing):

Ardyn didn’t doubt Noctis had at least some adequate skills when it came to combat and, to an extent, espionage. He was a Caelum after all, of royal blood, and Ardyn had gathered enough intelligence from Insomnia over the years that he knew how they worked. They would have trained the boy from the moment he was old enough, practically groomed him over the years to become a soldier.

The problem was, he was clearly used to putting a certain amount of energy into a body that was a lot bigger than the one he currently had. The unfortunate outcome was him stumbling along now, clumsy and uncoordinated, eyes screwing up in embarrassment and frustration.

It was terribly amusing.

Ardyn stayed with him, feeling a surprising and genuine curiosity in watching the scene play out. He crouched down with him in the long grass and pressed his palm to the top of Noctis’s head gently, keeping him down. “No sudden movements,” he said, keeping his voice hushed, his eyes forward on the small rabbit in the grass. “It has large ears, remember, it can no doubt hear us already.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis bit out, just as quiet. “I got it.”

“The last several attempts betrays that statement.”

“They were just practice runs.”

Ardyn nodded, humouring him. “Of course.”

They moved forwards together, the grass brushing against them with soft sounds, heads barely peeking out. Ardyn froze at the right time, kept his hand on Noctis’s shoulder and squeezed to indicate for him to stop. He obeyed silently, body tense and ready, waiting on Ardyn’s word.

He glanced down at the boy, and promptly wished he hadn’t.

It was a familiar sight. Far too familiar for his liking. Those memories should have been buried down, lost amongst all the others, but it stood out in his mind now, stark and bright and fresh. He’d taken Somnus out hunting just like this, when he’d been old enough to try. Ardyn had shown him what their father had taught him, had begun and encouraged the spark for hunting Somnus had within him, until he’d no longer needed Ardyn to teach him any longer.

Ardyn clenched his jaw and swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth as he squashed the image down.

#i am once again hoping i make sense lmaooooo #thanks for the ask!!#oftincturedwords #replies #my fics

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kookieswan · 2 years

Text

Nocturne of Waves - Interlude II

SeaCreature!Yoongi x Heiress!Reader (f)

Word Count: 1k

Genre: Sea Creature AU, Mermaid AU, Fluff 🌸

Summary: Ever curious, Yoongi crashes your little spa session ✨

Notes: For all of my amazing followers who have inspired me to write more for NoW over the past few days ❤️🌸 Also, this takes place after Part IV!

Find the NoW Masterlist here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing? Jimin has possibly died on the couch but I do not care enough to check.” Pausing, you watch as the door to your bathroom swings open the rest of the way, black tentacles dragging Yoongi into the room. He settles himself in the bathtub, mostly because she has no where else to go, likely hating every second of it but choosing not to complain. You’re glad.

It’s relatively late already, Jimin having passed out on your couch after watching a terrible movie and drinking an obscene amount of wine with you. You had left him with a blanket draped over his form, a light kiss on his cheek and a hiss from Yoongi. Something tells you this I’m won’t be a one time thing.

“Putting on a face mask. It’ll moisturize my skin so it doesn’t get dry and get rid of impurities. It’s clear and sparkly mostly for the aesthetic purposes.” You explain automatically, used to the fact that Yoongi doesn’t have nearly as much information on the human world as you do. Turning back to the sink, you wash off the remaining substance from the sparkly mask you had applied. Yoongi shifts in the tub, long finger poking at your pink loofah like it offends him.

“I see… You have many of these things…” Tentacles slither past you into the counter, trying their best to be careful to some extent, but knocking over anything that belongs to Jimin. The sea dweller picks up multiple products that you’ve bought over time, bringing them back to where he lays in the tub. He stares at the packages, eyes blinking owlishly as he tries to figure out what they’re for. The cute teddy bear on the front of one really gives no clues.

Getting an idea, you grab one of your favorite lotions and settle yourself on the side of the tub, causing your shirts to rise up a bit. Yoongi watches curiously as you pump some of the lotion on your hands and bring them to one of his tentacles. The man stays quiet, watching as you slather the white liquid over some of his old wounds. It’s curious how trusting he is with you, and yet…

“Here, this might help soften up some of the skin around your scaring.” Rubbing it as much as you can, you allow him to replace the tentacle with a new one after a bit. As casually as you grabbed his tentacles. There’s suddenly a wet hand on the side of your thigh. Trying not to stiffen too much, you suppress a shiver as he runs a cold hand over he skin there. It should be concerning how nice his hands feel on you.

“If it makes you soft. It should make me soft too. It only makes sense.” The corners of your lips turn up into a small smile, which grows a little larger as he brings one of his tentacles closer to his face, some of the suckers sticking to the wall. It’s hard not to giggle as he sniffs himself, eyes lighting up slightly in recognition.

“It smells like you, not your real scent but what lies on top.” Nodding, you continue to rub in the lotion as he hums quietly, the soft purring sound sibling out of his chest. It seems to be seeping into his tentacles well enough, and the area does seem slightly softer than before.

“It’s the lotion I usually use, it’s rosewater scented. Maybe it’ll prevent more cracking on your tentacles too, though I’m still not sure how your body differs from mine.” His tentacles whip out, not harshly, it’s almost as if they’re excited. You try to look into his eyes again to question the behavior, but he hides behind his hair, voice quiet.

“… It feels nice. Thank you.” A grin comes to your face, glad to be able to help him out if only a little. Most of his cuts seem to be healed at this point, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pamper him a little bit. Continuing to switch between tentacles, you almost miss the way his pale eyes peer at you through the inky strands of his hair, all curiosity turned on you now.

“Yes Yoongi?” He shifts forward quickly, startling you enough to make you slip forward toward the water in the tub. Yoongi catches you though, one hand braced against your shoulder, the other coming toward your face. The touch is soft and pure intentioned, everything his appearance screams he isn’t.

“You have something… There.” Webbed fingers brush against the side of your neck, close to your jawline. It’s then you realize that some of the mask must have been forgotten there. He uses a nail to gently scrape it away, eyes trained on your every movement as your breathing quickens ever so slightly, the same as your heartbeat. He uses the opportunity and leans in, brushing his nose against your neck as he exhales, voice coming out slightly raspy.

“Your skin feels warmer than usual. Are you alright treasure?” The statement snaps you out of it, voice cracking as you try to come up with an excuse, but nothing really does. Treasure? That’s new… Scrambling to stand up, you clear your throat, knowing the mask isn’t doing much to hide how flustered you’re really feeling. Stupid fish man and his stupid deep voice.

Leave it to you to be attracted to a literal sea creature. A sea creature who eats people for food and may or may not want to kill your best friend. Gracing a towel, you try to seem as nonchalant as possible as your turn on the sink. It’s going to be another long night…

“Y-yes! I’m fine. Let me wash this off and then we can go to bed for the night.”

#nocturne of waves #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #yoongi thirst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts thirst #bts mermaid au

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tootiredmotel · 3 years

Text

Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

warmer than cuddles

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: may plays matchmaker and makes some suggestive jokes

prompt: you and peter get caught in the rain and have to share an umbrella

a/n: thank youuu to the angel who requested <3 swear this is my favorite trope to write hehe ☔️

one of the many things you and peter have in common is being lazy. it’s sort of the basis of your friendship. you’re not the kids who drink or party or get in trouble. you play board games and eat pizza on his ripped up couch. the riskiest thing you’ve ever done is sneak into a movie.

peter was so paranoid you’d get caught, he couldn’t even pay attention. he kept whispering to you about paying the whole time. you had to drag him out by his hand after the movie ended. the next time you went to that theater, he bought an extra ticket to “make it even.”

that about put an end to your trying new things phase. you went right back to your comfy nights in pajamas. tackling each other for the remote, baking terrible cookies that you just throw out, sharing a blanket to stay warm. what also helps is that you cuddle under it.

all the fun you need is you, peter, and your love for doing nothing. may disagrees.

she’s always trying to get you two out of the apartment. in her words, it’s “unhealthy for developing teens to spend so much time cooped up inside.” peter once asked which mother’s facebook group she joined. you snickered at that. may gave you a warning look.

well, you don’t have a choice to stay in today. she’s kicking you and peter out because she has guests coming over.

“it’s girl’s night,” may tells the two of you with a satisfied smirk. she hangs her raincoat on the rack and comes into the living room. peter squints his eyes at her. “you have friends?” he sounds too surprised for your liking. you flick his arm hard enough to make him go “ouch!”

“peter, we only have, like, four friends. that’s counting ourselves,” you inform him with a laugh. peter drops his head onto your shoulder. “and i don’t need any of them but you,” he says sarcastically, rubbing his cheek on your sweatshirt. “aw, i know,” you coo and rest your head on his. may crosses her arms and shrugs.

“you should do a group play date with everyone! i haven’t heard from ned in a while,” she suggests, your eyes flicking over to peter. he’s biting back a grin. “play date?” you try to stifle a laugh when you ask. “you know what i mean. a hang out,” may nods at her better word choice. peter winces in protest.

“eh, ned will probably wanna go out somewhere. we don’t do that,” he tells may, like that’s a completely normal thing for a teenager to say. you raise a finger in agreement. she laughs in disbelief at you and peter. you’re splayed out on the couch, on a saturday, complaining about doing anything else.

“you two make me feel young.” may’s words are a joke, but her tone isn’t. “you are young, may,” you reassure her and smile a little. peter says nothing. his eyes become hooded as he settles into you more. “look at you two, like some old married couple,” may gestures to you from where she’s standing. she smiles this time.

peter’s face gets hot from the mention of you being a couple. your heart skips a couple of beats. you’re pretty sure he can tell from how close he is.

“do whatever you want, just not here,” she gets back to the real conversation. peter hides his entire face in your shoulder as a form of protest. you pat his back. “and not each other. unless you’re safe,” may adds. “may, please. no,” he groans out, positive he’s all red now. you blink at her in horror.

may knows what she’s doing. peter isn’t the most subtle person, especially not about liking someone. she’s learned all the signs that her nephew is falling. he’s falling for you. she sees it in you, too. the way your eyes soften when they meet peter’s, how fast you are to hug him back or beam at the silly things he says.

you two spend so much time apart from your other friends, you basically are a couple. you’re just not old or married. the only thing you need is a push to realize that.

“ok, we’re gonna go now,” peter decides and pulls away from you. “god bless,” you say only so he can hear. he chuckles at that, you getting up from the couch. giving him a knowing smile, you grab one of his hands. he lets you pull him to his feet while exhaling. he’s already exhausted. may watches and shakes her head.

peter walks up to give her a quick hug. “enjoy girl’s night. love you,” he murmurs as she squeezes him tight. even though they tease each other a lot, their relationship is really sweet. it’s very telling how a guy treats his mother. well, aunt in this case. that thought has always been in the back of your mind.

“have fun!” you grin at may when her and peter pull apart. he comes back over to you and tugs on your sleeve. “thanks, kids. we’ll be done around eleven,” she lets you know. you’re already getting your shoes on and ready to leave. eleven is a while from now.

“don’t forget an umbrella! it’s drizzling!” may calls after you two. peter grabs hers that’s leaning against the front door. it’s pink with purple polka dots. you giggle at that. “hey, i like pink,” he defends himself and opens the door, letting you out first. you raise your hands in defense, leaving the apartment.

peter waves at may one last time. “good luck, peter,” she tells him once you reach the stairs. he furrows both eyebrows. “good luck with what?” “you’ll see,” may raises her own eyebrows in a way that’s all too familiar to peter. he calls it her face of wisdom.

still confused, peter heads out. he finds you at the bottom of the stairs. you shove your hands in your pockets and push against the door to open it. peter meets you outside, twirling the umbrella between his fingers.

“is there anywhere you wanna go?” he asks as you start to walk. you’re just going down the block for now. “back upstairs,” you sigh out. “i wish. not an option, though,” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. you fumble to pull up your hood. he easily reaches over and does it for you.

“thanks,” you say quietly. “you’re welcome,” peter pats the top of your head for emphasis. “we could just walk around.” “until eleven o’clock? that’s five hours from now,” you laugh out, adjusting your hoodie to block your face. disappointment crosses over his features.

“should’ve brought my suit,” he mutters mostly to himself. linking your arm with his, your eyes widen. “i’m not trusting you to swing me around in this weather.” his bicep flexes when your arm wraps around his own. “what? i’ve done it before, y/n/n. on patrol.” you turn your head towards him.

“didn’t you get hurt last time?” you already know the answer. “sprained wrist and a few cuts,” he grumbles, you humming because you’re right. he’d called you in tears when he got home, scared he broke something. you reminded him he would heal soon and stayed on the phone until he calmed down.

that ended up being the whole night. you’re probably the most supportive of peter being spider-man. you of course worry about the toll it takes, but you understand why he does it. the least you can do is be there for him while he navigates the superhero world. not talk him out of it or scold him for making mistakes, be there.

that’s why he loves his lazy days with you so much. they’re his break, his escape from what he lies awake worrying about most nights. you’ve seen what he has to go through, so you respect that. whatever he needs to do to unwind is fine by you. as long as you get to do it with him.

“then you couldn’t patrol for weeks. you could barely hold a pencil.” your other arm sneaks around his. they’re both hugging him now. “you had to be my note taker,” peter reminisces, a smile making its way onto his face. “that sucked, man. you’re such a perfectionist about them,” you breathe out.

peter flips the umbrella around in a show-off kind of way. “you don’t complain when i send them to you.” he sounds so cocky you can’t help but roll your eyes. he isn’t wrong, though. “whatever. seriously, where should we go?” “uh,” peter’s eyes scan the block for inspiration. they land on a man carrying takeout.

“dinner? not at a restaurant since we’re in sweats,” he adds the last part so you don’t have to. “ooh, let’s go to panera,” you happily squeeze his arm. peter quirks an eyebrow at you. “you’re always hungry after.” “so? we can get dessert, too. we have a while.” that makes his heart flutter. a while with you.

“cool, cool, cool,” he sings to you, leaning into your side as you walk. you giggle and push at his shoulder. “i think we can make it there before the rain picks up.” there’s a clap of thunder right after he says that, like something out of a movie. it’s followed by a heavier rain coming down on you two. you pull at the strings of your hoodie to keep it tighter on your head.

“jinxed it,” you remark, both of you stopping so peter can open the umbrella. “ugh,” he grunts out. his lower lip is between his teeth while he undoes the velcro. he pushes down and watches as the umbrella springs open for you two. “here, c’mere,” peter welcomes you under as he holds it above your heads.

it doesn’t quite fit you both since it’s only meant for one person. you forgot he took may’s. the two of you have to squish together so you can avoid the rain, which is pitter pattering down hard on the sidewalk.

you’re comfortable under here with him. the freezing cold weather outside of the umbrella is hardly an issue anymore.

peter turns to face you, letting out a breathless laugh. “you can take off your hood now.” your arms slip from around his. you remove it from your head and give him a toothy grin. it’s one that’s meant to be over exaggerated. “there’s that pretty face,” peter’s voice gets quieter. unlike what you did, that wasn’t a joke.

your pretty face loses its smile. you’re suddenly very aware of how close peter is to you.

you can see the faint scar on his chin from when he banged it into a wall in your living room. he’d ran straight into it during your two person game of hide and seek. yes, you still play that. it was gushing blood for half an hour.

there are also the thousands of freckles dotting his face, the ones you only notice by looking at him super hard. you try to count them whenever you get bored. peter stares back at you while you fall in love with every tiny detail about him.

he takes the time to admire your lips, not just because they look really kissable right now. because of every curious expression they press into when he does something you can’t believe. your eyes, that he feels a sense of safety and honesty and familiarity every time he looks into. he finds them and feels like he’s home.

“peter?” you speak up after a few moments. your tone is hesitant, as if whatever you’re going to ask will change what you have forever. that’s because it might. it’s silent except for the sound of the rain hitting his umbrella. peter finally answers, almost in a whisper. “yeah?”

“i... i think,” you clear your throat before going on. his eyes trail down to your lips again, then back up to your twinkling ones. even on a gloomy day like this, they could light up the whole sky. “i think i love you,” you get out, a hand over your racing heart. peter gives you a small but sure nod. “i think i love you, too.”

he takes a step closer to you, if that’s even possible. his hand without the umbrella comes up to hold your cheek. you watch as he uses his thumb to wipe away a few stray rain droplets. your head tilts to the side, lips parted on instinct. peter leans in until his lips just brush yours, letting you decide what comes next.

you choose to close the space between you two. his eyes squeeze shut, whole face scrunched up when he kisses back. this is a release of all the emotions he’s been holding in that he didn’t even realize he had. you slip into a rhythm, using the angle to move your lips against peter’s.

his hand drops from your cheek to your jaw to support you while you kiss. your own hands grab his biceps, fingers pressing into him, depesrate to have him in your arms. peter lets out a content sigh against your lips before detaching them. it’s not for long. he comes right back in after taking a breath.

you get one long peck from him, then another that’s softer than the last. you give him a short kiss back, lips curving into a smile when this one ends. peter’s thumb smooths over your jawline while he searches for your eyes. he grins at you and tightens his grip on the umbrella handle. he’s surprised it didn’t blow away in the midst of your mini makeout.

“i definitely love you, peter,” you state so genuinely, hands on his shoulders now. that has to be peter’s favorite sentence he’s ever heard. the most beautiful combination of words, said by you to him. “i definitely love you, y/n,” peter agrees, punctuating his statement with one last kiss. you haven’t stopped smiling when his lips meet the corner of yours.

may was right about two things that night. you needed the umbrella for that huge storm, but it did more than protect your from the rain. it also brought you and peter together in a way. the second thing she was right about was that peter loves you, and every feeling he has mirror yours for him.

actually, she was right about three things. you two have to get out of the apartment more often.

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fluff #marvel #peter parker fluff #spiderman #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

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