#go take a look at his hairline in each film

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully��� had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader

[shuuuuush]

DUMB EXCUSES [NIKO HEADCANNONS]

Summary: All of Niko's dumb excuses to be near you or do things with you

Warnings: none

A/N: Starting of short for Niko, then full fics I promise! Gotta write for my boy Niko, can't believe I've neglected him 😔😔

*** ***

*** ***

DUMB EXCUSES FOR HOLDING YOUR HAND

Honestly you don't know when he decided to start holding your hand all the time, you haven't even started dating when you did.

"Your hand looks heavy let me hold it for you." was a classic excuse he would use with you. It was cheesy, yes, but it got you to hold hands with him regardless. Making him smile like a cutie.

When walking on the side walks he would hold your hand, just to "make sure no one tries to kidnap you on the side of the road"

He would also walk on the outer edge of the sidewalks as well while doing so.

When you did finally start dating, holding hands was one of his key agreements in the relationship.

Sitting beside each other? Holding hands. In the car driving? Holding hands. Well, one hand on the wheel the other with you ;)

STAYING CLOSE TO YOU IN A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE

When you're at a party with the beta squad or filming a video, especially mafia. Niko always seems to be by your side.

Magically, always teleports to your side, and when you laugh, you automatically clutch someone's arm next to you. And Niko wanted to be that person, so you best believe he's sitting next to you or standing beside you.

And if you're at a party, he would definitely stay by your side. If any guys try to hit you up, he's scaring them away with 1. His height and 2. The fact that he can look intimidating when he wants to.

And it will kill the other guys ego off instantly and make him avoid you for the rest of the night.

Speaking of parties, if you didn't like them much and wanted to step outside for a bit of air. He would come with you, and he would make sure you had a good time, whether that would be going to eat somewhere or just staying under the moonlight in each others arms.

He would want you to be comfortable at all times.

BRUSHING HANDS UNDER THE TABLE

This is when you were dating because if you weren't, best believe Niko ain't getting much courage to do this.

He's a brave guy, but when it comes to you, you honestly take that courage away when you weren't dating, of course. But now that you are, he's gonna be impressing you left and right and "trying to be the bigger man." (Last part was in chunkz words)

Sometimes, if you both were at a gathering, when he was bored, he would take your hand and just draw on it with his finger to pass the time.

Or just squeeze your hand, signalling to you that he wanted to leave, but wanted to be discreet about it. So you would make up something awfully more important than this, to excuse both you and Niko and off you go, you've escaped the boredom!

I'll leave it to you to can guess where you end up ;)

DUMB EXCUSES FOR STEALING GLANCES

When you first met, he would've looked at you a lot. Most likely stunned by your beauty, and you would often catch him looking at you and then looking away faster when you caught him, almost always earning a small giggle from yourself.

If you're right next to him and caught him looking at you, he would come up with an excuse since he knew he wouldn't get away with saying nothing.

His excuses would either consist of violations:

"Oh, sorry, I just thought I saw a rat infestation right in front of me."

"Can I have the name of your hair salon? I need to know where not to go."

"You do a great job combing your hair. It’s impressive how you’re able to hide the receding hairline." "Yeah, I learnt it from you."

Or would consist of him stupidly denying it:

"Yeah, you're imagining things because I was just scratching my eye, and you happened to be in front of my view."

"I was looking behind you. Not at you." "Niko, you're behind me..."

Taglist: @b4tasquad @p3drii @n1kodl @elora-k @slutforpablogavi @enhacolor

#shuuuuush fics #beta squad #niko omilana #niko omilana x you #niko omilana x reader #beta squad x reader #niko omilana headcannons #niko omilana imagines

[carolmunson]

eddie munson x fem!reader | steve harrington x fem!reader

COMING SOON TO THEATERS. A FANFICTION ADAPTION OF ACADEMY AWARD WINNING FILM 'TITANIC' WRITTEN BY:

@loveshotzz @newlips and @carolmunson

ORIGINAL SCREEN PLAY + FILM WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JAMES CAMERON. ALL OF THOSE ICONIC SCENES AND LINES ARE, OF COURSE, CREDITED TO WHOM CREDIT IS DUE: JAMES CAMERON

PREVIEW:

Wednesday, April 10th, 1912 Southampton, London

The blare of the fog horn is unmissable, rattling the conversations in a small pub off the White Star Dock. Even through the dusty windows she was clear as day, big as anything anyone had ever seen. Large black body met with a red base, multiple decks, and four large smoke stacks. The ship seemed to go on forever, her beauty unmatched to anyone who had seen it – a behemoth on the seas. A glory – a masterpiece.

The doors of the pub fluttered open and closed all morning as it edged closer and closer to noon. Pints poured by the dozens, the hundreds – half the country coming to the piers to see off the Ship of Dreams and its passengers. The bar was alight with chatter, mixing in with the roar of people from outside — hundreds of people halfway to boarding, waving and kissing goodbye. Beer glasses clinked and people cheered while they watched a long line of high end cars gleam in the spring sun as they rolled down the dock. Precious cargo full of Europe and America’s elite. 

Reporters and bellhops alike flock to them like flies, pub patrons ogling through the dusty windows while they exit their buggies.

Among the commotion, the endless chatter and screeching of pub seats, sat four men oblivious to the spectacle. They’re sitting around a small table with sweat on their brows as the April sun pours golden over them. Eyes burning over their cards as cigarette smoke wafts over their heads — the players lost in the fog during an intense round of poker.

The pot was mostly meager — a few pounds and swaths of change, a pocket watch, a penknife. But in the center was the crown jewel, a prize that would change the winner’s life forever. Two pieces of pressed parchment reading: 

The men leer over their hands, not a friendly face between them — the tickets were not the dealer’s, but two of the players who had bet the wrong guys. Guys who had been beyond the break and back again, meeting in Morocco, then Paris, and traveling together back to London — guys who had never lost a game of poker. 

Eddie places his bet, pulling a small silver ring off of his right ring finger and tossing it in the center. 

“Are you kidding?” Jeff asks from his left, “That’s everything we have.” 

Eddie grins at him, taking a drag of his cigarette. The sun dances in his big brown eyes like he knows something the rest of them don’t, “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” 

The two other players speak to each other heatedly in Swedish after one of them hits for a new card. The outburst makes it clear that things aren’t looking good for the Swedes — it makes Eddie’s heart leap. Maybe this is it, maybe he’s finally gonna get back to the states. “Sven?” he asks the man next to him. “Hit,” he replies, putting down a card and taking another. Eddie follows suit, furrowing his brow while his bangs meet his eyelashes. Sweat collects on the nape of his neck where his dark curls are twisted up in a graphite drawing pencil – a trick he picked up from women he met in France. He puffs the smoke from his mouth, eyes meeting the Swede across from him who looks like he couldn’t be having a worse day. 

“Alright,” he says, putting his cigarette down on the ashtray between then, “Moment of truth. Somebody’s life’s about to change.” 

He leans back in his chair and looks at his friend, sweat beading at the edge of his hairline and glinting off of his deep skin, “Jefferey?” 

Jeff throws his cards down with a roll of his eyes. “Nothing,” Eddie nods. 

“Nothing,” Jeff says curtly through a grit in his teeth. His heart pounds in his chest while he looks at the last of their money on the table – they can’t afford to lose. 

“Olaf?” Eddie asks, the Swede throws down his cards in a huff, “Nothin’.” 

“Sven?” 

Sven puts down his cards and Eddie frowns, “Oh…two pair.” 

His shoulders droop while he looks at his own cards, eyes lingering on the silver ring in the middle of the table, “I’m sorry, Jeff.” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” You idiot! You bet all of our bloody money! You imbecile, you–”

“I’m sorry, you’re not going to be able to visit your cousins in Paris again for a long time,” Eddie says with a serious edge. Jeff quirks his brow, triggering Eddie’s winning smile behind plush pink lips. 

“‘Cause we’re goin’ to America!” he exclaims, slamming his cards down on the table, “FULL HOUSE, BOYS!” 

Jeff leaps from his chair in the back of the pub, reaching for the tickets on the on the table, “WE’RE GOIN’ TO BACK TO AMERICA!” 

“I’m goin’ home!” Ed exclaims while the boys hug tightly. The pub cheers for them, pints still flowing — men and women with red cheeks having no idea what they’re cheering for until a fight breaks out between the Swedes. 

Eddie laughs, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder and Jeff does the same — their white shirts dirtied with the stains of the day before.

“I can’t believe it,” Jeff says, teeth shining in a grin across his face, “Goin’ back to America!” 

“Titanic’s going back to America, boys,” the barkeep says, pointing at the clock, “In five minutes!” 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #titanic au #stranger things au #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #steve x reader

[shellbells-things]

What. A. DAY. (Or couple of days…) First, everyone was in an uproar about Jungkook’s song. I won’t lie, my eyebrows went up to my hairline when I heard the rap lyrics. They just seemed so…aggressive. And very un-Jungkook like. Fortunately, there is a version without those lyrics! The song is catchy and will most certainly go viral.

But just when we were catching our breath from the song drama, we were suddenly bombarded with videos that supposedly showed Jungkook in his apartment, aggressively back hugging and chasing a pregnant woman. Also, we got a bunch of accusations about him supposedly harassing woman at work, acting inappropriately at a Karaoke bar, and sexually harassing waitresses. I mean talk about piling on!!! Someone is working EXTRA hard to try and basically ruin Jungkook, and oh-so conveniently on the day of his new song release. Hmmmm….does this remind you of anything? Didn’t some assholes break into Jimin’s apartment, steal his mail and hide it so that he got behind on his insurance payments and then waited until his new OST was released to post a story in the press? All designed to distract from his new song and bring the fandom down on his head. Sounds like the same playbook to me.

Regarding the alleged Jungkook video. I see a lot of people saying the video could be Jungkook, and that they will accept it if it is. I see people blindly accepting this crap. And I’m just…floored by that. Everyone is so afraid of looking like the cult that they refuse to question and investigate? That they immediately forget 10 years of Jikook behavior that makes it clear that they are something special to each other? Excuse me?

People. There is NOTHING wrong with scoffing at this. The blurriness of the video is purposeful. Designed to give the impression of Jungkook without actually showing details that could prove it’s him (unlike the Taennie videos from Paris, which were crystal clear). I mean, we’ve got satellites in space that can zoom in on a pimple on your nose and clearly show it. You’re telling me an iPhone camera or a telephoto lense couldn’t do a better job than this mess? There are a lot of inconsistencies in these videos that I won’t get into, but you get my point.

Please don’t be afraid to question. Truth seeking is a good thing!! Go ahead and draw pictures to help you better understand the apartment layout. Take screen grabs and circle things that don’t match. Talk it out with your friends! And no. This doesn’t make you like the cult, it just makes you someone who supports Jungkook and wants to make sure that you are giving him every benefit of the doubt. Once you’ve done your due diligence, then you can make your mind up based on 1) what you already know about Jungkook and 2) what the facts and circumstances you’ve reviewed show. And let’s be real about this. The person who took the video didn’t just luck into being there at the exact right moment. Either they were straight up stalking the people they were filming or more likely, the scene was set for the purpose of filming this “gotcha”moment.

The bottom line is this. Regardless of whether you believe the video is legit or a lie, someone is trying really hard to hurt Jungkook. And none of us should be ok with that.

I know what I DO believe in, and it’s this:

#jimin and jungkook #jikook #minkook #kookmin #asking question is a good thing #don’t be afraid #trust your gut

[because-of-a-friend]

Should I Hold Your Hand?

MASTERLIST

Not me completing the Halloween fics in May... Oops. I’m trying to be better with my time management guys, it’s just a little hard because I started writing four books at once because I’m stupid I guess??? But I’ve hit sort of a lull with those projects so I’m gonna start working on some drafts here to pick myself back up! Let’s just consider this as me being super early for the next Halloween season lol

Thanks for the request anon! Hope you like it! I only have three drafts left after this one and then I’ll start answering inbox requests! 

Remember gifs aren’t mine, link to OP is on the bottom if you want to go give the original creator some love!

SORRY I LET THIS ACCOUNT DIE FOR AWHILE GUYS :((((

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: People watching a scary movie and getting a lil scared, let me know if I missed any!

You and Wonwoo had only been official for around a week

He had asked you if he could be your boyfriend after only a few dates

Which meant despite officially being your boyfriend

The two of you were still in the stage of learning about each other and trying to fit into each other’s lives

Which is why you frantically readjusted everything in your house over and over and over again before he came over for movie night

“I should put the throw pillows on the couch and the blanket on the chair”

...

“No that’s stupid, it should be the other way around”

You wring your hands as you walk around and inspect any part of the house he might be in as if you’ll stumble upon a giant mess you had somehow missed while cleaning

You set out snacks and drinks and just hope your new bf will have a good time

Three sharp knocks sound on your door and you practically sprint to open it

“Hi!” you greet, trying not to sound so nervous over him being in your house for the first time

“Hey, babe,” he gives you one of his winning smiles before leaning in to kiss your cheek

He looks so darling in his hoodie and sweats and you’re just so excited to have a casual night in with him

The two of you spend a good amount of time snacking and talking about your days

Wonwoo keeps subtly scooting closer to you on the couch and you’re practically grinning at the action

Your knee is resting on his thigh by the time he finally asks you what movie you had planned on the two of you watching

“Oh... well I don’t know if you like horror movies but...”

You trail off and try to guage his reaction

Wonwoo smiles at you, “The boys make me watch whatever they want, we can watch anything you want”

He leans up to brush his thumb across your hairline

Your heart skips a beat at the action and you lean away quickly to grab the remote and hope he doesn’t see how flustered you got over one touch

He does notice but he keeps the wide smile on his face to himself, willing it to reduce once you turn back towards him

For the first twenty or so minutes of the movie, Wonwoo is just trying to find ways to get closer to you, hardly even paying attention to the screen in front of him

He settles for pressing his side against yours and picking up snacks that are on your side of the coffee table so he has an excuse to lean over you and set his hand on your knee- even if it’s just for a second

But then the movie suddenly gets really intense really quickly

Enough to grab both of your attentions away from taking chances to steal glances at each other

Wonwoo realizes that your taste in horror movies might be outside his wheelhouse- in fact it’s even a little more intense than the movies that the horror fanatics in the dorm watch

He starts to feel a little nervous as his mind wanders with all the scenarios the movie presents

The next time you feel Wonwoo’s hand on your knee, it is significantly warmer

You turn quickly to face him, wondering if he’s getting sick

But you’re met with the sight of Wonwoo absolutely enraptured with the film, his eyebrows in a deep furrow

He’s pulling his bottom lip inwards to chew on it

It makes you want to pull him into your arms straight away but you resist, you already knew Wonwoo preferred to be the one to initiate physical contact and also preferred for it to be short and sweet and you didn’t want to push it with the relationship being so new

So you let him keep his hand on your knee and continued to check on him every few minutes 

His grip keeps tightening on your leg until you finally decide to speak up

He jumps when you say, “We can watch something else”

You laugh a little in surprise at his reaction

“Wonwoo are you ok?”

He nods and smiles at his own reaction

“Sorry, I guess I just got too wrapped up in the movie. It’s ok, we can keep watching!”

“Are you sure? I didn’t even ask what kind of movies you like...”

“[Y/N], baby, it’s really ok.”

...

“Should I hold your hand?”

Wonwoo turns red at your question and ducks his head ever so slightly

He lifts his hand up from your knee, enough for you to slip your hand into his

It’s hot and sweaty and so uncomfortable but it’s still one of the best moments from the beginning of your relationship

Wonwoo uses this connection between the two of you as leverage to pull you closer as the movie continues and increases in fear factor

It doesn’t go unnoticed by you

You finally invite him in by opening your arms up and giving him the freedom to accept the embrace or turn away

Wonwoo grins as he settles into your arms

You talk him through the movie, trying to tell him jokes to keep him happy while you stroke his hair

It’s only when the credits are rolling that you notice he’s sleeping

You selfishly stay there for awhile, appreciating the way he snuggles into you and presses his nose against your neck

But you remember him saying that he has to be awake early the next morning

He needs to get back to the dorm so he can get a good night’s sleep

You start tracing a finger up and down his back

“Wonwoo,” you coo, “you have to get home”

He groans before fitting his arms around your waist and squeezing

You ruffle the hair at the back of his head, “Wonwoo, hey, get up”

He groans again, digs his nose further into your neck before finally relenting and sitting back

You help him brush his hair out of his face

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep”

“No complaints here” you gesture to his arms still around you

Wonwoo gives you a goofy smile before leaning in and brushing his nose against yours before fully getting up off the couch

You follow him into the kitchen and get him a glass of water

“I’m still sorry, though,” Wonwoo keeps a grip on your sleeve as he follows you around, “I’ll plan another date night for us soon”

“Then I definitely have no complaints”

Wonwoo surprises you one last time as he says goodbye, sneaking a hand around your waist and pulling you into him

His lips meet yours and in his sleepy state, he shamelessly gives you a heated and intense kiss

You’re breathless when he pulls away

He gives you a tired smile before walking out the door and promising the text you soon

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo scenario #jeon wonwoo fic #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen #svt #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenario #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #svt imagine #svt fanfic #svt scenario #svt fic

[jwolf85]

Happy Halloween y'all!

This year I have felt a severe lack of Werewolves out of the monsters being talked about. So, I'm gonna rate some classic werewolves from Film!

Werewolf of London (1935)

Rating: 7/10

Universal's (slightly forgotten) first go at a werewolf movie, and it has a surprisingly sick design! Henry Hull's eyes are terrifying and complex, giving it a great strength compared to other monsters. The wrinkles around the nose and mouth add another twisted feel to it! However, the V on the hairline is a bit too deep in a way only Vegeta could challenge, and the eyebrows have an odd flair to them. Also, not down with a werewolf that actively dresses himself when he goes out on his hunting. Went down a point because of it. If we had a more of a beast-like nature with this as a base design, would've added some more points. Nonetheless, very underrated design!

The Wolf Man (1941)

Rating: 6/10

I get it, it's iconic and all. The nailed the transformation, nailed the behavior, but he looks more like a teddy bear than a wolf. We're all thinking it. I'm sorry. I respect Lon Chaney for everything he's done in regard to the character and what the movie accomplished. Not a fan of the design overall. However, the sunken shape around the eyes is pretty dope. And design choices aside, the movie is my favorite of the Universal Monsters!

The Curse of the Werewolf (1961)

Rating: 4/10

Now I have not seen this film, but every shot I have seen of this Werewolf is radiating drama. I expect nothing less from a Hammer film. But as for the design itself, a very bold move to go with white hair for the fur and works well distinguishing it from the werewolves preceding it. However, as for the ears on top of his head, I don't think it works quite as well. It makes it lean more towards cat rather than wolf. The forehead is very prominent and while it definitely works to intimidate, the hair line is a bit too far up on his scalp. Having too much of a round outline where the hair meets the face almost makes it look like a normal face photoshopped on in some stills.

American Werewolf in London (1981)

Rating: 6/10

I'm not too big a fan of the more-wolf-than-man werewolf myself tbh. However, Rick Baker does masterful work and this ugly mf'er is absolutely terrifying. Taking the design into consideration, the main issue I have for it is he doesn't have much of a neck. With the big tuff of fur, giving it a mane of sort, the body looks almost like a big bob with a face coming out of it. This is without a doubt, one of the very best transformation scenes in film history! Taking the Jaws approach of obscuring the monster is incredibly effective as well.

You know what, Fuck it. 7/10 for the transformation scene in account.

The Howling (1981)

Rating: 7/10

1981 was a solid year for werewolves! Seems like this is where we're getting into the switch to more-wolf-than-man werewolves, I assume because of the advances of make-up and costuming effects. Putting my bias aside, look at this mangy bastard!!! Brilliant! The eyes look almost demonic, glazed-over and possessed. The hair is unkept and wild! My big reservation that keeps it from getting a higher rating is the ears look a bit like a mangy rabbit.

Teen Wolf (1985)

Rating: 3/10

This movie is the balls man!! Fuckin rocks! Werewolf doesn't look good, but who cares! He's standing on a moving bus and playing air guitar!! Badass. My main issue is that the hair in both the beard and head go way too long.

Monster Squad (1987)

Rating: 5/10

I wasn't gonna include this one, but I work where it was filmed (WB). Very creative and different in the face design, so gotta respect it for that! It's closer to being a wolf monster, but doesn't fully just try to emulate a wolf. Which I like. The eyes may be a bit too far apart from each other and at times you can tell the head is a bit too blocky when it moves. The bottom half in its legs aren't interesting at all either. There's a lot going on in the top half but when it's a full body shot, it just kinda looks like a dudes regular legs with hairy feet. I do really love the white eyes!!

Van Helsing (2004)

Rating: 8/10

I would be lying if I said this movie did not play a part in why werewolves are my favorite monster. It's a very uneven movie(I'll save those thoughts for another time), but the werewolves were badass all the way through. Cgi has definitely aged, but I think it's a solid standard of what the more wolf-like werewolves should be.

The Wolfman (2010)

Rating: 9/10

I love this design. It's a fantastic adaptation of Lon Chaney's style, but updated with the advancements in make-up. The nose is a similar style, but is not as long and narrow and has a strong shape to it that complements the brow. The eyes are phenomenal, in this picture specifically, it captures the intensity of Henry Hull's 1935 design. But throughout the film, there's still the glimpse of humanity still left in the same way Lon Chaney has. I do have an issue with the hair on his head and neck. The hair on his neck is too thick where the silhouette kinda loses form a bit. Regardless, Rick Baker, still a master.

Werewolf by Night (2022)

Rating: 8/10

The cinematic presentation of this is incredible! From the transformation shadow to the darkened figure with the reflective glow of the eyes, it artistically uses the black and white to its advantage. The design is very reminiscent to the 1935 Henry Hull Werewolf in London, with the flair of the eyebrows and the darkened indentations shaping the face. It also does the wolf/dog nose in a unique way! Darkened eyes was a great makeup choice. My only major complaint is that the body(and specifically the shoulder) hair looks kind of like a fur coat he's wearing and not like it's coming from his skin. Also, the way he moves is incredible! Great action and agility!

If you made it this far, you're cool and I hope you enjoyed reading my ramblings on werewolves. I could only fit 10 here, so I'd love to hear thoughts on either these werewolves or more that I couldn't fit in here!! I love monsters!! Also, once again, Happy Halloween🎃!!!

#wolfman #werewolf #monster #universal #lon chaney #rick baker #werewolf in london #american werewolf in london #curse of the werewolf #teen wolf #monster squad #the howling #joe dante #van helsing #werewolf by night #hugh Jackman #gael garcia bernal #marvel #movie monsters #wolf #man #wolf man #Frankenstein #dracula #makeup #visual effects #werewolves #rating #halloween #horror

[the-badger-mole]

Film Noir AU 3

The set lasted about 45 minutes, but by the time Kitty took her final bow and left the band to play alone for the rest of the night, it felt like I'd only been sitting in that booth for a few moments. I've never been the sentimental type who gets lost in music, but between the band and Kitty's voice, it was...well, almost magical. I'd asked for a glass of water while I waited. Maybe that Jun dame slipped a Chong in my drink.

Kitty finally made her way over to my table, looking like danger in that red number she was wearing, and if it don't beat all how she managed to make the satins and velvets of the booth look real just by sitting down in it.

"Quite a voice you got there," I said as she settled in. "Makes me wonder why you're only covering instead of headlining." Kitty just shrugged.

"I've never been one to want the limelight all the time, Detective Kaji," she said. She brought her long, chestnut curls over one shoulder and tilted her head, exposing her long graceful neck in a move I'm sure she's practiced. "Besides, it's my name on the joint. I figure that's all the notoriety I need."

"Perhaps," I said. I sat back in my seat and thought of what to say next. The band was still on stage, playing some haunting melody. Between the music and the smokey haze around the room, I felt like someone was trying to cast some sort of spell. It was a good thing I had a strict no drinking policy while I was on the job, or I might've found myself too ossified to do what I came to do.

"Ms. Arnaq," I said, taking a long breath in. "Are you sure this is where you want to have this conversation?" Kitty raised an eyebrow at me and her entirely too enticing ruby lips turned up into a small smile, as if I'd just told her some amusing anecdote.

"Not at all, Detective," she said. "I just thought it'd be rude to ask you to come all this way and not at least offer you something to eat." She looked at the empty table between us, and then back at me.

"I don't make a habit of eating on the job," I told her. She sighed and then stood up.

"Then I suppose we can continue this meeting in my office." Kitty lead me away from the main dining room and into a room backstage.

Kitty's office, like the rest of the joint, had the air of borrowed finery. The dim light made everything look as rich and supple as the woman who ran the place, but beneath the smell of fresh flowers and gin, there was a slight musty odor. Not altogether unpleasant, but clearly indicating that Kitty hadn't been the first to lay claim to the velvet seats and intricate rug. I took the guest chair in front of the wide, wooden desk. I expected Kitty to sit in the highbacked chair on the other side, but instead she perched on top of the desk itself and crossed her legs. Dame had a set of gams that make a lesser man spend his last coin to keep her in all the furs and silks she wanted.

"Well, Ms. Arnaq," I said after a moment. "Any ideas who might want to cause harm to your brother?"

"Ha!" Kitty gave an unladylike snort that made me like her better. "Who doesn't have it in for him? You see, my brother is...very well connected."

"I suppose being the mayor will do that," I said. Kitty's brow arched high into her hairline, but I'll give her credit. That was the only show of surprise on her face.

"I see you're very good at your job," she said.

"It's why I get paid so well," I smirked at her. "Clever idea changing your last name. It took me a bit of digging to figure out the connection between Mayor Sokka Imiq and Katara Arnaq the soju-joint owner." For a moment- just a moment- Kitty looked rattled she crossed her arms and rubbed her elbows.

"I go by my mother's maiden name, and my brother kept the family name," she told me. "We decided a long time ago that the fewer people who know we know each other the better. My brother...well, he's good for this city."

"And you?" I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

"I keep folks entertained," she said with a shrug. "The best of society has been in my establishment- not that you'd ever get them to admit to it. It gives those that are considered the worst the opportunity to plead their cases without the complications of law getting too involved."

"I see," I said. "And being the mayor, your brother is..."

"He has necessarily kept his distance," Kitty said. "But he's more or less turned a blind eye to what I'm doing. I'm one of the few joints that hasn't been raided. My brother knows what I do is ultimately beneficial to his cause."

"And that cause is?" I was definitely intrigued. Kitty leaned forward, closing some of the distance I'd left.

"An end to the mob's hold on the city."

Part 1, Part 2

#zutara #atla #film noir au #zuko #the hard boiled detective #katara #the mysterious femme fatale #i wrote the first part of this in 2021 #imagine my surprise to find this as a prompt on the au bot twitter #au bot plots #au bot prompts #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

[case-57-with-the-enclosure]

Chapter 4

of lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting!

( 1 & 2, 3)

"For a long moment, Grian stares at them, mind as fresh and blank as new snow. It feels like he’s circling something, drawing inexplicably closer to its event horizon with each new revolution– like any minute now it will pull him in, and he’ll fall, forever tumbling to regain his balance."

oh the spiral,,, love the use of event horizon here hell yeah

"It only takes a few simple ingredients to invert a healing potion. All he needs after that is a little time to brew them, when nobody else is looking."

extremely personally attacked bc -and this might shock you /s- my special interest is this block game and as soon as Tango mentioned potions the entire chart popped up on my brain.

this one, almost exactly. backstabbed by my own autism once again

"Three or four." Grian keeps his face carefully neutral. "I dunno, maybe five?"

WHATS THAT LIKE, 15 HEARTS OF DAMAGE? 30 IF HE GIVES HIM HEALING II???? GRIAANNNN

"It's a familiar tic, and the aching thing in Grian's chest spiderwebs out in fragile fractures. He's never enjoyed lying. Half-truths, sure, and he's always loved a good loophole– but outright lying? That's not his normal style. Tango is right, five is an absurd number– it's a miracle he's even entertaining the thought."

"spiderwebs out in fragile fractures." AUGH oh how i love literature fuck yeah. that hurt

"But five will be enough to make sure. No last minute resurrections, no sudden rescues. Just himself, the void, and the universe they all belong to. He wonders if it will sing to him as his code falls apart."

*dies*

"You weigh like, nothing, dude," Tango informs him, and there's a little hitch in his voice Grian doesn't want to parse. It makes something in his chest shudder and curl up, tight and cold. "What the hell."

there's something so infinitely funny to me about the direct contrast between the narration and the dialog- its like tango is a muppet starring on a Noir film. very good.

Grian's chuckle is a small, reluctant thing, breaking in his throat midway, but Tango's entire demeanor brightens as if he'd burst out into howling laughter. Something swells in the air around them, and it takes a moment for Grian to pinpoint that feeling as hope.

HEAD IN HANDS orz I'M- (sobs) I'm a weak man i see hope and i go nuts

Maybe it's the knee-jerk fear that makes Grian do it, the bone-deep terror that this will somehow pollute his resolve– or maybe it's just cruel impulse. Either way, this question has been spinning in his mind ever since they found him in the void, and Grian blurts it out before he can swallow it back down. "Why are you even here?"

i loooooove dread and terror man, hooting and hollering for cruel impulses

"I'm serious, man." Tango sets his jaw, then heaves a sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. One foot taps anxiously against the wooden floor. "It's… okay. Okay, I’ll admit it. It's actually because of Jimmy." It takes a beat for that to sink in. When it does, Grian’s eyebrows rocket into his hairline, incredulous. "Tim?"

gay people?? on my block game????? more likely than you think

ok i didn't grab any specific fragments of Pearl's appearance but oh boy oh buddy oh fuck if my back didn't tense up :^> ass clenched i fear

====================================

Closing Thoughts

i know it will get worse before it gets better. but i can't help but to hope and i think that's a wonderful thing to achieve while writing angst <3

i have the urgent need to do ANYTHING minecraft-fiction related, so i might start workshoping something with my friends and i's mc ocs :Dc idk im inspired

#✒️ fic dissection 🔬 #posting this one next to chap 3 bc i don't know how to wait for things #lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart)

[hectormcfilm]

NAPOLEON

Ridley Scott's newest historical drama has hit the big screen to a very mixed critical reception. On the lead up to this film I was very excited, loving both the director and lead actor. I was expecting some strong Oscar contenders in this film until the early reviews came out and it was mostly along the lines of mediocre to good nothing amazing but I still went in with relatively high expectations. Personally I think this film is good... but not great.

I'm going to start with the positive aspects which for me mainly shine within two sequences, the battle on the ice and the invasion of Russia. The battle on the ice is a perfectly tense battle scene, it is slow and methodical and really gives a great sense of Napoleon's systematic nature and his pure tactical genius. The way the music builds up with an ominous ticking clock (as a side note the music throughout this whole film might be the best part, the use of classical and traditional French music is beautiful and so atmospheric). The strategic ways Napoleon's army give messages to each other and ready an ambush, forcing their attackers to retreat and then striking them with their most dangerous and intelligent move of destroying the hidden ice, completely outsmarting and Annihilating the combined forces of Russia and Austria. This sequence is visually gorgeous, tense and satisfying, proving how well Ridley Scott constructs and frames battle scenes, the most spectacular shot being one of a horse charging across the ice dodging cannon balls. The other best sequence is the Invasion of Russia, I adore the way the film becomes desaturated and gains acold colour palette to reflect the harsh winter that defeats his army. The scene of Moscow burning and Napoleon's realisation of complete defeat is riveting.

Disappointingly, I am not as positive about most of the film as these two sequences. I believe Joaquin Phoenix's performance is good but nothing amazing, it feels like he doesn't actually get much to do and his character never felt like he was changing too much both mentally and physically. One major problem I have links to this as despite the story spanning around 40 years Joaquin looks the same age throughout, the only change being a slightly receding hairline. I didn't need him to be recast when younger but some slight makeup or hair change like how Nolan made Cillian seem younger in Oppenheimer flashbacks would've been appreciated. Vanessa Kirby has a very strong performance but her character really let it down for me. Within two short scenes of Napoleon and her meeting where they had little chemistry or dialogue exchanged they are married, then instantly she cheats on him and they argue, it felt like their entire relationship was side-lined and rushed, focusing more on strange and kinky sex scenes between the two that just made me uncomfortable and laugh. I also wish we got to see her final moments instead of her dying off-screen.

Now to get onto my biggest problem with the film... the pacing. The first act of this film was a huge shock to me as it felt like it was trying to speed run through Napoleon's history as if it was a slideshow or a YouTube video explaining his history instead of a deep historical character study. The rapid pacing gave me no time to take in the location or really comprehend what year we were in, similarly character would have no introduction and just appear, being given nothing and most of them becoming forgettable or just disappearing. I definitely believe a longer maybe 3 and a half- 4 hour cut of this film would benefit it greatly as it felt simply like important scenes were cut out.

One smaller issue I have is the lack of accents or foreign languages, there is only one use of subtitles for two lines of German dialogue but no French spoken. Most of the actors even keep their American accents and it feels so jarring and unnatural. Something that tackles this issue well is the Vinland Saga manga where if a character is speaking French they write in French what they say then translate it to English underneath, giving an authentic experience whilst allowing the audience to understand them.

[worstloki]

*youtuber voice* hi! welcome to my blog! today we’re going to be analyzing loki’s inconsistent hairline in the mcu and how it proves loki isn’t dead :D

#you think i'm joking #you fools #loki's hairline is solid evidence that his death was faked #go take a look at his hairline in each film #you'll see what i mean

[duskholland]

Warm | Tom Holland Smut

warnings ↠ nsfw, 18+ ! this is just some very loving c*ckwarming with sleepy boyfriend tom, ft unprotected sex and oral (fem receiving)

word count ↠ a wholesome 3k

a/n ↠ got inspired by the ig live yesterday and whipped up a lil something to satisfy the devil in me. let me know what you think!

The material of Tom’s hoodie is soft against your cheek, and as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, it feels as though the weight of the world is rolling from your shoulders. His hands are on your waist, tucked beneath the hem of your t-shirt and resting gently over the curves of your hips. As you hum against his shoulder, you feel him shift his fingers, tracing delicate, circular patterns over your skin. 

“Your hoodie is so soft,” you mumble against him, punctuating the words with a few soft kisses to the base of his neck. Tom squeezes your sides, bringing his lips to the top of your head where he leaves a lingering kiss to your hairline. “Wish we could stay like this forever.”

One of his hands moves away from your waist, drifting up to cup the back of your head. As Tom’s nimble fingers rest over your hair, he uses his other arm to pull you closer. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, both of you tangled up in sweats and comfy clothes, and the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours makes you sigh contentedly. 

“We can stay like this all day?” Tom offers. He slowly strokes over the back of your head, the gesture full of a gentle tenderness you’d missed. He’s been so busy recently, with filming and press engagements, that it’s been a while since you’ve had time to exist like this. Two people, curled up together, wrapped up in dizzying love. “Missed you so much this week, darling.”

You smile against his neck and finally pull back so you can look at him properly. You’re resting over Tom’s thighs, straddling his green sweats comfortably, and your position gives you the perfect opportunity to get a lovely, long look at your boyfriend’s face. With his pink hood drawn up around his head, you can make out a few strands of his brown hair, long and a little shiny, and you find your fingers drawn towards them. You reach up, smiling at his tut of disapproval as you gently knock the hood down, revealing his bed of messy, chestnut curls.

“Missed you too,” you finally reply, carding a hand through his hair. With your other fingers, you reach out to cup his cheek, grinning as he presses his face into your palm. Tom’s got his eyes wide and flooded with gentle love, and it makes you melt. This man has you wrapped around his little finger. “Missed a lot of things about you, actually.”

“Yeah?” Tom’s lips quirk into a lazy smirk as he draws you a little nearer. He smells faintly of cologne. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know…” As you muse, you let your index finger wander down the bridge of his nose, tracing over the light freckles. “Missed hearing your lovely voice. It always sounds so raspy in the morning like this.” You lean in to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “And I missed your hugs. God, Tom, you give the best hugs.” As if to prove your point, Tom tightens his grip around you. “Missed your lips, too.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” He’s got that cheeky glint in his eyes, and you nod your head immediately. “I think they missed you too, love. Why don’t you pay them a visit?”

The snort that leaves your mouth is a loud burst of twisted sound, but it makes Tom’s smile grow wider. You wind both arms around his neck and shuffle closer, finally bridging the distance and nuzzling your mouth against his. 

Kissing Tom has to be one of your favourite things ever. The way your lips meld together, dancing in sync as he presses against you with eager force always makes your heart race, no matter how long you’ve been together. His lips are warm and gentle, and as they meet with yours in a lazy exploration of mutual enjoyment, you find yourself melting against him. His hands are back on your hips, and they roam the expanse of your naked back as his tongue flicks into your mouth, causing you to groan softly. When he drags his fingers up and discovers your lack of bra, he’s quick to shift his palms around to the front of your body, holding the curves of your breasts in each hand.

“I bloody love you,” he murmurs, speaking against your lips. The pads of his thumbs brush over your nipples and you gasp into his mouth, careening further into his touch. “You’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, lovie.” 

You kiss him with a little more intensity, your heart fluttering in response to his sweet, sweet sentiment. It’s early - the both of you had only woken up a half-hour ago - so Tom’s voice is strained and raspy. The sound of his husky tones brings a thrill of excitement to the heat between your legs. 

As his tongue explores your mouth and your fingers tangle in his hair, you become aware of a building pressure pushing up against your sweats. You start to grind down against him, enjoying both the friction it provides to your clit and also the way the movement draws deep, desperate whines from Tom. 

“You wanna know a secret?” You ask him, pulling away to pant in his ear. When Tom hums, you kiss his earlobe. “Think I might’ve missed your cock, too.”

His chuckle rumbles into the air. “Is that so?” Tom’s hands slip away from your chest, and they anchor down your hips. You hum as he guides you, pushing you further against his crotch as your centres meet. You can feel the outline of his length straining up against you, and the sensation makes you grin. “I’ve missed being inside your tight little pussy.” He leaves a kiss just behind your ear, right over a patch of sensitive skin. “Maybe we should do something about that?”

You almost whine as you nod, eagerly reaching down to release the drawstrings of his sweats. In return, Tom pulls free your own, and there’s a moment of shuffling around as you sit up and carefully wriggle out of both your trousers and your panties, Tom bundling them up and folding them into a neat pile beside him. Once you’re settled, you reach beneath the waistband of Tom’s sweats and pull his full member free, all whilst his hot lips trail up and down the column of your neck. 

There’s no burning desperation to your movements as you slowly work one another up. Rather, it’s gentle. Soft caresses, tender lips, whispered words of praise. You’re kissing him as you slowly slide your hand up and down his shaft, and he’s swallowing your moans with his tongue when two of his fingers slip into your slick pussy and work you open. It’s loving and familiar as he crooks his fingertips and nudges up against your g-spot, stimulating your passage until you’re bucking down against him, your movements distracted as your cunt drips for him.

“Need you inside me,” you moan out, a slight pull to your voice. You whimper as Tom’s hot fingers slip out from inside you, and then gasp when he uses his wet fingertips to rub over your clit. The bud pulses and you almost lose it, but a panging in your cunt reminds you of your overwhelming desire to have him inside you. “Tom,” you whine, skimming your thumb over his weepy tip, “Stop teasing.”

Tom growls into your ear, but he reluctantly moves his fingers away from you. He meets your eyes as he very purposefully brings his hand to his mouth and makes a show of licking his digits clean, moaning softly as he does it. 

“Delicious,” he decides. When you throw him a light scowl, he grabs you by the hips and brings you nearer. “Now,” he says, dropping his voice. His hand joins yours on his cock, and together you guide his head through your slit. You let Tom do the hard work, whimpering quietly as he lines his tip with your entrance. “How about we take care of this little problem, eh?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you slowly, slowly lower yourself over him, tossing your head back as you adjust to the stretch. Tom’s lips move over your neck, sucking a soft hickey to your skin, anchoring you down. The sensation of his member settling deep inside you after so long makes you grab fistfuls of his hoodie, your knuckles tightening around it as you gasp softly.

“Fuck,” you murmur, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You’re fully seated now, and you can feel every ridge and line of his cock pushed up against your walls, as if in high definition. Everything is amplified, and the longer you sit there wrapped up in his arms and with his lips now dusting over your temple, the closer to Tom you feel. “I love you,” you whimper, voice breathless.

Tom runs his hands over your back, soothing you with large circles of his palms. “Love you too, darling,” he mumbles. He shifts a little on the sofa, and you moan as the head of his cock brushes deeper. “Feel so warm ‘n snug around me.”

You feel yourself clench at his words, and make a very conscious decision to loosen up. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you pull yourself away from the crook of Tom’s neck, pouting a little as the soft fabric of his hoodie leaves your face.

“Do you want to stay like this for a little bit?” You ask, eyes skimming his beautiful face. Your heart fills with appreciation for the man as you pick up all the small details that make him so attractive to you: the worn curves of his nose, the splattering of sun-kissed freckles over his cheeks, the ruffled hairs of his eyebrow. Your thumb absently moves up to his eyebrow and you draw your touch across it, feeling the soft hairs with your finger and sighing as you admire him. 

“How long?”

You crane your neck back, glancing briefly at the paused TV. “‘Til the end of the show? Should be about ten minutes.” You move your hand into his hair, feeling the silky strands fall past your fingers. “Just wanna feel close to you.”

Tom presses his lips to the tip of your nose, drawing a loose giggle from you. “Alright,” he agrees. He drops his voice as he shifts his mouth back to your ear, hot breath flushing over your neck as he adds, quieter, “I’m going to wreck you afterwards, though.”

A shiver passes through you, and your hum mixes with the sounds of the TV as Tom immediately unpauses the programme. You can’t see the screen from where you’re sitting, but you turn down Tom’s offer to reposition. The show is the last thing on your mind, and you’re glad you’re not distracted by it. 

For you, there’s nothing more fulfilling than hiding your face into your boyfriend’s shoulder and feeling him everywhere. Hands on your sides, caressing you and drawing you closer. His lips softly passing over the top of your head. His length, plugging you up to the hilt. Each time one of you shifts, you release a quiet whimper as arcs of pleasure roll up your spine, and when you clench in response, Tom grunts. There’s something so easily private about it: no end goal but just to enjoy one another, and spend this quiet moment holed up in each other’s arms. 

You’ve never felt this loved before, and it brings a lump to your throat.

“You okay?” Tom asks, shifting a hand to hold the back of your head. You hum, tilting your face to the side so you can kiss the point behind his ear.

“Yeah. Just really love you.”

His eyes flicker down to meet yours, flooding with concern when he notes the tears spread thinly over your eyes. “You’re so precious,” he lilts, his accent twanging prominently. He brings you nearer, kissing your forehead in several spots. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

You kiss him, letting your hand travel up to rest against his cheek. “Good,” you whisper against him. There’s a dizzying moment where you just look at him, his eyes mirroring yours, flooded deep with gratitude that rocks you to your bones. You feel safe wrapped up in his arms, and as the music for the credits drifts through the air, you find yourself exhaling. “Show’s over.”

“Lay down for me, love.” 

You whimper when you feel his length slide from you, your cunt feeling cold and empty without him, but he kisses at your pout until it fades away. Tom follows you down onto the couch cushions, caging you in with an arm either side your head. After a moment, you feel his cock sliding through your slit again, pressing up against your clit in a way that makes you moan. 

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit, pulling away from a deep kiss with a perplexed expression on your face. 

“Fucking lovely, isn’t it?” Tom gains a rather mischievous look on his face. “Actually…” 

He pulls away before you can grab him to stay, and Tom slips down between your legs with a cheeky smirk on his lips. 

“Tom,” you whine, scrunching your nose. “I want you.”

“In a minute.” He presses your knees apart and leaves a soft kiss to the inside of one of your thighs. “Patience, my darling girl.”

You try your best to look unimpressed, but it’s very difficult to maintain the rouse as he draws his tongue through your slit. You reach down to grip at his hair, pulling him closer as he trails his mouth all over you. He moans straight against your sopping folds, teasing your clit with his tongue as he slides two fingers back into you, exploring your wet heat eagerly.

“Tom,” you cry out, your back arching off the sofa. His free hand immediately goes to your side, pushing you back down and keeping you in place as his mouth explores you. Noises of your wet arousal fill the air as he sucks over your clit, teasing you, edging you until you’re whimpering. “C’mon, Tom, don’t wanna cum like this. Need to be full of you.”

When he pulls back, Tom runs the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the shine of your slick and his spit combined. He cracks a smile when he takes in the fucked-out expression on your face, pulling up until he’s hovering above you once more. One of his hands caresses your leg before loosely opening it up, and the other rests over your hair near your head. He kisses you softly.

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pressing down against him to prove your point. Your voice twists into a gasp as Tom slips into you, the movement easy and slick. Your fingers grip at the back of his hoodie as he rocks against you, your cunt squeezing around him as you take him wholly. “Shit.”

Tom nips at your necks, strands of his hair rubbing up against your hot skin. “So fucking perfect,” he murmurs. He pulls out before fucking back into you with a deep, slow thrust. “Fuck, you’re such an angel.” He leaves another kiss to your neck as he gradually quickens his pace. “My angel, aren’t you?”

You pull him back up, meeting his mouth in response. As you kiss him, his hand on your thigh shifts up and intertwines with one of yours, your fingers tangling as the rest of your bodies do, too. You’re grateful for the contact - keeping you anchored together like an emotional tether, a constant reminder of your love. 

Everything about the moment feels so intimate, his pace slow but still fulfilling. Each time Tom thrusts his hips to meet yours, you feel him in you deep, nudging against those spots only he could reach. Each rut presses you one step closer to heaven, and your praises come out garbled, dissolving into his mouth as his lips caress you, tender and warm. 

Tom pulls away after minutes of deep kissing to stare at you, brown eyes full of warmth. “I’m so lucky,” he stammers out, voice strained. You widen your leg, granting him easier access, and both of you groan as the position lets him in deeper. You can feel that telltale warmth building in the pit of your stomach. “Love of my life, you are. You and your- fuck, your perfect little pussy.” His cheeks are red as he kisses your jaw. “Can’t wait to fuck you for the rest of my life, love.”

His words ignite something inside you that goes much deeper than superficial pleasure, and you find yourself clinging to him, gripping his hand with renewed strength as your other twists down between your bodies. Your fingertips connect with your clit, and you glide them over the bud, moaning louder as you feel your orgasm jerk closer.

“Cum in me,” you find yourself saying, eyes trained on the spot between your legs where Tom’s cock meets with your cunt. “Wanna feel you fill me up.” 

His head finds the crook of your neck, sweaty forehead pushing up against your skin as he grunts. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand as you gasp for breath. “I’m close.”

Tom peaks a few moments later, and the action of his guttural groans spilling into the air coupled with the way his cock pulses as he empties his load inside you makes you spasm over the edge too. You whimper as you orgasm, a throbbing warmth spreading across you as Tom kisses your neck over and over, his fingers gripping yours tightly as you enjoy the high together, basking in it. Your mouth hangs half-open as you vocalise your climax, your body on fire as he fucks you through it, the moment spanning a short infinity.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, finally stilling. He stays nudged up inside you as he sits up, supporting his weight on his arms, your hands still joined. Tom kisses you passionately, and you feel him smile against your lips as you kiss him back. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You bring your free hand up to his head, pushing his hair out from his face as you cup his cheek, looking into his captivating brown eyes. You look at him, and you know that there’s no safer vessel for your heart. You know he’s the love of your life. 

“Love you too,” you say, pausing to kiss him between each word. By the end, both of you are smiling. “You know you’re still in me, yeah?”

Tom chuckles, nodding. “Yeah.” He kisses your nose. “You’re warm.”

-

------

yeah you could say im soft for hoodie!tom...

masterlist linked in bio !

please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts :D askbox is always open; feel free to rb/comment (pls)

stay safe my lovely pals <3

#keyword tonight is: soft #can you tell i missed tom...? lmao #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland #my writing #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #smut

[kookingtae]

in character (m)

pornstar!yoongi

→ scenario: Yoongi is one of the best porn stars in the industry; everyone wants to work with him at least once in their career. But what you don’t expect to feel for your co-star is the desire for something more than what’s written on the script.

alternatively: actor au where yoongi plays a burglar who breaks into your house and has his way with you.

→ word count: 5.7k

→ warnings: dom yoongi, rough consensual noncon, breath play, dirty talk, degradation, a lot of slapping, language, face fucking, choking, size kink, cock warming, predator/prey, sadism, unknowing cuckhold, ur tied up, just pure filth tbh

→ a/n: this was previously posted on a side blog of mine, which i’ve since deactivated and reposted here! so if you’ve seen this before, no u havent ♡

“Take it.” Yoongi hovers over your kneeling form, his member held in his hand as he forces it between your closed lips. “Take my fat fucking cock in your mouth like the little slut that you are.”

“Mmm, can’t,” you mumble a muffled reply, turning your head side to side in an attempt to avoid him. You half heartedly tug at the rope restraining your wrists behind your back even though you know they won’t break loose. “It’s t-too big.”

He lets out a dark chuckle. “Come on. Be a good girl and make it fit.” He finally shoves his way into your mouth, his salty precum coating your taste buds as you welcome the warm, velvety soft flesh of his length against your tongue. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt deep within your throat and your face is pressed against his abdomen, the feeling of his happy trail tickling your skin.

“Swallow,” he demands and you do as you’re told. “I want to feel you choking and gagging around my cock.” He tilts his head back with a groan as your throat tightens around his length. “Ah fuck, atta girl.”

You struggle to pull away again before he finally relents this time. A big gulp of air fills your lungs when your mouth is empty, air freely filling your lungs before your windpipes are suddenly constricted again as he wraps his hand around your throat

“Did I say you could stop, bitch?” He hisses before grabbing the base of his shaft and slapping his dick against your cheeks multiple times. The flesh bounces against the supple skin of your lips, leaving a smear of saliva in its wake before his hand then finds your face for a light slap. He backhands the other side for good measure, eyes lighting up in sadistic pleasure when your slack lips give way as a hole for his dick again.

“Cut!”

You’re instantly brought back to reality. Set lights that were once dim now brighten and the sound of idle chatter from stage crew fill the background. Yoongi releases his fist’s firm hold on your hair to step away as if he hadn’t just been abusing your throat mere seconds ago.

“You alright?” He asks softly as he watches you take in a deep breath.

You nod and flash him a weak smile while you try to quell your racing heart. The urge to wipe your tears is overwhelming, though even if your hands were free you couldn’t give in because the mascara streaming down your face would smear. Instead you turn your attention to the director who stopped the scene.

“Yoongi, I’m going to need you to be a little more rough,” the director speaks from his seat behind the camera.

“More rough?” His brows shoot up to his hairline.

“You’re supposed to be a burglar who has broken into this house and taken Y/N hostage—of course more rough.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to you as if silently checking to make sure you‘re okay with this. When you manage to offer him a small smile and nod your head, that seems to be the confirmation he needs.

“Alright,” he replies.

You’re careful not to move so not to cause issues later on when they edit the shot. “Can I get some water?” You call out.

A crew member comes over with a bottle of water, holding the top to your lips and tipping it back so that you’re still able to drink with your hands bound behind your back. The cool liquid is soothing on your strained throat, and when you let out a hum the crew member removes the bottle and ducks back behind the camera.

“How is everything that I’m doing?” Yoongi turns to you once your mouth is free. “Any discomfort? Complaints?”

You gently shake your head. The difference between Yoongi on and off camera is still astounding; this man is a great actor. “Everything’s fine. Please, don’t worry about me. I can take it.”

Yoongi arches his brow, an almost impressed expression adorning his features. “You must be pretty tough then if you can handle all of that.”

You shrug, your eyes finding his with a gleam as you reply, “I like it rough.”

Before he has time to respond, the director is calling for places again. You quickly clear your throat and mentally prepare yourself for the scene ahead while Yoongi gives his dick a few good pumps before an action! fills the room.

It’s fascinating watching him snap back into character; what was once concern in his eyes is now instantly replaced with predatory satisfaction as his hand finds its way back into your hair at the crown of your head, the tip of his still-leaking cock pressing against your slack lips.

“Now fucking take it,” he grits before roughly shoving it into your throat. “Take it like the whore you are.”

A loud gagging noise leaves you at the sudden intrusion, though the sound only seems to urge him forward as his fist tightens its grip to set the pace of your movements while he holds his hips still and roughly tugs your mouth up and down on his length. You let out another lewd noise whenever you feel his tip hit the back of your throat, though you still manage to hug your lips around his shaft with each motion.

“Ah, good girl. You like choking on my cock?” He slaps your hollowed cheek with his free hand and marvels at the way your skin turns red under his touch. “Yeah? Choke on it, slut.” His hand then finds your nose and squeezes so that he’s holding your breath and the only purchase you have is his member fucking your throat.

Your vision ebbs at the edges from the lack of oxygen filling your lungs, tears now fully streaming down your cheeks to purposefully smear the non-waterproof mascara you’re wearing. Your body starts to involuntarily panic as it struggles for air, and it’s only when your knee subtly nudges his ankle three times—the agreed upon number prior to filming which means you’re at your limit—that he finally releases his hold on your nose and lets you fall back with a staggering cough.

Relief floods you as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet air. The director hasn’t called cut so he must’ve liked the stunt, which means that Yoongi never leaves character as he watches your display with sadistic pleasure.

“So fucking pathetic. I bet that pretty little mouth of yours has never been fucked like this, hm?” He grips your chin between his fingers and drags his thumb across your bottom lip before forcing it between your lips. “Suck,” he orders.

You have no choice but to obey, wrapping your tongue around the digit and hollowing your cheeks.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Look at you. You’re so cock hungry that you’re willing to suck off any part of me. Desperate slut.” One of his hands snakes down to your breasts as he grabs the flesh in a tight grip, groping a couple times before giving them a few slaps and admiring the way they bounce beneath his touch. His thumb then finally slips from your mouth only to find its way around your throat and use the hold to pull you up on your knees again. “If you’re so desperate then you’re going to gag on my dick until I blow my load all over that pretty face of yours, yeah?”

You let out a whimper, playing the facade of a scared hostage as you shake your head pleadingly.

A resounding smack fills the air as his hand finds your cheek again in a harder slap this time, and you can feel the wetness pool between your legs as he manhandles you so that your back is flat against the floor and his hands are holding you down.

“That wasn’t a question. Be a good girl and take what I give to you,” he rasps as he angles his hips over your lifted head and begins fucking your face with quick, precise thrusts. Each assault makes another lewd gagging sound leave your mouth as you have no choice but to take the rough onslaught.

He throws his head back in unabashed pleasure as a loud moan leaves his lips, not even looking at you anymore as his hips continue to buck in chase of his high. He’s using you as a sex toy for his pleasure without a second thought, and you can’t deny the way arousal rolls within you at the sight.

After a few more moments of this your sore throat throbs and your wrists begin to ache as the rope digs into your back, and it’s only when your thigh nudges his three times that he seems to come to and pulls himself out of your mouth.

You cough while struggling a bit to sit up. Yoongi seems to notice this and helps you back to your knees before he’s suddenly picking you up entirely and throwing you on the bed as if you weigh nothing.

“Enough of your mouth. I’ve decided I wanna feel that tight fucking cunt around me instead.” His eyes are dark, dangerous as they watch you like a predator stalking its prey, and you find yourself gulping in equal parts fear and excitement.

“W-wait, please–“ you remember the script enough to whimper, though even you know the acting is a lie as your mouth grows dry when Yoongi crawls over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He hisses before giving your bare pussy a punishing slap. It’s hard to miss the string of liquid arousal that chases his fingers, and he sneers down at you with a condescending tilt of his head. “I knew you were a fucking slut. Look how turned on you are from a stranger tying you up and having their way with you.” He spreads his fingers apart to show you your wetness before he’s reaching forward and shoving his fingers between your lips. “Taste yourself. Taste what I make your body feel.”

The heady flavor of your juices is peculiar on your tongue, though you take what you’re given with big eyes as you stare up at him, your gaze holding for longer than planned as you find yourself unable to look away.

And it’s after a few moments that he suddenly lurches forward and presses his lips to yours in a hard, passionate kiss. You let out a moan of surprise—you hadn’t been expecting that—before your lids are fluttering shut and you’re completely melting beneath him. His tongue is needy as it pushes past your lips to hungrily lap up the taste of both of your arousal mixed together in the caverns of your mouth.

The sensation has you seeing stars, and you let out another groan of pleasure before your back is involuntarily arching to press your chest against his, wanting to feel more of him.

“Cut!”

You hardly even register the director’s voice through the hazy fog of your mind, and it isn’t until Yoongi pulls away that you open your eyes to see the lights and cameras around you. You blink to adjust your eyesight and almost reluctantly turn your head on the mattress beneath you to look at the man in charge.

“There is no kissing in this script.” He holds up his phone to wave the downloaded file that contains this scene’s directions as if to reiterate his point. You were both emailed a copy of the script before you accepted this job. “It’s too intimate. And Y/N, you can’t act like you like what’s happening to you.”

Your cheeks heat up slightly at him calling out your obvious desire that you were trying but failing to contain. “I got it,” you call back half-heartedly. When you face forward again you‘re met with Yoongi’s eyes gazing down at you.

His expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions you can’t comprehend at the moment. “Sorry,” he mouths apologetically since he had been the one to kiss you in the first place.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset, regardless of the director’s criticism.

“Action!” He calls from his seat to start the scene where Yoongi left off removing his fingers from your mouth.

He gives your pussy another slap if only to get back into the rhythm of the scene’s tone, and your body quivers at the sudden sensation.

“No, don’t–“ you try to squirm away from his touch, though the fight only seems to make him angry as he suddenly grabs your body and throws you forward over his lap.

“I told you good girls take what they’re given!” He scolds before a hand slams down over your bare ass, the sting causing you to yelp in surprise. He continues this a few more times, each slap reverberating through the room and leaving a growing red mark on your skin. “Do you like being punished? Wanna be punished by my cock?”

“No–!” You try to shake your head when he’s suddenly shifting you down so that your face is hovering over his erect member.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use,” he growls, gripping the base of his shaft and aligning it with your mouth. Because you’re lying on your stomach your head has nowhere to go but down, and he takes full advantage of that situation as he snaps his hips up so that his cock is being forced down your throat with each thrust.

“Such a good fuck doll. Instead of robbing this house I might just steal you and use you as my personal sex toy,” he groans with a toss of his head, his cock unable to leave your mouth due to the position.

You carefully breathe out of your nose for air as you curl your tongue around his length, inexplicably still wanting to pleasure him despite the situation. Each sound of satisfaction that falls from his lips adds to the growing ache of lust in your core, and when your lower half squirms in an attempt to relieve some of the tension this catches Yoongi’s attention.

His hand finds your ass again in a series of quick slaps, each motion cupping the lower cheek and causing your pussy to quiver in anticipation from his fingers being so close to where you want him most. His palm then smoothes over your reddened skin, admiring his blooming artwork before his touch finally settles between your legs.

“Ah, you put up such a fight but your body responds so well.” A curse escapes under his breath when his middle finger slides between your lower lips.

You let out a muffled whine around him, his hips ceasing their movement to instead explore your body so that you’re now warming his stiff cock with your throat.

“You’re such a good cock warmer,” he muses down at you, swiveling his hips for good measure so that his erection swirls inside you.

The action causes you to gag, a sensation that he likes if the involuntary groan is any tell, but the sore pain in your throat is quickly forgotten when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you.

“Holy shit, you’re tight!” The words leave his lips in pure surprise that cannot be faked.

You wish you could see the genuine reaction on his facial expression, but instead your eyes squeeze shut at the sexual relief that fills your core from finally having some part of him inside you. Oh, how badly you want to beg him to keep fingering you, to cry for his cock and bask in the pleasure he’s giving your body.

But alas, you can’t. You have a part to play.

And so you rock your hips back and forth in what is meant to look like an effort to force his fingers out of you when really you’re just riding them for relief.

Yoongi seems to be in awe above you, and you don’t even have to nudge him three times to make him lift you up off his dick and onto the bed.

You pathetically gasp for breath once there’s nothing obstructing your airways, not realizing how badly you needed oxygen until you’re finally able to breathe properly.

“Enough of this. I’m fucking that tight little cunt right this second.” His tone is dark, determined as he stands on the floor and drags you to the edge of the bed. “On your knees,” he barks coldly.

You resist the urge to desperately obey him, instead fighting back fearfully until he finally manhandles your body into the position he wants you with your ass in the air and your face pressed into the mattress.

“Stop, y-you’re too big!” You start to protest once you feel his tip breaching your walls.

He instantly smacks your ass as punishment. “Sex dolls can’t talk. I’m gonna stretch you so much you rip in half on my dick if that’s what it fucking takes.” And with that he slams into you full force without a second warning.

Despite the scene at hand, Yoongi is a good, smart guy. He has a reputation in the porn industry for being the man every person wants to fuck at some point in their career. His resume is vast and his experience shows in his technique. You’re assuming that’s how he knows you don’t need anymore prepping when it comes to taking his full length and girth; thankfully he doesn’t comment on it out loud, but you’re embarrassingly wet. Like ‘it feels like you’ve already orgasmed twice’ kind of wet. Which is why there’s no hesitation on his part to bury into you to the hilt, and the fake cry of pain that leaves your lips is actually a very grateful cry of sheer, undeniable pleasure.

“Fuck!” He cries out immediately, his hips stalling as they press flush against the heated skin of your ass. “Shit, you’re squeezing around me like crazy. About to milk my cock dry if you don’t stop.”

His voice is breathless, strained; you can tell from your line of work that he’s trying to hold back from finishing too early. Not that you can blame him, what with the way you spent all of foreplay glued to his dick. Still, this being the wildly popular Min Yoongi and all, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within you at his words.

“Cut!” The director suddenly calls, though neither you nor your co-star move. “Yoongi, do you need a minute? We can cut the footage later if you want to wait until you’re ready to start again.”

“U-uh, yeah, just a sec.” It’s interesting how much his voice wavers now that you have a break without the pressure of the camera filming a continuous take.

You glance at him over your shoulder as best as you can with the side of your face in the sheets and your wrists still restrained behind your back. “Anything I can do to help?” You ask.

“N-no, you—don’t move,” he quickly warns as if any motion whatsoever would cause him to blow his load right then and there.

For some reason it causes your heart to flutter with endearment.

So you simply nod your head and settle back down against the bed, the sensation of him essentially warming his erect cock within your walls not helping any as you can feel your slick arousal now dripping down your thighs.

“And... action. Take your time and whenever you’re ready you can start back up again,” the director calls out to him.

Yoongi briefly nods from behind you, and it’s after a few deep breaths from him that you start to feel movement inside the deepest parts of you. He rubs his hips experimentally against your ass to test the waters before finally rolling them in a slow, meticulous motion.

“Shit, I wouldn’t have wasted time on your mouth if I knew you had a pussy like this,” he curses softly as the repeated action starts to gain momentum.

Your skin is slick with precum and sweat where your bodies meet, though you’re unable to stop the moan that tumbles from your lips as his thrusts speed up and the sound of slapping flesh fills the room.

It isn’t long before what was once caution and hesitation transforms back into the rough tone of the script now that he’s not afraid of finishing early. He gives your ass a few loud, stinging slaps before his hand reaches down to grab a fistful of your hair and yank you up. You cry out, your torso now completely lifted in the air due to the strong grip he has on you.

“That’s right, I knew you could take my fat cock. You were just whining like the little bitch you are, huh?” He grits his teeth and slips his hand from your hair to the knotted rope that binds both of your hands together. Your scalp is thankful when he chooses to hold onto that instead while he steadies your body for his relentless pace.

“Ah! No, fuck, it’s too much–“ you barely remember to scream out your lines through the endless waves of pleasure he’s assaulting your body.

“Did I say you could speak?” He growls before dropping your hands so that your chest falls back against the mattress again. There’s only a beat of silence while he grabs your abandoned panties on the bed before he’s unceremoniously shoving them into your mouth. “Now shut the fuck up. I don’t wanna hear you unless you’re crying over my cock.”

And so loud endless sobs tear through your throat, the sound muffled from the soiled fabric in your mouth as he grips your hips so tightly you‘re sure his fingertips will leave bruises and he yanks your body up and down on his length.

“Fuck, gonna keep your messy cunt as my own personal pocket pussy.” Dirty words tumble from his mouth as he loses himself to the pleasure your walls are giving him. “Gonna fuck you every single day.”

You hear the sound of a door closing from somewhere within the house you’re using as a set, and you know that means the scene where your supposed boyfriend comes home is now happening.

“Mmmm!” Your eyes widen as you attempt to speak, in the middle of spitting the panties out when Yoongi suddenly leans forward against your back and shoves them back into your mouth before slamming a hand over your lips to keep them there.

“Oh, is someone home?” There’s a sadistic, devilish glint in his eye as he speaks against your ear, his hips continuing their rutting. “Let them see. Let them see how much of a pathetic whore you are creaming all over my cock.”

The new angle causes him to hit another spot within you that has you crying out in pure ecstasy, tears steadily streaming from the corners of your eyes as your vocal cords vibrate with every muffled groan against his palm.

You hear the sound of your fake boyfriend walking up the stairs, and that’s Yoongi’s cue to pull out and tug you to your feet by the knotted rope at the juncture of your wrists. He roughly shoves you against the closed door with his chest pressed against your back so that you have nowhere to move.

“Mmmm!” You moan frantically again when you feel his cock push back into you, and it’s all you can do to shake his palm from your mouth and spit out the panties between your lips before your boyfriend stops to knock on the door.

You spare a panicked glance back at Yoongi only to see him smirking sardonically at you. “Answer,” his twisted words curl around the tightening coil in your core.

You frantically shake your head. There’s no way you can do that without getting caught!

At your refusal he shoves you against the wall even harder this time, his free hand wrapping around your throat to hold your gaze on him. “I said, answer. Let him hear how I make you feel.” He pivots his hips up in a particularly heavy thrust that had a cry of pleasure falling from your lips—one that catches the ears of your waiting boyfriend.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay in there?” He calls out in concern before turning the handle.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi tugs on your wrists so that you’re stumbling back a couple steps and the door has enough room to open, though you quickly peek your head out so that your fake boyfriend can’t see that you’re naked or that Yoongi is currently ramming his cock into you from behind.

“H-hey babe,” your words stumble as Yoongi starts back up with a relentless pace, one hand holding onto your knotted wrists for leverage so that he can bounce you back and forth on his dick while the other hand smooths down the bare expanse of your back.

Your boyfriend’s eyes instantly widen in concern. “Are you crying? What happened, are you feeling okay?”

When he starts to step inside, you quickly shake your head. “N-no, no don’t worry. I was just uh—I was taking off my makeup. I feel good.” At that moment Yoongi uses his hand on your back to push down on your spine so that you’re leaning forward even more, the new angle causing him to hit a sweet spot deep within your walls. “I feel so good!” You involuntarily cry out.

There’s no way this stunt would ever look believable in real life. But that’s the beauty of porn.

Yoongi suddenly slaps your ass and you stumble, your hand instinctively trying to fly to your mouth to cover your whimper. Though because your wrists are bound, you’re unable to stop the sound of pleasure that hangs wantonly in the air once it falls from your lips.

Alarm springs to your boyfriend’s features. “What was that?”

“I-I just stubbed my toe,” you lamely fumble for the script’s poor excuse.

He nods and you listen to him ramble about his day, mostly stalling for time so the cameras can catch the glory of this unknowing-cuckold moment. You supply distracted hm’s and uh huh’s until he finally says he’s going to the kitchen.

“I’ll be there in a bit, babe,” you call out as he walks away, and the second the door shuts Yoongi shoves you against it again and holds you there with his body, never missing a beat as he continues to slam his hips into you from behind.

“What’s wrong, babe? Don’t want him to know what a little slut you are?” He snarls into your ear, the pet name falling sarcastically from his lips and making your stomach flutter. His skin is slick with sweat where your bodies meet and the heat from your heavy breathing clouds the air between you with lust. “It took everything in me not to open the door and show him whose cock has been stretching this fucking cunt of yours.”

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second tugging you back to the bed now that your interruption has left, though instead of throwing you face down like before, he positions you on your back this time with your ass at the edge of the bed while he towers over you.

There’s something about this position that feels more intimate—maybe it’s because you can stare straight into his eyes this time when he fucks you. But one slap of your tits as he suddenly thrusts his cock back into your heat and you know he’s still in character.

“Ah!” You cry out, the quick intrusion making you see stars.

He doesn’t waste time building his rhythm as he starts back up at the same frightening pace as before, and the hand that’s groping and abusing your breasts slides up your chest and clamps down around your throat, using his hold to yank you up and down on his length again.

“You finally ready to be a good girl? Done whining about taking my fat cock?” He chuckles darkly as you struggle to breathe, fresh tears starting to prick at the edges of your eyes over the black stains streaking down your cheeks.

Just when you’re about to nudge him three times, he releases his grip on your windpipe to instead travel up your jaw and hook his fingers inside your open mouth. His fingers curl behind the back of your bottom-row teeth, holding you there while he fucks into you and uses your holes as a means to get himself off.

“Look at you, so pathetic and submissive beneath me. The perfect sex doll.” His gaze never wavers from your big eyes while he speaks, and before you can register what’s happening he’s suddenly leaning down and spitting into your mouth that he’s forcing open. “Swallow,” he orders.

It’s embarrassing how quickly you obey. Every second that passes is spent reminding yourself that you need to remember your script rather than act on impulse.

But that’s proving harder and harder to do now that Yoongi’s face is so close to yours.

You resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. Your director already scolded you once today; you don’t need him calling you out again. Though you might not have to endure this facade that much longer, because soon your co-star’s hand is snaking down between your legs and finding the bundle of nerves that instantly sets your body aflame.

You have no choice but to take what he’s giving you, and the onslaught of pleasure mixed with the mental image of everything happening is too much for you to handle.

Which is why his growl of “cum,” in the shell of your ear is all it takes for you to lose it on his cock.

“Fuck,” the word falls from his lips with a low, throaty groan. He stands upright again and tosses his head back, both hands returning to your hips as he drags your pussy even faster on his length so you ride out your high while he desperately chases his. “I didn’t think it was even possible for you to feel any tighter—shit, your pretty pussy is gonna make me cum.”

The sounds of pleasure leaving his lips turn short, breathless, until finally you feel the sudden sensation of milky white cum flooding your insides. It’s warm and leaves your body feeling full, satisfied when he eventually pulls out to admire his seed dripping from your cunt.

He bends down to get a view up close, and without the haze of lust clouding your movements you actually feel embarrassed by his thorough inspection despite everything that just happened. If it wasn’t for the dizzying lethargy that’s starting to settle over your body and a need to end the scene, you might’ve tried to squirm away.

“Clench,” he suddenly orders, his thumb dragging up your inner thigh and entering your abused pussy again as he stuffs his seed back inside of you. “Don’t let it drip out. I want you to remember the feeling of my cum filling you up when you talk to your precious boyfriend.”

You shudder at his touch against your sensitive mound, though thankfully he doesn’t linger as the director calls cut! and the scene ends.

The hum of background chatter fills the room again, and it takes you a moment to blink from your daze and realize what’s happening. You can’t move from the bed even if you wanted to.

Yoongi is instantly at your side untying your wrists, his touch careful and gentle compared to the harsh way he was handling your body just moments prior. “Hey, you okay?” He sits down by your side and runs a soothing hand over your hair, your back. “I’m sorry if I went too far a couple times there. They said they wanted me to be more rough, so I–“

“It’s fine, really,” you hum in reassurance when you eventually find your voice. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once your wrists are finally free of the constricting rope, and you rub and roll them a few times to ease the stiff ache in your bones. “I never nudged you because I was uncomfortable. I just needed to breathe,” you chuckle amiably.

A soft smile finds Yoongi’s lips, and he slowly reaches out to give you enough time to pull away if you want to until the pad of his thumb is tenderly swiping the mascara-stained tears from your cheekbones.

The contrast makes you dizzy. It’s like night and day, his actions not even a minute ago compared to his actions now. His sexual range leaves your heart aflutter and you don’t know why.

“Shit, you have marks on your hips.” He runs a hand over the curvature of your side. A shiver shoots down your spine at his feathery touch. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get that into it.”

The tantalizing motion of his fingers seem to put you in a trance before you finally find the strength to sit upright, though the sudden movement makes you wobble a little off balance. He quickly wraps his arms around your back to steady you and then leans back against the bed frame.

You let out an exhale, your stomach rolling at the intimacy of the interaction. You’re now cuddling with Yoongi, and the cameras aren’t rolling anymore. Does he do this with all his co-stars after a shoot?

“You don’t have to apologize,” you murmur, swallowing before admitting your next words. “I got into it too. It was so difficult for me to act like I didn’t want it.”

Yoongi leans back in surprise at your words so he can get a good look at your face, though it‘s in that moment while the two of you are gazing at each other that his manager calls his name. You can’t help but notice the reluctance in his movements as he parts from you, eventually getting up and putting on his robe behind the camera. 

You sigh, giving your legs a bit more time to rest until your manager calls you over as well. What’s happening? You’ve left a shoot satisfied before, but never yearning for more. Was the sex really just that good? Or is it something more, something that has to do with the boy with dark eyes and fluffy black hair staring back at you from across the room?

Whatever it is, you find yourself suddenly a little too excited to see Min Yoongi again.

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[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Bet On It | Charlie Gillespie

Requested:  I may have already requested this (or I may have dreamed it) - but I would love an imagine with Charlie and the reader having a bet. Charlie loses and has to get the readers name tattooed somewhere and his fans go INSANE. Can be either platonic or romantic, your choice.

A/N: This was too good to pass up. Hope you like it! And special thanks to @calamitykaty for helping me out again on this one! I appreciate your help and love so much! You are the best of the best! Love you! 💖

Pairing: Charlie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tattoos 

Song(s) used: Show Me How You Burlesque - Christina Aguilera 

Words:  3,880

“Wanna bet on it?” was one of the first things he had ever said to you three years ago when you met him after your dance troupe had performed at the annual showcase. 

You and Meghan Gillespie had been friends since you started taking dance classes when both of you were five. However, your friendship never expanded from dance classes. Both of you were totally fine with that. 

This also meant neither of you had ever met each other's siblings, but that changed when you were seventeen and Charlie tapped your shoulder when you’d come up to greet your own family after the showcase. He’d complimented you on your dancing, and told you a little flustered that you had stolen the show. You didn’t even need to ask his name to know this was Charlie. He had the same bone structure and the same eyes Meghan did. She had told you about her siblings, mostly about Charlie since he was the closest in age and, according to her, the most annoying out of all her brothers. 

The two of you talked the whole night, even long after everyone had gone. Most of it was absolute nonsense, but  you loved getting to know him a little more aside from the stories you’d heard from Meghan. You enjoyed his presence and the way he carried himself and told his stories. This boy just seemed like the most excitable and passionate person you had ever met in your life. A lot of similarities to his sister, you noticed. 

“Can I see you again soon?” he asked when the two of  you wrapped up the night when it neared twelve am. 

You had raised your eyebrow at his nervosity more than his question. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Charlie’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes wide and jaw tight. “Wha-What? Nah! I wouldn’t date my sister’s friend! Uhm, more like, uh… Like a platonic date!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly. He even added some finger guns to top it all off. 

“All right, a platonic date it is,” you said as a teasing grin made its way to your features. “But you have to promise me one thing…” He nodded his head, encouraging you to go on. “You  have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” 

A snicker raked through his body before he mimicked your teasing grin, “Wanna bet on it?” 

Even though back then there was nothing at stake, he still lost the bet. You both did, technically. Because after that first ‘platonic’ date followed more dates that grew into non-platonic dates until he finally picked up the courage to kiss you on your doorstep. 

Now three years later, you were working together on a second season of Julie and The Phantoms, both of you having been on the first season too. You as a background dancer and him as one of the leads of the show. 

To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. 

However, no one knew you were dating except for the closest people in your life. Meghan knew from the first ‘platonic’ date that this would be more than just a shallow friendship, and all your other friends and family were just happy you found each other. The cast of Julie and The Phantoms, however, were your biggest shippers. They loved to tease you both to the point where fans were suspicious, but you never made anything official. You kept telling them you were just best friends. 

After a full day on a corona proof set, the two of you finally settle on the sofa of your shared apartment with Owen. Said third roommate still had to film a couple of scenes with Booboo, which meant the two of you had the space all to yourself. 

Cuddled up on the couch, the two of you scroll through your phone, catching up on anything  you’d missed on social media. You’d received a few comments on your latest Instagram story with Savannah and Tori, and even more on the ones with Charlie in them. Most of them told you they wanted you to do a live together soon. 

“People are asking for a live,” you stated, showing some of the messages in your inbox. 

“Then they shall receive,” Charlie replied and got up from the couch, making his way into the bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why he just left, but you were given answers when he returned with an acoustic in his hand. “They always love a good jam session,” he explained before handing  you his phone so you could set up the live on his account since he had a lot more followers than you. 

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you pressed the button, letting the phone rest against a large candle on the coffee table. Names started popping up at the bottom of the screen while the little number in the right-hand corner raked up quickly. “Hey guys!” 

“‘Sup!” Charlie shouted excitedly, a wide smile taking over his features while he tuned his guitar. “What do you guys wanna see from us today? Send us some requests for songs I should play or questions you want us to answer.” 

A laugh escaped your mouth as you noticed a lot of the questions were about whether or not you were a couple. “No, we’re not together, we’re just best buddies.” You put your head on Charlie’s shoulder, smiling a toothy smile at the camera. 

“Do you pull pranks on Owen or others from the cast?” Charlie read aloud as you pulled yourself up again, nodding your head in response. “Yeah, we pull pranks on each other all the time!” 

“Yeah! I love to prank this one whenever I find him somewhere napping,” you chuckled, especially when you noticed his expression on the screen. His mouth ajar as his eyes went from left to right. “I swear, this boy can sleep anywhere!” 

“Don’t expose me like that!” he cried out, which made you burst out with laughter to the point where you even let out a snort. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore at how offended he was by all of this, you were practically cackling. “Okay, if we’re exposing each other, you’re always dancing. ALWAYS,” he put emphasis on the last ‘always’. His eyes widened at the word as well as his voice growing louder. 

You stopped laughing at this, suddenly turning serious. “That’s my job, Char,” you deadpanned. Charlie wasn’t Charlie if he let it go so quickly. 

“Yeah, on set and maybe at practice, but you dance everywhere,” he turned to the camera, “Seriously, she dances in the shower, on the toilet, at catering, in bed,...” he stopped himself upon realizing he’d said a tiny bit too much. 

“People are asking how you know all that, Charlie. How do you know all of that?” you teased along, knowing he had dug himself a hole and you loved to see him squirm to get him out. 

“Because I… Come on, y/n, we’re best friends, we fall asleep in the same bed all the time,” he quickly saved himself in a very nonchalant, very Charlie way. You couldn’t help the smirk tugging at one corner of your lip, thinking ‘Nice save, Gillespie’.

“But that’s still not as bad as sleeping everywhere,” you countered, your face still overtaken by that smirk. “I bet I could get a whole album of pictures of you sleeping anywhere.” 

This claim made Charlie’s head snap up, a feeling of dejavu rushing through his mind. This suddenly felt very familiar since both of you had  been in a situation like this before, both pulling the short straw.

“Wanna bet on it?” he declared, his eyebrows nearly reaching up to his hairline. 

Your tongue glided across your turned up lips as you replied, “What’s at stake?” 

“Let’s see what they think. Guys! Help us out with this bet, please! What should be at stake?”

Dozens of replies came in, but your eyes fell on one in particular. “The loser has to get the winner’s name tattooed in a place of the winner’s choice!” you read aloud, pointing at the screen where the comment used to be. “Yes! Okay! So, let’s say we have to each get ten pictures of videos by -- it’s now Tuesday, so Monday?”  Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “First one to get ten wins.” 

Charlie held his hand out for you to shake, which you gladly did so, sealing the bet. 

“Get ready to get tatted for the first time, baby,” Charlie quipped with a smirk. 

“Oh, no, Char. I’m gonna leave this a blank canvas,” you responded, gliding your hands over your ribcage and down to your sides for emphasis. “You better get ready to get ‘y/n’ tattooed in big block letters across your chest!” You patted his pecs before adding with a giggle, “No ragrets.” 

He let out a chuckle at the meme reference before turning to the phone again. The two of you spent the next twenty minutes talking to the fans on Instagram live, playing them some songs and teasing one another non-stop. The fans were pretty certain you were a thing by now, but you still insisted all this was just a really close friendship. 

By the next day, everyone knew about the bet and was willing to help both of you out. Though, most of them told you afterwards they were on your side all the way. 

Savannah skipped over to you when you were waiting at the Hollywood Ghost Club set, getting ready for the last rehearsal before you’d start filming the scene tomorrow. You were going over the steps in your head until she spoke up. “Have you caught Charlie yet today?” she asked with a smirk. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, haven’t really stopped today, so I haven’t seen him much either.” This made you realize you kind of missed him and were up for a cuddle right about now. “Why? Have you seen him somewhere?” 

The mischievous look in her eyes spoke a thousand words. “Gimme your phone, I’ll go take a picture, so you can stay here.” You mull over the option for a second before deciding against it. 

“No, that’s not very fair. I’ll just go and look for him after this rehearsal and hope he’ll still be napping.” Savannah shrugged at your response before tucking a strand of hair of yours behind your ears. 

“Suit yourself, he’s in the breakroom.” You made a mental note of that. “You’re so soft for him, it’s adorable,” she uttered as a tender smile found its way to her lips. “I’ll let you get to rehearsal and I’ll make sure no one wakes Charlie before you can get to him, okay?” 

You shot her a thankful smile, “Yeah, thanks, Sav.” She kissed your cheek before walking away to wherever she needed to go. 

Thankfully, Charlie was indeed still asleep by the time you made it to the breakroom. He looked adorable all curled up on the small sofa with his arms wrapped around his own stomach. With an endeared smile, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweater and snapped a picture before making your way over to him and squatting down in front of the couch. Softly, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead before combing through the luscious mop of brown locks. 

He stirred slightly and squeezed his eyes tighter before they fluttered open. When they met yours, a soft, sleepy smile lit up his face. With a beam mirroring his, you said to him, “You look very cuddly up here, mind if I join you?” He scooted over and turned to his side, answering your question without words. You joined him on the small couch and rested your forehead on his chest, shutting your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. 

“You took a picture, didn’t you?” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You giggled, which was enough for him to know that you did. 

“One point y/n, Charlie zero,” you said and kissed his shirt-covered chest. 

“Oh, I’ll get my revenge, Bubba, I promise you!” He poked you in the ribs, making you squirm in his arms. “But let’s nap first until they need us again.” 

When Charlie promised something, he stuck to it. So, during lunch that same day, you stood in line with Madison, Jadah, Savannah, Tori and some of the other dancers, chatting a bit while music played from the speakers in the spacious area where everyone was either already eating or queueing to get food. 

“You really never know if you--” you cut yourself off once your ears picked up on the song that was playing in the background. “Oh my God! I know the choreo to this one. Tori, you do too, right?!” 

You put the plate you were holding on top of Savannah’s while Tori and some of the other dancers gave theirs to the other girls. Tori and Sam, one of the dancers you were closest with, got up on the table. Chuckling, you watched as a few others followed their example, and you quickly give in too. 

“Hit it up, get it up, won’t let you rest Hit it up, get it up, this is not a test Hit it up, get it up, gotta give me your best So get your ass up, show me how you burlesque”

You’ve loved this movie since it came out ten years ago. Your mother showed you some videos of you dancing in front of the tv, trying to imitate the dancers. It was pretty hilarious to see a ten-year-old do this dance. 

Right now though, you were ready to show off in front of everyone with some of the greatest dancers on this crew. Moments like these were proof that you were born to be a dancer. 

“A little bit of naughty, it's a little bit nice She’s a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice Shimmy, shimmy, strut, strut Give a little what, what Up on the tables we’ll be dancing all night”   

Little did you know that Charlie had walked in with Owen, Jeremy and Booboo just as you’d started to dance. He was quick enough to grab  his phone from his pocket and film it. Even though he loved the fact that it was now a tie, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the girl he’d fallen in love with three years ago. 

This was his favorite side of yours. You were in your element on the dance floor -- or table in this case. He just loved how confident you were and how free you seemed. While you’d be kind of shy when around new people, nobody would notice that when you’re dancing. He found it incredibly sexy to see you up there. 

You groaned as Charlie held his hand out to help you down the table when you’d finished the impromptu performance. With a smirk, he said, “1-1, Bubba,” and pressed a kiss to your flustered cheek. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t withhold the smile tugging at your lips. He looked so chuffed with his victory, even if it was a small one. You wanted to grant him this one win. 

The one win quickly turned into eight more, for the both of you, by Saturday. 

Match point. 

There was a mutual agreement to pause the bet on Sunday since the two of you had a day off and were going to sleep and dance around the apartment while cleaning up anyway, so that wouldn’t be fair. But on Monday, it was game on. 

You were certain you were going to win. All you had to do is find Charlie when you knew he didn’t have to film anything and try to withhold yourself from dancing if it wasn’t a part of the filming or rehearsal progress.

By noon, you had succeeded in one department. The only thing left to do now, was find Charlie. You knew he had an hour off for lunch and  that he’d spent twenty minutes of it taking a power nap somewhere on set. The only downside was, that you had no clue where he could possibly be sleeping  now. 

“Mads! Jer!” you exclaimed when you saw Madison and Jeremy walking up to you with sandwiches in their hands. “Have you guys seen Charlie anywhere?” The two glanced at each other before giving you a look that screamed ‘seriously, y/n?’. 

“What’s the best napping spot in the entire studio and isn’t used for anything today?” Jeremy asked as a way of responding to your question. 

Your eyes widened as the image of the bed popped into your head. You quickly muttered, “Thank you!” before hurrying your way to the set that holds Julie Molina’s bedroom. And there, smack in the middle of the bed, cuddled up to a pink cushion, lied your boyfriend. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you nervously grabbed your phone and snapped a few pictures to make sure there was at least one that wasn’t blurry. Your hands were shaking way too much from the excitement, but you couldn’t just let this one pass. You had to win. If not just to prove a point. 

You rapidly scrolled through the photos and when you saw one that was in focus, you shrieked and leapt onto the bed on top of Charlie. He let out a groan at the sudden weight pressing down on his body as he shook awake. 

“I won, bitch!” you screamed out, doing a happy dance as you straddled his lap.

He rubbed his eyes like a toddler whilst giggling like one too before placing his hands on your thighs and saying, “I didn’t think you’d find me here.” He started rubbing up and down your jeans-cladded legs, a pout tugging at his bottom lip. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Seriously? This is the most infamous napping spot of the entire studio! I immediately came here when I couldn’t find you in your regular spot in the breakroom.” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“Someone else told you I was here, didn’t they?”

“Yep, definitely.” 

He groaned and then flipped you over, so you were lying next to him, and you let out a shriek before it turned into a giggle. “I already know where you’re gonna put my name too,” you mumbled. You pressed your forehead against his while tracing a heart on his chest, right above his heart. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed your forehead. Placing it back, he muttered, “Let me guess, on my left pec, so you’re forever in my heart?” You simply hummed in response, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. “Why are you so predictable?” 

“Shut up, you love me.” 

Butterflies welled up in his belly as you said that. He loved the overconfident way you always said those words. They were true. Very true and he loved that you knew that. But that didn’t take away the fun into actually reminding you too. 

“That’s true.” 

The following day, you took Charlie to the tattoo parlor to get his tattoo. You had told him a thousand times he didn’t have to do it, that knowing you were the winner sufficed, but he just replied with a, “No, I want that tattoo.” 

The tattoo artist asked if  you had a design in mind, so you handed her the slip of paper on which you had perfectly written your name in cursive and told her where to put it. She simply stated, “You got great  handwriting,” before showing you and Charlie to the back. 

“Film this for Insta, babe, so the people know I lost,” Charlie had ordered you sweetly as he tugged his shirt over his body, handing it over to you while he sat down. 

You grabbed your phone and started filming when the tattoo artist, whose name was CeCe, she’d said, started on his tattoo. Charlie looked up at you, biting his lip, and then reaching out to you. Without asking him what was wrong, you swung his shirt over your shoulder and took his hand with the one you weren’t filming with. He squeezed hard, nearly bone-crushingly hard, but you let him. After all, it was kind of your fault he was there in the first place. 

When CeCe had finished and put a protective band-aid on it, Charlie grabbed his shirt from your shoulder, and kissed you on the lips sweetly. You paid for the work and time CeCe had put into this, said your goodbyes, and headed back home. 

Pretty much every single one of the cast was waiting at your place, ready to see the finished product. However, Charlie wasn’t allowed to take the covering off yet. It needed to stay there for two to four hours before he could take it off. 

And once he did, you were surprised to not only see your name on his chest, but also your favorite flower worked into it beautifully. Confused and surprised, you looked up at Charlie. 

“When did you even tell her to do that?” you asked as everyone started to take pictures of the tattoo and of the interaction between the two of you. 

“Called in beforehand,” he simply shrugged. Shaking  your head, you leaned up and planted a kiss to his lips. Even though it was bat-shit crazy he even went through with tattooing your name on his chest, the fact he added an element of you made it extra special. 

That night, Charlie posted the video of him getting his tattoo on his Instagram stories while you made a compilation post of all ten of the sleeping Charlie pictures you had accumulated in the last week, along with a picture of his tattoo. 

@Yourinstahandle: Victory is mine! You are absolutely crazy. I can’t believe you went through with this. At least now I’m forever embedded on your heart and I’ll be yours forever. 💖 @Charles_Gillespie 

And with that, you immediately went Instagram official too. Following your example, Charlie shared a picture of his brand new tattoo as well. 

@Charles_Gillespie: Wanna bet on it? Forever mine 💖 @Yourinstahandle

When he joined you in bed that night, you went to lie down on his chest, only to receive a painful hiss from him, causing you to shoot up again. “GAH! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” you shouted, and looked at him in shock. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered and went to pull you back but you refused to. 

“No, Char, I’m not gonna hurt you for an entire night,” you grumble and crawl across his legs to lie down on his other side. “This feels weird.” You rested your head against the non-painful side of his chest. “But better than no cuddles.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have won, so I wouldn’t be in pain right now,” he responded, followed by a small chuckle, letting you know he was just joking.    

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you muttered. Before closing your eyes, you quickly leaned up and pecked his cheek. 

“Wanna bet on it?”

*

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*

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[mae-gi-writes]

Runaway Baby | Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

You and Kevin run away from your own wedding night.

A/N: aka self indulgent fluff because KEVIN MOON. Might also be crap because I haven't been writing much these days.

• • •

"You want to run away?" Kevin's eyebrows are shooting up so high they almost disappear under his hairline, "on the night of our wedding?"

It's funny that you stand here, in your bridal gown cornering Kevin as he is exiting the men's washroom while your playlist of wedding songs are blasting a few metres away.

Ironic, really. That you are proposing something as radical. But hey, what's life without a little fun?

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"I'll stay if you want to but honestly?" Your shoulders lift in a shrug, "I'm done playing main actress for the night."

His eyes sparkle, "then let's get out of here."

That's how you find yourself, white heels in hand and wedding train in the other, with your newly-wed husband's palm guiding your back as you make a subtle escape out onto the parking lot and safely manage to pull out without attracting too much attention.

Kevin's grin, despite the situation, is permanently stretched across his face as he asks you where you want to go. You ask him to surprise you, and are beyond delighted when he pulls up to a seafront a few miles away. You note that his free hand is permanently stitched onto your thigh, warm and safe and just there, and warmth bubbles through your chest.

"Waah," you let out a sigh as you slowly disentangle yourself from the car seat, allowing the gentle sea breeze rustle through your locks, caress your face as you walk up to the edge.

Kevin's arms are around you in an instant, leaving hot trails in his wake. You feel his lips pressing a kiss to your cheek, "Mrs. Moon?" He croons into your ear, making you giggle, "yeah?"

"How'd you find the wedding?" He murmurs, pressing a small kiss to the side of your head.

You turn to him, pretty sure that the smile has never left your lips once this evening, "it was chaos."

His laughter washes against your neck, "that's all you gotta say about it? That it was chaos?"

"It was chaos!"

You remember Chanhee and Changmin drunk dancing on the dance floor, Younghoon crying into the bread baskets because Kevin had adamantly told him off about not eating the decorations, Hyunjae and Sunwoo accidentally setting one of the tables on fire.

You don't even want to know how this one had manifested.

"You're right," Kevin agrees with a chuckle and tightens his grip, "it was chaos."

"Wouldn't have it any other way though."

His eyes hold yours for a long moment and though you've seen that similar spark in his eyes, there's something a little more magical about this particular moment that makes your heart swell twice its size.

Out of impulse, your hand lifts to cup his cheek. You marvel at the shades of moonlight gleaming along his skin, lingering along the gentle curve of his mouth before he quickly turns his head to kiss your palm.

"Tired?" His words are muffled against your skin. He turns back to gaze at you with a fondness that makes you wek at the knees.

"A little. My feet hurt."

"No wonder. Thank god you didn't step on me with those heels," you shove him playfully. He responds with another peck on your jaw, smiling against your neck, "wanna sit down?"

You don't though. Your omit these plans in favour of combing through the event that would forever mark a change in your life and walk down the beach with your hand entangled in his.

"Your mom is going to be so mad," you say out loud after a long moment of contemplation. The sea roars beside you as if in agreement and it tousles your hair, swirls through Kevin's. You can smell the salt rolling off its waves and the sensation is enough to make your body relax.

It had been fun. But tough. Weddings are stressful, you realise.

"Yeah," he tilts his head towards you, "but at least we can tell our grandkids how we ran away from our own wedding."

"Bold of you to assume we'll live to see them."

"Well you pessimist," he gasps in mock offense, "don't poop on my party."

Laughing at his pout before pushing his forehead with your forefinger, you turn towards the vast darkness of the ocean and breathe in slowly. Beautiful, you think to yourself. What more can you want really? When the man you love is at your side?

Nothing. Nothing can break you when love is there to hold you up with two hands. And that's what Kevin has been for all these years. A safe harbour, place that keeps you safe no matter how turbulent your life gets.

You sit down onto the sand at some point, cross-legged and nestled in Kevin's lap -- he'd pulled you onto him with a scowl that dared you to protest -- with his chin propped over your shoulder and his hair tickling your cheek every time you move a little closer.

"Six years," you sigh against him. "Wow. It's been long."

" 'twas," he murmurs, "and now you're stuck with me forever."

"Jeesh, sounds promising."

"You could at least try to act like you're a little excited."

Giggling, you steal a kiss from his mouth, "don't worry, I am."

He cups your jaw with a hand of his own, turning your face back to kiss you a little deeper, mouth slotting against yours and causing a soft sigh to escape your lips. His are plush and soft, perfect as they curve around your upper lip to suckle gently. Your own hand goes up to his head to pull him against you a little closer and he groans into your mouth, one kiss leading to the next like a rain of warmth that causes your chest to warm with each staggering breath lost.

"Mrs.Moon," he mumbles against your lips, breaths washing over your face and thumb stroking your cheekbone in adoration, "we should probably take this to the bedroom. Should we not?"

You hum and kiss him again, loving the way his own body seems to curl in pleasute with every trickle of your fingers through his hair, "I mean, I have no problem starting right here."

Kevin's eyes darken with a film of lust that makes your breath hitch. He tightens his grip on you, fingers digging into your waist with a firmness that has you gasp, "oh really?" He dips to your neck and you yelp softly upon feeling the warmth of his tongue on your neck, "I mean, I was just trying to be a gentleman. But if you insist..."

And with a sudden burst of movement he flips you onto his lap. His hands grip the back of your thighs and he pulls you to him so that there is no distance between your bodies.

Hands quickly settling over his chest, you look up into his deep simmering orbs as a troop of butterflies explode through your abdomen, your own pupils dilated with pleasant surprise.

"Come on then, Mrs.Moon," Kevin's smile spreads like a chesire cats and tilting his head to the side, eyes crinkling up in that adorable way of his, his hand trickles through your locks, pull you close and kisses your next breath away.

"Let's give the world something to look at."

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[arvinsescape]

Too close.

A/N: This one is a pretty fluffy one but i stumbled across the concept and just had to use it, i really hope you enjoy! I enjoyed writing it!

Summary: At what point do you realise you’re too close to your best friend?

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of smut and implied smut but nothing bad.

W/C: 2.4K

Everyone had always said you and Tom were too close to just be best friends. You’d been best friends for so long and completely inseparable. People thought that when you grew up you’d grow apart somehow but you never did, you only grew closer. People always assume you’re a couple no matter where you go or what you do. His girlfriends always hated you for some reason and your boyfriends always hated him, said you were too close and it was weird. Sure, you were close but how close is too close?

You cuddled all the damn time.

You were sat with the rest of the boys having a film night and of course you were sat with Tom. Your back against the arm of the chair and him sat between your legs as you played with his hair. He sighed in content as you continued to run your fingers through it, he found it comforting.

“When are you two gonna get together?” Harry suddenly said as you halted your movements for a second.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked.

“Well you’re so close I’ve thought something has been going on for years.” Harry shrugged.

“What you can’t be close to your best friend?” You asked.

“There’s close and then there’s you two.” Harrison interjected.

**

You were in bed cuddled up in your blankets when you heard the front door open and shut, Tom must be home. You leapt out of bed and ran down stairs quietly as to not wake the other boys, tackling him into a hug as he laughed.

“Missed you so much princess.” He said as he squeezed you tight into his chest. Princess. It was a nickname he exclusively had for you and Tess. Sure he had pet names for his girlfriends but he had always said that princess was exclusively yours. That had started at your prom because he said you looked like one and the name stuck.

“Missed you too Tommy.” You said as you squeezed him back. Tommy. A nickname he couldn’t stand coming from anyone else other than you. It was something you’d always called him and you were the only person who got away with it. Not even his exes had been able to call him that without him cringing but when you said it? He smiled.

“I’m gonna go for a shower, wanna get the plane smell off me.” He said into your hair as he kissed the top of your head and moved away from you and up the stairs.

You made your way back into your bedroom as you heard Tom quietly move around his bedroom and take a shower. You heard the water shut off and five minutes later your door was creaking open. He had his pj’s on and he was smiling at you as you returned it from your curled up spot on the bed.

“Shift over.” He said and you did as he grabbed the duvet and climbed in next to you. You laid your head on his chest as he ran his hands through your hair. This was normal, you shared a bed often as both of you slept better, of course you never did if either of you were seeing someone or in a relationship but when you were single? You rarely spent a night apart unless he was away.

“God I’ve missed how warm you are.” He mumbled as he tightened his grip around you and you smiled. “I’ll tell you all about filming tomorrow but for right now I’m so tired and I haven’t had a good nights sleep in weeks.” He mumbled as you snuggled further into each other, letting sleep take you both.

You slept together often.

You and Tom had lost your virginities to each other. You both wanted someone you trusted to be your first time and couldn’t think of any other person you trusted more. It was sweet and it was fun and everything you would imagine losing your virginities to be. Tom was careful and sweet and took care of you before and after.

After that you found yourselves relieving each other often. Whenever one of you were horny the other would help out as best friends do, right? This ranged from all kinds of sex, rough, passionate, shower, morning, phone, you name it, whatever you were in the mood for you did. You didn’t think much of it, loads of people slept with their friends. Of course you never did this when either of you were in a relationship or seeing someone.

You also discussed anything sex related, good experiences, bad experiences. You discussed everything and anything sex related. You tried all sorts together, if either of you wanted to try something new you tried with each other because you could trust each other and you didn’t feel embarrassed about brining it up or not enjoying it.

You held hands a lot.

You’d decided to join Tom on his morning walk with Tess and as you were walking around the park he suddenly grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers. You smiled as you squeezed his hand slightly. You held hands quite often when you were walking, you’d done it for years and neither of you thought much about it. You held hands when you were sat watching TV together. Or when you went to the cinema or well whenever really. It didn’t seem to matter, your hands just seemed to gravitate to one and other.

Your social medias are full of pictures together.

Your social media was almost mostly pictures of you and Tom and Tom’s pictures that weren’t promotion? Were you and Tom. Special birthday messages would appear on your social medias every year to each other. People thought you were together and you had to correct them and tell them that you were just very close friends. Of course the internet claimed you were too close and you’d never thought much about it until today.

You’d just split up with your boyfriend, Nick, you’d been together for four months and he’d told you he was in love with you. You couldn’t say it back, you found him attractive, of course but that spark hadn’t started so when he told you that his had you broke it off so you didn’t string him along. He wasn’t happy.

“I never stood a fucking chance did I?” He shouted at you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You snapped.

“You hold me to some ridiculous expectation that he’s set.” He growled at you and you rolled your eyes. Every single one of your exes had claimed that you were in love with Tom and that’s why you couldn’t love them back.

“He’s my best friend Nick. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You two are way too close. It’s intimidating living in his shadow.” He shouted again.

“I haven’t once said that I compare you!” You screamed.

“You don’t have to. You probably don’t know you’re doing it.” He snapped. “You know what? It’s my own fault, I saw the way you looked at each other when I first met you. I should have gone with my gut that you could never fully want me back. I’m leaving, do yourself a favour and start being honest with yourself or you’ll never be fucking happy.” He snapped before he made his way out of the door.

That was an hour ago and here you were, sat on the couch, talking to Tuwaine who had heard the whole thing because he happened to be in.

“I don’t get it Tuwaine, he’s my best friend why do people always think I’m in love with him?” You sighed.

“I think you know the answer to that.” Tuwaine said with a sad smile. “It’s me now, be honest. Why can’t you love any of these men back? Don’t answer straight away, I want you to really think.” He spoke again and you sat as you thought about it. Really thought about it.

They’d all cuddled you. Just not like Tom. They’d all been good in bed. It’s just Tom was better. They all played with your hair. Tom was just more gentle with it. They all held your hand. But their hands never felt as soft but at the same time rugged like Tom’s. You posted them on social media. But it was still full of you and Tom. They all comforted you when you cried. But Tom was the only one who knew how to comfort you properly. You told them everything. You just always told Tom first. They cuddled you in bed. But you still slept better when Tom was next to you. They all tried so hard to gain your heart. But they couldn’t because it’s Tom’s.

Why couldn’t you love them back? Because you are in love with Tom.

“Oh.” You simply said and Tuwaine laughed.

“Finally!” Tuwaine said. “Watching you two pine after each other whilst simultaneously being in a relationship has been the strangest thing I have ever witnessed.” He laughed and you furrowed your brows.

“What?”

“Come on. You sleep together, you cuddle all the time, you’re practically obsessed with one another.” Tuwaine said and you furrowed your brows deeper.

“It’s not funny Tuwaine, what am I gonna tell Tom?” You asked.

“The truth?” Tuwaine said as if it was the most obvious and easiest thing in the world.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” You worried as your heart beat sped up at all the possibilities running around your head.

“I have a hunch it’ll go the way you want it to.” Was all Tuwaine said as Tom came through the door and your heart jumped into your throat.

“Hey!” Tom said, face lighting up as he saw you.

“Well this is my cue to leave the house for a while.” Tuwaine said loudly.

“What?” Tom asked confused.

“I am not sticking around to listen to you two fuck.” He laughed as he made his way out of the door.

“What’s his deal?” Tom asked eyebrows almost in his hairline. You realised that this was your moment. You had to tell him, for you. Nick was right, you’ll only be happy if you be honest with yourself.

“I broke up with Nick.” You said.

“Oh princess, are you okay?” He asked as he went to make his way over to you but you put a hand out to stop him. He looked at you confused before you sighed and closed your eyes before opening them and speaking.

“Tom, I don’t really know how to say it so I’m just gonna say it. I’ve come to a realisation today and I need to get it off my chest. I am in love with you and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I think deep down I’ve known for a while but I’m in love with you.” You said and you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, it felt right to say it. You hadn’t looked at Tom yet, finding anything else in the room to stare at as you spoke. He didn’t say anything and your heart dropped.

You closed your eyes one last time before looking at him, ready to face the heart break but as soon as you looked at his face it was plastered with an amused grin. You furrowed your brows.

“What?” You asked.

“Finally.” Tom said. What?

“What do you mean finally?” You asked almost gobsmacked. You’d just told him you loved him and this is his reaction? You’d pictured many, but not this.

“What I say. I know you are and I’m in love with you.” He stated, amused smile still plastered all over his features.

“What, you mean, hang on. What?” You stumbled over your words.

“I’m in love with you, I’ve known for a couple of months, after I broke up with Lucy. Tuwaine made me see sense.” He said and you looked at him gobsmacked. Why hadn’t he told you?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You voiced your confusion.

“Well you were still with Nick and you seemed pretty happy and I didn’t wanna upset you in case you hadn’t come to the realisation yet.” He shrugged and you laughed, genuinely laughed.

“So this entire time we’ve been running around playing house together and all we had to say was ‘I love you’ and we’d have saved ourselves all this time and effort on other people?” You laughed the more you thought about it. It really was ridiculous, everyone always said you were too close because you were always in a relationship without realising it. “I feel a bit ridiculous for not realising sooner.” You said.

“Yeah I felt like that until I realised that we’ve been close for so long it’s hard to pinpoint when I started loving you more than a friend, it just seemed so normal for us, you know. Tuwaine and Harrison called us soulmates.” He laughed.

“Not sure I believe in those but if you’re it then it’ll do.” You teased as he mocked offence and made his way over to you. “We always do fight like a couple.” You said as you realised Tom was the only person you ever had an argument with that was fuelled by passion. He hummed.

“We always do post about each other like a couple.” He said as his hands found your waist and yours found his shoulders.

“And hold hands like a couple do.” You said as his face inched closer to yours.

“Cuddle like a couple to.” He whispered face inching so much closer.

“Have special nicknames for each other.” You whispered, faces ridiculously close now.

“We most definitely fuck like a couple.” He whispered one last time, lips ghosting yours before closing the small amount of distance and capturing your lips. It was passionate and full of all the love everything you did always was. Your hands found his hair as you lightly tugged and he pulled you impossibly closer by your waist, tongue skimming your bottom lip for entrance which you happily granted. You stayed like that for a while before Tom eventually carried you upstairs. Tuwaine was smart to leave when he did.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n