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mrs-gucci · 4 years ago

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Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking.

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense. But this doesn’t make sense…

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five.

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again.

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair.

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him.

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday.

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure.

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him.

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue.

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand. “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say.

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator.

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb.

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another.

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit.

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly.

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom.

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room.

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly.

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine.

This is gonna be a long night.

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’.

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago.

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune.

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling.

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh.

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit.

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless.

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place.

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you.

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor.

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin.

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms.

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close.

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features.

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace.

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face.

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face.

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out.

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod.

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer.

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away.

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling.

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come.

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed.

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together.

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot.

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly.

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs.

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf.

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone.

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons.

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure.

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt.

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you.

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently.

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple.

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip.

He laughs softly.

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink.

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat.

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release.

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally.

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster.

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry.

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out.

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back.

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes.

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding.

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts.

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly.

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes.

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate.

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head.

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you.

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding.

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself.

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you.

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now.

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm.

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently.

After a short while, he looks up at you.

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself.

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly.

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail.

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door.

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer.

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open.

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him.

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci fluff #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #maurizio gucci x reader fluff #tw: infidelity #house of gucci

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allelitefics · 4 years ago

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Being with you Pt. 1

Characters: Sammy Guevara x Reader

...Potentially Chris Jericho x Reader in the future :O

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Sammy for several years now, and you finally decide it’s time to give it a chance with him. As much as you both want each other, it’s your individual futures that come into question...

Warnings: fluff/smut

Taglist: @fiskers7136 @princessminjikwon @im-a-nerd-fight-me @allelitexo @donnithestar @jonsmoxley @lilred91

I know some people have asked to be on the tag list .. I’m going to make a new post to get my new people on the tag list!

Sammy was so excited that you were finally a part of the AEW team. He had been trying hard for months to get you to be a part of the tech team, with your years of experience working behind the scenes for your local news outlet in Houston he finally was able to work into getting you an interview and you were hired on the spot. Being one of his best friends for the past 7 years or so definitely was interesting. There was this constant flirtation between the two of you but you resisted on pursuing anything more with him. Although you had a feeling things would now change between the two of you now that you were working together.

"Oh man, your girl is finally here huh?" Santana said to Sammy backstage in the Inner Circle locker room. "Yeah..dude I'm so excited...especially with my birthday celebration.. it's gonna be a good time. She even said she'd room with me." The others laughed, they saw his excitement. He talked about you constantly, he always wanted more but was afraid because of the things you expressed you wanted for your future, in particular a family. You were 3 years older than him, and just turned 30. The types of guys you dated just didn't hold up to what you wanted which is why you figured you'd take on this new adventure of traveling for your job and meeting new people. "We can't wait to meet her!" Chris said, he was always supportive of Sammy and looked at him like a son. "Well, why wait, let me see where she's at." Sammy said reaching for his phone.

You were in the middle of a meeting and getting familiar with the equipment when your phone buzzed. You checked quickly and smiled when you saw it was Sammy wondering where you were. You texted him back sharing your location as you went back to carrying on with the equipment. You loved being around the talent and meeting the girls, although you weren't a performer you sure liked to present yourself well. Even if you had jeans an an AEW crew shirt on, your hair and makeup was one thing you always did.

You felt two arms sneak up from behind you wrapping them around your waist. You smiled. "Hey Sammy." you say then turn around. "Hey gorgeous" he said with a grin. "The guys want to meet you, are you busy?" You glance around, "I think I could sneak off for a few minutes." "Perfect." he says taking your hand. As you walk closer to what seems to be a locker room he looks over at you and you look at him, "What?" you say trying not to smile. "I'm just really happy you're here." You then let that smile out, "Yeah me too, birthday boy." "Best birthday present ever, you being here with me." You shake your head and try not to blush, he's always had that affect on you.

Truthfully, the reason you two never got together in the past was that he was pretty honest about being on the road and the occasional hookups at the bar with whatever promotion he was working with. You respected that honesty, and you saw the playboy he could be, it was something you weren't interested in..even though there was definitely a physical attraction between the two of you.

When he was back home from being on the road, he was always at your door. Missing you, wanting to hang out, and you found yourself falling asleep on the couch in his arms most weekends.

Sammy knocked on the door, "Is everyone decent?" he shouted. "Yep!" they all shouted back in unison. He opened the door and led you inside his locker room where you saw some very familiar faces from TV. "Everyone this is Y/N... Y/N this is everyone." "Hey guys!" you said joyfully. Jericho came up to you first, "It's nice to meet you." he said putting out his hand. "This guy talks about you nonstop, it's nice to finally meet you and have you join our team." You were grinning so hard, "Oh wow.. thank you.. sorry I've just been a huge fan like my whole life." you say feeling your cheeks turn red. Sammy started laughing at you to which you then hit his arm. Jericho laughed and then smiled one of those very charming smiles of his, "yeah I heard." You then look over at Sammy, "you just tell everyone everything about me, huh?" Sammy shrugged. "He's mildly obsessed with you." Jake added in the background. You giggled, "Yeah I'm starting to realize that since everyone knows everything about me." you say. You look over at Sammy and the way he's looking at you is slightly different..you've loved him dearly as a friend but the way he's looking at you is more than a friend. "Well I guess I should get back to it." you say. Sammy walks you back out. "So tonight." he mentions. "yeah I'm excited to celebrate." "Yeah me too." he says. "I'm excited you're staying with me." "Yeah I figure why not..we've shared a bed plenty of times before." "I don't know if i'll be able to keep my hands to myself this time though." You look at him, he shrugs, "Just being honest." "Mmhmm" you respond.

------

You're back in the hotel room before Sammy is trying to figure out the right dress to wear to the bars tonight and as you find the one you want he walks into the room. "Hot damn!" he says right away, "What a beautiful sight to walk in on." "Oh shush!" you say brushing him off. "No seriously." he says, he sits down on the edge of the bed. "Come here." he licks his lips and you walk over to him. A while ago you decided tonight would be the night you finally gave into your emotions, to your needs, you wants from him. He grabs your waist and looks up at you, "Goddamn, I need you..." he says softly. You look down and then he stands up and grabs you by the back of your head pulling you into so that your lips collide. He pulls the dress off of you and you feel your back hit the bed, everything is happening so quickly and your body is responding to his every touch. "Do you want this?" he asks while he's on top of you, looking in your eyes. You nod your head, "Yes, i need you." you say. He strips the rest of his clothes off that were still on and enters you with ease. Your body was so ready for him. "Shit" he curses because of how good you feel. The way he plays with your clit while he thrusts in and out of you makes you come to orgasm multiple times. "Fuck" you curse back, "You feel so good" you follow up with. He's close to coming to his climax and you feel him release on your inner thigh. He falls back on the bed beside you. "Wow" he said. You look over and smile. "Yeah wow." you follow up with. "Fucking 8 years i've waited for this." he says and you laugh. "Seriously, Y/N..." "I know Sammy.." you say. "We should get ready for your party." you say. "Yeah." he looks at you, wanting to tell you how he feels but he doesn't want to scare you off, not yet. Not when he just finally got you.

#sammy guevara x reader #sammy guevara fan fiction #sammy guevara fanfiction #aew fanfiction

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momentofmemory · 5 years ago

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fictober - day six

Prompt #6: “Yes, I’m aware. Your point?”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Discussion of Parental Death, Bullying

Rating: G

Characters: Peter Parker & May Parker

Words: 2867

Author’s Note: part iv of a may & peter series, but works on its own. i made a terrible mistake the second i set a 2K precedent on these things, but i’m honestly really happy with how this turned out, so. enjoy. :)

>>Pros and Cons

Peter is ten years old, and whenever May watches him finish his math homework, his mind is so far beyond hers it feels like he should be the one helping her.

She knows he’s brilliant—with parents like his, how could he not be—and his teachers start suggesting they look into science magnets before he even enters middle school. She and Ben try to support his passions as much as they can, but the endowment Mary and Richard left has long since run out, and they can only afford so many expenses at once.

Which is why, when Peter comes home from school with sparkling eyes and a crinkled permission slip clutched in his hand, May feels a familiar sense of guilt creep up her spine.

“Hi May!” Peter chirps, slinging his backpack and the piece of paper down on the dining room table.

“Hi yourself,” she says, picking the bag back up and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Snack’s in the kitchen.”

Peter makes a beeline for the peanut butter sandwich in question—one of the few things Ben allows May to make, mostly because it involves zero actual kitchen appliances—and shoves half of it in his mouth. “You won’t believe what happened at school today.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” May says, picking up the note from where it had fallen.

Peter swallows down white bread and store-brand peanut butter while May flips the permission slip over and reads the summary. Apparently there’s some kind of open lab session at the Museum of Science this Friday, and anyone from Peter’s school who wants to go is allowed to count it as one of their field trips for the year. It also includes an overnight lock-in for all kids ten and over, a cut off that Peter just barely meets.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Peter gushes, his sandwich properly consumed. “Mr. Abrams said there might even be an arc reactor replica in the special exhibit section!”

“I think we agreed to avoid all forms of Stark tech after the last expo you went to.” May hears Peter pour a glass of milk as she continues reading.

“This is totally different, May! No bad guys whatsoever.” He pauses. “Unless Flash shows up.”

“Who’s—”

“Anyway we get to go for like the entire day and do our own experiments and everything, it’s going to be awesome!” Peter skids back into the dining room and sits in one of the chairs, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. He stares up at her. “Soooo. I can go, right? Ned said he was going!”

May’s eyes find the dollar signs in the fine print and she winces: all expenses not paid. “I don’t know, Peter… didn’t you have another field trip just last month?”

“Yeah, but that was for the Museum of Math. Totally different.”

May frowns and rubs at her temples.

Peter, sensing her reluctance, launches himself to his feet. “I’ll get the board!”

“Peter—” May warns, but he’s scrambling off to the closet before she can stop him.

The board had been Ben’s idea: when Peter was seven, he’d bought an eleven by seventeen inch whiteboard and drawn a line in permanent ink down the middle, with “Peter” written on one side, and “The Adult” written on the other. The concept had been to help Peter learn how to balance pros and cons, and Peter had taken to it so well that he quickly learned to follow along without the visual. They still brought it out on occasion for added effect—like right now, apparently.

Peter returns from his quest and places the board on the table. He pops the cap off of the dry erase marker, and drawing a tally mark in the section labeled Peter, says, “One: it would be totally awesome. Point for me.”

He holds the marker out to May expectantly. After a moment, she sighs and takes it from him. “You’ve already gone on the required number of field trips for this semester.”

Peter frowns as May draws a line on her side. “I can qualify for extra credit if I go on more, though.”

“You’re at the top of your class, Peter, you don’t need any credit.” May draws a line on both her side and his side. “And aren’t you supposed to be saving money for the end of the year school project?”

Another line.

Peter scrunches up his face in thought, then grins. “Yeah, but I got a whole ten dollars from Mr. Delmar yesterday for helping look after his cat!”

…Line.

They continue swapping points for the next few minutes, and May has to admit that Peter does have a fair number of valid arguments. The board quickly fills up and by the time they’ve both run out of steam, there are ten careful lines drawn on both of their sides.

Peter stares miserably at the score: Parker rules state that all ties go to the adult. “…Ned will be there?”

May taps the marker against her thigh. “Yes, I’m aware.”

Peter’s eyes shoot back and forth between May and the whiteboard.

She sighs. “…Your point.”

Peter whoops in triumph as May draws the winning line in his side of the board, and she rolls her eyes and makes a mental note to ask for an extra shift tomorrow to make up for her lapse in judgement.

She doesn’t really mind, though. The electricity in Peter’s smile could generate enough energy to light up their entire apartment.

Peter talks about almost nothing but the trip for the next four days, and his enthusiasm is so infectious May finds she’s pretty excited about it, too.

Still, she has to remind him three times to pack his toothbrush and other necessities, and when he starts debating whether he should bring a change of clothes or the circuit board he’s been building out of parts fished from the dumpster, May wonders if he’s ready for an entire night on his own after all. She mentions this to Ben, who gets hung up on the fact that Peter has built an entire circuit board out of parts fished from the dumpster.

May concedes to this argument without having to get the whiteboard out.

Finally, Friday morning comes, and May bullies Ben into letting her drive so she can take Peter to school without risking being late for work herself. Peter clutches his backpack and chatters nonstop about all the things he’s hoping to build, but as they approach the parking lot his eagerness starts to dampen.

May flicks her blinker on and glances at him in the rearview mirror. “Drop off or walk you in?”

Peter runs his finger across the zipper on his backpack. “Walk in?”

“Sure thing, Tiger.”

May parks the car and takes Peter’s hand into hers, and together they walk up the marble steps of the school. His class is meeting outside, waiting for the Activities Bus to arrive, and May can see that several of the kids are already in the drop off area. She stops at the top of the steps and squeezes Peter’s shoulder.

“Got your toothbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Toothpaste?”

“Yes.”

“And that circuit board?”

Peter crinkles his nose and shrugs. “…Maybe.”

May shakes her head, and then gives him a little push towards his class. Peter stumbles a bit, caught off guard—poor guy’s always been a little clumsy—and then suddenly he’s spinning around and May has a ten year old wrapped around her waist.

“Bye, May,” he says, voice muffled by her coat. A warmth that has nothing to do with body heat steals into her chest, and she hugs him back.

“Bye, Peter.” She ruffles his hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Peter nods, and then he’s scampering off, his reticence all but forgotten as he sees Ned waiting for him.

May watches a moment longer, just enjoying seeing him laugh, and then shoves her hands in her pockets and hurries back to her car.

Having the apartment just to Ben and herself when she gets off work does, May will admit, have its perks—namely, having Ben to herself. She can’t help but feel a little anxious about Peter, but her cell phone never rings and there’s nothing in her inbox, so she relaxes and allows herself to enjoy a quiet evening with her husband.

That sense of peace continues until she picks Peter up the next morning, and he refuses to look at her.

She’d thought he’d be bubbling over with stories from the evening, but all of his answers are perfunctory at best and snappish at worst, so May gives up trying to prompt him and just reminds him they need to pick some things up before going home.

Peter says nothing in response, and May knows something is very, very wrong.

It’s late on a Saturday morning, which means the tourists are out in full force when May and a very sullen Peter arrive at the market. May starts weaving her way through the crowd, and when a burly man bumps into her and separates her from Peter, for a heart-stopping second she thinks she’s lost him. The crowd parts and she catches sight of his blue backpack, and she snatches up his hand before he can disappear again.

May is shocked when he jerks away.

“Peter?”

He balls his fists and looks away, and another person barges between them because it’s New York.

“Peter,” May repeats, dodging around them. “Give me your hand before you get lost.”

“I won’t get lost,” Peter says, and juts his lower lip out.

“What—? Come on, I don’t have time for this, you need to—”

“I don’t need you.”

May looks at Peter in shock. “Excuse me?”

His cheeks flush and his head turns sharply away, but he doesn’t take it back. And then, so quiet May almost misses it, he whispers, “You’re not my mother.”

May swallows dry air, and even though the crowd has forced them together, she’s never felt so far away from him.

“Fine,” she says. “You follow me, then.”

May spins on her heel and makes her way to the vegetable vender, and while she’d like to say she doesn’t look back, she does, because she’s terrified he won’t be there.

She and Peter finish the rest of the errands in a similar fashion, responses clipped and Peter avoiding any kind of contact, no matter how incidental—even when she hands him the grocery bag to carry, he goes out of his way to keep their hands from brushing. When they get home, Peter goes straight to his room without even saying hi to Ben. He looks at her in bewilderment, about to head out the door himself.

May shrugs helplessly, and texts Ned’s mom before kissing her husband goodbye.

Fifteen minutes later, May’s staring at a blurry photo from yesterday of Peter hugging May on the steps, with the caption ‘MOMMA’S BOY—OH WAIT, HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE’ written on it.

After an intense interrogation, Ned admits Flash had texted the photo to the entire class, and had tormented Peter with it until one of the teachers stepped in (conveniently just before the parents arrived). He also swears Flash didn’t get ahold of it until that morning, so Peter really did have a good time for most of the trip.

…Just not the end.

May thanks Ned for his honesty and hangs up the phone. She drops her head into her hands and her hair curtains her face.

Couldn’t Parker luck have given him a break just once?

She sits in silence and wonders how on earth she’s going to fix this. Then she stands, pulls back her hair, and puts the kettle on the stove—Ben isn’t here to stop her—and fixes two slightly scalded mugs of hot chocolate.

She taps on Peter’s door, mugs balanced precariously in one hand. There’s no response, but Peter doesn’t tell her to go away, either. She takes it as the closest to an invitation as she’s going to get.

The lights are off, and Peter’s backpack has been abandoned on the floor, and the circuit board he’d been so proud of looks a lot more warped than May remembered it being. Peter himself is curled up on his bed, facing the wall. He rolls over onto his back when May walks in, though his gaze remains fixed on the ceiling. The tear tracks on his face glisten in the light from the door.

“Ned told you?”

“He’s a good friend.” May sets the mugs down on his bedside table. “I’m going to have a long talk with your teachers about this.”

Peter lets out a long breath. “I should quit school.”

“I think we might be getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Nope.” Peter rubs his arm across his face. “Actually I don’t think I can go out in public again. Ever.”

May looks at him thoughtfully, then walks out of the room. She comes back a few moments later carrying the whiteboard, and Peter groans.

“No, May, come on.”

“Too late,” May says, marking the board. “Point one: never having to face Flash again.”

Peter peeks out from under his arm and frowns. “You put that on the Adult side.”

“Correct. We’re playing Devil’s advocate today: I argue for your side, you argue for mine. Your turn.”

“This seems unfair,” Peter says, but he pulls himself into a seated position and takes one of the mugs. “I… would never graduate or get a job?”

May places two marks under Peter, and then one under Adult. “Counterpoint: lots of people work from home. You could do everything online for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to make like, friends and stuff. Or go see movies.”

May draws another two marks and Peter scowls. “I feel like it’s unfair that you’re marking down two for me and only one for you every time.”

“Stop making so many points, then,” May replies. “How about this: no friends means no one can make fun of you for having them.”

“I think not having things was the problem, actually.”

May freezes midway through drawing the line. Shit.

Peter offers her a watery smile. “Maybe put that on the other side?”

He seems sad, but sincere enough, so May wipes her finger over the unfinished line and places one on Peter’s. She sets the board down. “Peter, I—”

“I’m sorry.” Tears swim into Peter’s eyes and drop into his cocoa. “I didn’t mean it when I said—I said—” He holds the mug tighter to his chest. “…I just really miss her.”

May closes her eyes, and then sits down on the bed next to Peter and pulls him to her. “Me too, Peter. Me too.”

She runs her hand through his hair. “Did I ever tell you how much you remind me of her?”

Peter looks up. “…Really?”

“Really.”

May picks up the second mug for herself, and as they drink their cocoa May tells Peter about how much she loved the sound of Mary’s laugh. The way she always tossed her hair back and how her entire body would shake, holding nothing back, and the sheer exuberance she had for life—similar to Peter’s, in many ways. About all the trouble they used to get into together, and how happy Mary’d been when Peter was born. How she thought he hung the moon, and how she wanted to give him the stars in return. How much she loved him.

“May?”

She takes a sip of cocoa and hums.

Peter plays with his thumbs. “…I really didn’t mean it.”

Chocolate coats May’s tongue before gliding down her throat, but it doesn’t feel nearly as warm as Peter’s words. “I know, buddy. I need you, too.”

Peter glows, and May takes the last sip of her drink.

“Now. Since you’ve decided hanging out with me is cool again,” May says, wiping down the board, “wanna go dumpster diving for some tech while I tell you some more stories?”

“Really?” Peter’s thousand-watt smile lights up his face.

May plucks the empty cocoa cup out of his hand. “Really. We might even hit up some of the fancier ones in Manhattan, if you’re really lucky.”

“Whoa, cool!”

Peter races off to get his jacket and shoes, and May smiles. She doesn’t have the foggiest idea what kinds of things to help Peter look for, but she’d spent a night or two playing lookout for one Mary Parker during her wilder years. She was more than willing to watch over Mary’s son, too.

She stands and puts the whiteboard back in the closet, closing the door just as Peter finishes putting on his boots.

“Ready?”

Peter nods vigorously, and May grabs her keys as they walk out, locking the door behind them. May starts to walk down the stairs, and then a small hand slips into hers.

May looks down in surprise, and Peter flushes, but doesn’t let go. May squeezes his hand and doesn’t say anything as they walk out onto the streets, because she’s not his mom, and that’s okay.

She’s still his, and he’s still hers, and that’s all they need.

#fictober19 #tw:bullying #tw: parental death #peter parker #peter parker fic #may parker #spiderman #fanfiction #i'm 100% going to need to go over these for repetitive lines #but for now #yay #<3 #may&peter #memsfic

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winterisakillerwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Realization

One Shot: Last Minutes & Lost Evenings 2/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/ Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Love was never supposed to be part of the equation.

Rating: PG

Warnings/Authors Notes: This is the second part of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

For the first time in far too long, Tom felt as though he could breathe.

The past few months had been nonstop motion. He seemed to fly from promotion to promotion. An interview here, a photoshoot there, pre-production meetings, it never seemed to end. He had smiled and flirted and been the Tom Hiddleston everyone expected of him. It was draining. He had felt himself slowly dwindling down, his temper flaring far more often and far hotter than situation allowed. He was tired. Not just physically, though god knows he could feel the weariness straight to the bone, but emotionally as well. Exhausted and weary and frighteningly near the end of his tether.

But here, now, he felt at peace. It amazed him still, the comfort her small apartment brought him. Or well, if he were being completely honest, that she brought him. Everything was simpler, easier. He could just be and dear god it was wonderful. It was his own personal heaven and he would guard it fiercely.

The apartment was quiet. He could hear the soft patter of Rosemary in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets; the soft chink of a spoon against the sides of a mug. Tea, he realized, lovely. It brought a smile to his face, these simple things she did for him. The quiet, warm affection she bore him.

His smile widened as she appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug in each hand. He took his, offering her a small nod in thanks. A warm smile spread across her features, answering his own. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” he nodded, pushing his admitted shaggy hair back from his forehead, “Very much so,” His voice was still scratchy with sleep. He waved his hand, beckoning her to join him. Her smile grew as she climbed onto the bed, settling comfortably against him.

She felt wonderful pressed against his side, her head resting against his bare shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his free hand quickly up and down her arm. He’d always found any excuse to touch her, to hold her. She always seemed to fit so perfectly against him. They had passed countless hours in just such a manner; huddled together in her bed, on her couch, in her minuscule kitchen. They had talked about everything and nothing. It was comfortable. Just to be simply Tom and Rosie. No commitments, no demands.

He cherished these stolen moments. He had done so for the nearly year and a half that they’d been doing this. She was a safe harbor.

His eyes landed on the digital clock sitting on her bed stand. It was fast approaching late morning and he knew she would have to leave him, if only for a few hours. Usually their time together was just theirs, neither letting their real lives encroach for as long as possible. But his arrival had been unannounced. He’d found himself free and in desperate need of her so he’d come, knowing full well she very likely had commitments that she could not shirk. He was being utterly selfish.

“When do you have to be off?” He tried to keep his tone as neutral as he could.

“I don’t,” She smirked, snuggling tighter against him. “Perks of being your own boss. Jules is running things today. So it looks like you’re stuck with me for the time being, mister.”

He grinned, delight etched across his features. “Wonderful.”

I love her. The thought flitted across his mind so swiftly he wasn’t quite sure he understood it at the time. Rosie was wonderful; simple and elegant, warm and open. She had become something so vital in his life, it was impossible for him not to care for her. But love? It was ridiculous. He couldn’t love her. But I do. God help me I do.

What he didn’t know was just what he could, or honestly should, do about it. He was well and truly fucked.

“You alright there?” Her voice snapped Tom back to himself.

It took him several moments to gain hold of his voice. “Yes. Sorry, my mind went on walkabout for a moment there.” He took what he hoped wasn’t a shaky breath, pushing his startling revelation aside. He would think on it later, because venturing down that rabbit hole could only lead to disaster. Better simply to let it be.

He placed another kiss to the top of her head. Just let it be, Hiddleston. Just let it be.

~*~*~

He really was absolutely stunning. Rosemary could easily spend all day just watching him do the most mundane of tasks, truth be told she often did in the sixth months that they had been doing this. He had an unassuming grace about him that effortlessly drew you in. He was currently working through an impressive pile of laundry. He’d come straight to hers from the airport, something that happened more often than not lately, his large and rather beaten lone suitcase in tow. How he managed to cram so much into one case she couldn’t fathom; even if it consisted of several of the same jumpers and dark jeans with a handful of t-shirts and dress clothes for variety.

She smiled at the way his forehead wrinkled, his mouth upturned, as he focused on sorting through each article and loading them painstakingly in her tiny washing machine. Why he didn’t use his own, she’d never understand. She knew better than to offer help, she’d tried the first time he’d descended on her and he’d outright refused. “I’m already invading your life, the last thing I want, darling, is to ask you to do my washing.” She had protested this, but Tom had stood firm. Whatever they were, and she never dared ask him to provide a label, she was neither his laundress nor his mother. Stubborn bastard.

“When you sit there staring at me like that, I can’t help feel a bit like a performing monkey.” He announced, his voice warm with humor, his attention never wavering from the pile of clothing before him.

“I thought you liked putting on a show?” she teased.

His eyes flicked to her then, a knowing smirk crossing his features. “If this is your idea of a show, Rosie my dear, you most certainly need to get out more.” She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach when he called her Rosie. He was one of the few who did. She lived her life as Rosemary, occasionally Rose to an older acquaintance. She was Rosie only to her family, and now to him. It was silly, really, that something so simple could mean so much. It made her feel special. Cherished. She mattered enough for him to give her a pet name. God, she was ridiculous.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s the most entertaining show I’ve ever seen. It could use a bit more skin for my taste…” She quirked an eyebrow, returning his smirk.

Tom sighed, turning his attention fully to her. “You only want me for my body.” His eyes were wide, plaintive and forlorn. “And here I thought you actually cared.”

She groaned internally. Fuck this man and his fucking expressive face! God, he must have been an absolute terror as a child. “You really don’t understand the concept of playing fair, do you Hiddleston?”

“Why ever would I do that?” His face transformed once again into a bright smile. “It’s far too much fun this way.”

“You’re a jerk,” she retorted, unable to mask her own smile.

He laughed heartily, his attention turning back to the clothing piled before him. “And yet you love me anyway.”

Rosemary nearly started at the statement. It had been a throwaway line, she was quite sure he hadn’t even realized what he’d said, but she knew in that moment that it was true. She loved him. She had to fight to keep herself from laughing aloud at the thought. Jesus, she loved him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Of course she loved him, how could she not? He was a good man. Stubborn to a fault, yes, and guarded at the best of times, but a good man. He was kind and patient and he cared. She knew that, it was clear in every action, every touch, but she was no fool. Caring for someone and loving them were two vastly different things. And while she was assured in her own feelings, how she could ever not have realized how deeply she cared seemed utterly absurd, his were less certain. He cared for her, he was fond of her, that she knew without a doubt. He seemed content in their arrangement, though, in their careful construct of sex and companionship, in the ability to hide himself away in their tiny, little world. There were no commitments, no complications, no demands. And given the life she knew he led, the fluidity of their arrangement had to hold a strong appeal.

This revelation would throw a wrench in that, she was well aware. Feelings weren’t ever a concrete part of this. She was an escape, pure and simple, she knew that. Accepted it. Putting a voice to to her newly realized emotional state could well drive him off. Not that she believed Tom would be so callous. No. But he could, probably would pull away. And somehow that seemed worse. And even if he didn’t push her away, if he loved her in return, what would that honestly mean for them?

She shook herself from her thoughts. There was no sense in fretting now. Not while he was here. There would be plenty time after to figure things out. To make sense of it all. He was here now and that was what she needed to focus on. Tom, it seemed, hadn’t even noticed her inattention and for that she was grateful. She swallowed and forced herself back into the present. He was with her now and she would make the best of that. There would be time later to dwell on just what she was going to do.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Rosie #Last Minutes & Lost Evenings

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winterisakiller · 6 years ago

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Realization

One Shot: Last Minutes and Lost Evenings 2/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/ Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Love was never supposed to be part of the equation.

Rating: PG

Warnings/Authors Notes: This is the second part of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

For the first time in far too long, Tom felt as though he could breathe.

He cherished these stolen moments. He had done so for the nearly year and a half that they’d been doing this. She was a safe harbor.

“When do you have to be off?” He tried to keep his tone as neutral as he could.

“I don’t,” She smirked, snuggling tighter against him. “Perks of being your own boss. Jules is running things today. So it looks like you’re stuck with me for the time being, mister.”

He grinned, delight etched across his features. “Wonderful.”

What he didn’t know was just what he could, or honestly should, do about it. He was well and truly fucked.

“You alright there?” Her voice snapped Tom back to himself.

He placed another kiss to the top of her head. Just let it be, Hiddleston. Just let it be.

~*~*~

“I thought you liked putting on a show?” she teased.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s the most entertaining show I’ve ever seen. It could use a bit more skin for my taste…” She quirked an eyebrow, returning his smirk.

Tom sighed, turning his attention fully to her. “You only want me for my body.” His eyes were wide, plaintive and forlorn. “And here I thought you actually cared.”

“Why ever would I do that?” His face transformed once again into a bright smile. “It’s far too much fun this way.”

“You’re a jerk,” she retorted, unable to mask her own smile.

He laughed heartily, his attention turning back to the clothing piled before him. “And yet you love me anyway.”

#tom hiddleston #fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x original character #last minutes and lost evenings #Tom & Rosie

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terry-perry · 6 years ago

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Promises pt. 1

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warning: Breakup angst, 2012!Loki

A/N: Requested by an Anon! I’ve wanted to make this as angsty as possible, but ended up making it longer than expected while doing so. So I cut it into two parts. First part set around Thor and The Avengers.

Years ago...

“This is the third time this month you’ve returned with this request,” Heimdall stated to the young prince. “You’re usually more discreet with these meetings,”

“This one is a matter of importance Heimdall,” Loki explained. “It can’t wait another month or so,”

Loki could’ve sworn he saw the corners of Heimdall’s lips curl up somewhat, though it was too little to properly notice.

“This is unlike you Loki,” he stated. “Not the sneaking around; that’s almost expected of you. What’s out of character is the lengths you’re going through to be with this Midgardian. Even for an insignificant amount of time. She must be someone truly special.”

Loki rolled his eyes at that, but he also couldn’t help but agree internally with the effect you had on him.

“Just be sure to keep this between us, as always,” he merely replied with.

“If your father or brother insist on knowing your whereabouts, I’ll have no choice but to tell them,” Heimdall stated, repeating the words he spoke every time Loki planned on going to Earth.

And also as always, Loki attempted to use his silver tongue to help reassure the sentry.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to keep this brief.”

You looked out the window, deep in thought. Your mind seemed to be racing nonstop nowadays, thinking about when you’d see Loki again. The two of you had been in your secret relationship for many months now, and it was truly amazing for the most part. Yet with how he was from somewhere else beyond your world, his encounters with you were sometimes made short. It was as though the two of you were like an otherworldly Romeo and Juliet.

Romantic thoughts that were crossing your head were interrupted by the jiggling of the doorknob to your front door. You turned your head to the noise, your lovely thinking replaced with worry. The jiggling stopped, now turning to the sound of the door opening. You grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed and tiptoed out of your room. You crept into the hallway and spotted the lights in your kitchen that you knew were meant to be off.

You tightened the grip on your bat as you heard light scuffling, preparing yourself ready to strike. That was until your view made sight of your boyfriend standing in the middle of your den as if waiting for you. He showed off a grin when admiring your defensive state.

“Loki…” you breathed out in a loving manner, all fear leaving you in an instant.

“{NAME}...” Loki responded just as warm and feathery.

You dropped the bat and immediately ran into his arms, resulting in him almost tumbling to the floor. Luckily he was able to find his footing again and gave out a small laugh as the two of you tightly held each other.

“Baby, you said we needed to be more careful with our meetings,” you told him, pulling away somewhat to look at him.

“My love, you should know by now that my word hardly means a thing,” he teased before reverting back to his sincere state.“I just couldn’t stay away for too long.”

“I’ve been missing you too,” you whispered into his shoulder. “The longer you’re gone, the more it feels like this is all just some incredible dream.”

“I promise you darling, it won’t be long until we can finally be together,”

“You say that every time we meet,”

“Well this time I mean it. I’ve decided to leave Asgard and come here to be with you.”

You pulled away again, surprised and unsure about what your lover just said. “No. Loki, are you serious?”

He nodded, his hands going over yours resting on his chest.

“My brother is set to take the throne any day now. Once he’s done so, I’ll tell my family about us.”

“That is a really big decision,” you stated, slightly shaking your head. “Are you sure that you’ve fully thought this through? I don’t want you to throw away any possibility of a good future for yourself over being with me.”

Loki took your hands in his fully, your fingers entwining.

“Any future I have wouldn’t be complete without you {NAME},” he admitted softly, his rare vulnerability beginning to fully come out. You seemed to be the only one who had the ability to bring it out like that.

“I don’t care if my powers are taken away from me. I’d rather have a mortal life here with you, where we can share a home together, get married, maybe even start a family of our own if you’d like.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as a small smile formed as a result from hearing all he wished to have with you. With a little, yet affectionate, beam of his own, Loki released one of his hands to hold the side of your face.

“I’d love that,” you spoke in a hush.

Several months later….

You lied on your stomach in bed; your pillow that rested under your chin helped elevate your view somewhat of the window in your room showing the starry night. You watched in silent wonder the numerous falling stars go by. Nights like that one always had you making a wish on each star that you saw soaring by. And it was always the same wish. Even a part of you hoping that he was one of those stars, making his way back to you.

You had lost count of the days since you had last seen Loki. It was normal for him to be gone for about a month or two since he wanted to keep his interactions with you as inconspicuous as possible from his strict father. But with your last encounter being what it was, you had expected him to return to you as soon as he could. Had his family found out about his secret relationship with you and forbade him to see you again? Or had he perhaps gotten cold feet and decided to stay on Asgard instead?

No. Not your Loki. You knew he wouldn’t have just left you alone without an explanation. Something must’ve happened after your last meeting that resulted in his longer than usual absence. Just when you were about to close your eyes to make your wish once again, you heard your front door being opened.

It can’t be! You thought.

Had your wishing gone far enough to actually get you what you wanted?

Not wanting to be too optimistic, you reached for your bat and got up to investigate. Feeling a moment of deja vu, you silently inched your way to the center of your apartment. With Cautious steps, you stepped out until reaching to your destination. Once again you were meant with the sight of none other than your Loki standing in front of you. Overcome with deep longing, you had no choice but to hug him.

“Lok!” You called out eagerly. “Where have you been? I had thought the worst!”

Getting no response, you pulled back to see the man before you. He transformed his Midgardian attire into his usual Asgardian outfit, along with some kind of antler-like crown and glowing scepter. You stared at this new sight with confusion.

“Loki…” you managed to exhale. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve come to a realization,” he finally responded with. “You were meant to rule beside me. As my queen.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, completely dumbfounded.

He paced around your den, having you watch him illustrate all he had in mind.

“I was never meant to rule Asgard,” he explained. “I was meant for things far beyond my world. I was right before in saying that I stay on this world with you!”

He halted his pacing to share an almost too out of character gleeful grin with you, then continuing with his excitement on his own. But also going on with expressing this epiphany to you.

“I should’ve never tried to compare myself to my father, or my oafish brother,” he said. “Because I’ve realized recently that I can be so much more. Especially since I shall have a worthy Queen by my side to help with anything that gets in our way.”

He walked towards you, but you walked further back.

“{NAME}?” He questioned you, taking another step forward, yet with uncertainty.

Like him, you mimicked your actions and stepped away.

“I’m not afraid to do this on my own, but I’d rather do this with the woman I love,”

With that he stuck out his hand. The side of you that had missed your lover begged you to grab ahold of it. Yet you attached your gaze onto his icy blue stare. When doing so, the other side of you that was growing uncertain of this new demeanor of his was warning you to be weary. Telling you that once you took his hand, danger would soon follow everywhere you two would go.

“What about what we had talked about the last time we were together?” You asked, trying to stay hopeful. “What about all that you promised we’d have? A home, marriage, children?”

He stroked his knuckle against your cheek, resulting in a shudder from you. Though you wondered if it was from pleasure or fear.

“We can still have all that,” he claimed. “And more.”

“But I never wanted anything more,” you exclaimed, releasing yourself from his touch by stepping back again.

“Loki, what we had dreamt about in the past, seems like it’ll stay in the past. Because this new mindset you have developed is not what we had agreed upon when planning for the future,”

It was his turn to step back, in disbelief with what you had to say about the situation.

“This isn’t you Loki,” you continued. “I don’t know what’s happened to make you act this way. But whatever it is you have planned, you leave me out of it.”

You noticed the grip on the scepter he held grew tighter as his fist grew whiter than normal.

“If you will not join me,” he responded in an almost growl, his usually light eyes darkening whilst keeping his stare at you. “I shall have no choice but to see you as merely another complication in my path.”

“Then so be it,” you simply answered with, doing all that you could to remain stoic.

He advanced towards you again, resulting in you having your back hitting the wall when walking back. You thought you might’ve seen the scepter he held take an almost hesitant pause at tilting forward, on its way to tap your chest. But the action happened before you could hardly blink. What you didn’t miss was the audible scoff Loki spewed out as he got out of your personal space and made his way to the door.

“The next time we meet,” he said next, baring his clenched teeth as he tried to keep his emotions bottled in. “I will be ruler of this planet. And those who refuse to kneel before me shall suffer severe consequences,”

He returned his eyes to you, stinging you with a glare that showcased his anger and slight sadness at your rejection.

“Let’s hope you have wizened up by then.”

#loki #request #breakup #anon #Loki Laufeyson #Avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #part1 #oneshot #twoshot #loki x reader #loki imagine #angst #x reader #scenario #imagine

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ravenclawelitist239 · 6 years ago

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Throne of Glass

Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass, #1) by

Sarah J. Maas

Series:

Throne of Glass #1

Published by

Bloomsbury USA Children’s

on August 7th 2012Genres:

Fantasy

Pages: 404

Stars: 4.5

Foreword

Now, when I say this book is a mess, I dont mean that I didn’t like it or that it was a bad book, believe me, it wasn’t. I had to wait 3 months to read this book because of everyone in my area wanting to read. I had to fight someones grandma to finally get my paws on this book, and let me tell you, it was worth it! When I tell you this book was good, my hands were calloused from turning the pages nonstop. I finished the whole book in one day! After reading several “decent” books in a row, this was just what I needed to restore my faith in books.SynopsisCelaena Sardothien is the best assassin in the land (so we are told) with a tricky past. Sentenced to a year of labor in a literal death camp where she is beaten and whipped, she has given up hope of escape after nearly being killed attempting to do so. Just when all hope seems lost, the Crown Prince and Captain of the Guards arrive to shackle her and drag her to the royal castle, where she thinks she is sentenced to death. On the way there, instead of worrying about her future, she is to busy considering how she can kill everyone around her because you know, she’s such a deadly assassin. (or so we are told)Turns out she isn’t going to die. Well, she wont if she becomes the King’s champion. In order for that to happen, she must compete in a hunger-games like tournament where participants engage in months worth of training and killing in a final fight to the death where one will stand to become the King’s personal champion/lapdog.This all sound pretty sweet to Celeana because she is a deadly assassin who wont have any problem defeating like 23 other people in a death match. The only thing that bothers her is that she has to operate under a secret alias so that no one knows who she is because if they find out who she is, they will all go running home in fear. She considers this a major blow to her pride.Everything is going well, Celeana is excelling at everything, but some maniac has decided to start killing the competitors mid-way through the competition and everyone is freaking out trying to find the culprit. In the middle of it all, Celeana must navigate through supernatural forces, betrayals and politics, and love interest(s).

My Thoughts on the Characters, Plot, World Building

“My name is Celaena Sardothien. But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.”

This book was totally blowing up in my feed. EVERYONE and their mom seemed to have read this book before me and loved it, so me being the ardent bookworm that I am, went to my local library and put it on hold. I waited 3 months, but when I got it, I was so in love with the cover. It was so shiny and pretty that I threw aside the book I was just reading [Shadow and Bone] to read this book. I read the first 10 pages, and kinda wasn’t really feeling it so I went to the park and sat down under my favorite tree and spent the whole day reading the book and it was soooo good. Like, I just loved the book so much and was smirking at every bit of dialogue because it was just so goood.Celeana. She is really just one of those characters that that you slowly love more and more as the book goes on. Honestly, at the beginning, I didn’t like her. She just has that effect on me for like the first hundred 100 pages. One, because she seemed so vain and arrogant. She has just been released to live in a freaking death camp ad has to compete in a gosh darn death match and the only thing she seemed to care about was how pretty she was and how handsome the prince was. However, her backstory was just so sad and depressing, especially when you consider the fact that she is only like 17. If I had went through what she did at 17, I would’ve been driven crazy. Like, I go crazy when I stub my toe or accidentally cut my finger washing the dishes. She was whipped and beaten and watched her friends and family die. At freaking 17. Everyone I knew was giving the book like 2 stars because they didn’t think Celeana should’ve been as girly and arrogant as she was just because she was a deadly assassin. I get where people are coming from, but there isn’t an assassin rule book that says all assassins should be sulky, depressed monsters who wear black and carry knives in their shoes. I loved how Sarah J Maas purposely set her apart from what she thought people felt as though Celeana should’ve been. Most authors make their heroines weak, insecure, and dependent on a man. Celeana was beautiful, strong, and clever and she knew it. While she does have love interest(s), that isn’t the whole focus of the story and she conquers her battles pretty much by herself and takes the initiative.

The fact that she could still smile after being sent to a death camp makes me respect her so much. Also, she has to fight for the man that destroyed everything she loved.

I wont go into all the characters, but I will talk about Dorian and Chaol [Kale? Kol?]. Ok, the love triangle was really predictable and everything and I am not mad at Celeana for it, because its not like they are terrible men. They are both intelligent and arent desperate for her attention. They do their own thing and are even best friends. While I do think Dorian is a little boring and cliche’, I do respect him as a character, because I know how it feels to have apathetic and cruel parents. Not to much is revealed about Chaol, but I really loved him as a character. He actually challenged Celeana and wanted the best for her.Let me take the time out to mention my favorite character, Nehemia. She was so amazing, and strong. She wants the best for herself and her country and she is the perfect friend for Celeana because she isn’t afraid to put her in her place. I cant wait to see what Maas does with her in the future.The world building is so amazing. The map in the front of the book is beautiful, and the world seems like a lot of thought was put into it. The plot however really wasn’t. The contest is laughably set up. The trials and tests seems like they were thought up out of a stereotypical like gladiator movie or something. Like seriously, she had to climb a wall [one person died], shoot a bow, test some poisons [dont worry, no one died because they had antidotes] and to Celeana, it was never any issue. The night before every test, she didn’t spend practicing or thinking about it, she would just be thinking about Dorian or Chaol. And the tests only took up like 5 pages each at a maximum and some were even talked about in like one sentence. Especially toward the end. Celeana would be like, “Oh yeah, there was a test today, but Dorian looked so cute and I wonder how I can make Chaol laugh tomorrow.” The king seemed very cartoon villainy and gets like 5 mentions total and 2 instances where we meet him and the minor characters are laughable. Especially, the lame girl that kept trying to get with Dorian.My issue with Celeana

While, I did love Celeana, I also had several issues with her. For one, the author is a master of tell and not show. She tells us how amazing Celeana is at pretty much everything from pianos to swordsmanship to man snatching. We even get a small display of how amazing her fighting is when she took out a full grown man with little to no effort. We never get shown much of anything else. We get told how amazingly stunning she is and every time her powers come into play, everyone revers and fears her and talks about how dangerous she is. However, its hard to believe that a 17 year old is feared by men like 3 times her age. She was ridiculously over hyped in every aspect. Also, the other biggest aspect I never liked about her was how much of a blatant Mary Sue she was. She was just good at everything and no harm ever really came her way except the final scene where she is drugged and assaulted. She loves books, plays the piano amazingly, is just so beautiful, and is dangerous. Her only fault is her arrogance and pride, but the way its presented in the book, its more a negative personality trait and not a fatal flaw. I need to see that she has a flaw or else she’s just gonna seem unlikable. I’m not saying a person cant be beautiful and really good at something. I know a lot of people in real life who are smart, beautiful, and seemingly good at everything, but they always have a flaw.Overall, I loved the book and the way everything was set up and look forward to buying it on Amazon and reading the rest of the series. If you liked this review, comment, and stay tuned for my review on Crown of Midnight.

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jungnoir · 8 years ago

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a dash of wicked;

kim seokjin | “I’m a writer and you’re my character and wtf how the heck did you just literally climb out of my first draft?” ⇢ what exactly is standard protocol when a super villain you create for a children’s book comes to life one day? well, you keep him, of course. | 2.6k words. | supernatural, fluff. requested.

a/n: I originally struggled with coming up with an idea for this request because I had already done the same prompt for another member, but I uh… listened to we are number one from lazy town and suddenly 💡. enjoy, because I secretly love writing for seokjin and rarely get the chance to.

“Are you sure you’re not free tonight? I really wanted take you out to that new Thai restaurant on 3rd, you know.”

Your eyes trail up tiredly from your hands’ ministrations, your fingers locating your belongings and putting them away into your bag like muscle memory even as you stare down the very attractive and very persistent Park Jimin, your cubicle mate for the last five years and the only guy who could ask you out more times in a week than he could say “hello” to you. You had gotten so used to the routine that you could fill a notebook with all of your collected responses… maybe make that two notebooks.

“As sure as I was when I texted you that I wasn’t two days ago, Jimin.” You say monotonously, closing the flap on your messenger bag before slinging the heavy thing over your shoulder. You did a quick scan of the expanse of your desk to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything before scooting out of your place and past Jimin to make your way home. Your tired feet ached in your heels and your ponytail was starting to hurt. All you could think about at the moment was a warm, comfortable bath with a little wine and a fluffy bed to slip into in preparation for the coma you were about to induce on yourself this weekend.

Jimin follows behind without much struggle, his legs carrying him closer and closer until he’s falling into step with you, “You used to love going out to get food with me, (Y/N). I know boss has been pressuring you nonstop about getting that first draft done for the upcoming book, but you seem more busy than usual. I’m really worried… are you alright?”

Jimin’s voice turns soft and concerned, a tone you were more used to hearing when you had been up for more than 36 hours and were so sleep-deprived that you were starting to write out three or more paragraphs to describe a patch of wallpaper because your mind couldn’t be bothered to focus on anything important to the plot. But as far as Jimin knew, you had no heavy bags under your eyes and your stomach wasn’t growling for something other than the copious amounts of caffeine you lived off of. You looked healthy, better than ever even, but yet to him, you seemed to never have time for anything besides work these days.

Honestly, you felt bad having to turn Jimin down every time he brought up going out together, because if you were being truthful, you missed him just as much as he missed you (you even missed having to redirect his flirtatious advances in favor of having normal conversations), and despite what Jimin was probably thinking, none of it had anything to do with him. It didn’t even have anything to do with you.

No, it was all thanks to the Commander of Terror. Or, better known as Kim Seokjin, the super villain you’d created for your company’s upcoming children’s superhero themed novel that had somehow, someway, come to life and weaseled his way into your home one day, straight out of your writing as if you had molded his physical being from the dust of the earth like you were a god or something. You could see why you had trouble giving Jimin much explanation for your need to ditch him all the time, right?

“I’m great! I promise. I’m just a bit… tied up at the house lately.” “It’s been a month, (Y/N). What could possibly keep you homebound like this?” Jimin sighs, and it’s only when he breaks his gaze with you that he realizes he can’t leave work just yet, and you’re steadily making your way to the exit without a care.

The dark-haired man stops in the lobby of the building, watching with disappointed eyes as you reach the front doors, steps from greeting the evening world and the sun threatening to set soon. You place a hand on the handle of the door and turn to look over your shoulder at him, your heart lurching a little at the defeated, puppy-dog look in his eyes as he watched you leave him behind once again.

But even through the regret, you knew that leaving your new friend home alone for too long would cause you more trouble than you could allow, and you had a civic duty to protect the world from evil… and bad, bad dad jokes.

“I didn’t tell you? I got a puppy.”

You wished that was the case. Severely.

The moment you entered your home, your heart began to hammer erratically at the state of your abode. No, there was no fire in the oven, your living room didn’t look like a tornado blew straight through it, and there certainly weren’t any alerts from your local news station that there was a man running through the streets causing mayhem and distress. No, god, you wished that there was any sign of the living being you’d been practically babysitting for the last month in sight. Instead, you were greeted with a scarily clean house and utter silence - never a good sign.

You were sprinting into every part of the house, starting from Seokjin’s room and making your way into yours. You checked the living room, the basement, the bathrooms, and the kitchen, but you were rapidly coming up short. It wasn’t exactly like Seokjin didn’t know how to leave the house, but you had made it excruciatingly clear that he couldn’t leave unless it was for an emergency, and if it was an emergency, he was to contact you as soon as possible. Your phone had not blown up with nonsense messages from the super villain and you were sure he could have gotten his message to you somehow if he really needed to, which only made you panic all the more.

Your panic came to a stutter however, when you entered the dining room.

Laid out on the average sized table was a long, draping red table cloth decorated in intricate designs, the cloth nearly brushing the floor with its length. Leaning forward to brush your fingers along it, you noted with an audible gasp that it felt very expensive and smelled very new. You could only wonder where he’d gotten it, because you sure as hell couldn’t afford that much.

In the middle of the table, there was a rather embarrassingly large bouquet of roses placed in a beautiful crystal vase, another item you definitely didn’t own, and on either side of the roses were long, skinny black candles with wicks still white and new, never burned. There was a set of gorgeous fine china on either side of the table, more things added to the list of possessions that hadn’t been there before. The longer you stared at the pretty setup, the longer your thoughts began to whirl out of control.

Seokjin was missing, nothing was destroyed or currently being destroyed, and your dining room table was decorated like a setting for two lovers on their anniversary. You almost asked yourself if you were even in the right house.

So caught up in your own world, you didn’t notice the sound of your front door opening and closing and loafers clacking along the wood floors, nearing closer to you with every second.

A moment passes, and then your eyesight is obstructed by delicate fingers while a minty breath ghosts your ear, “You weren’t supposed to see this until I got home. Fiddlesticks.”

You reach up with lightning speed to yank the hand away from your face and spin around just enough to see none other than Seokjin standing there, dressed in a purple striped dress shirt and black slacks, dark hair brushed back into an immaculate style that has your breath catching for just a second, just long enough for Seokjin to notice as his lip quirks up into a pleased smile, “Cat got your tongue?”

“W-Where were you? I thought you’d gone off somewhere, probably used your powers to manipulate the president into giving you power over the country or something-” “Ridiculous, why would I only want control over South Korea? I’m looking for global domination, petal. You should know, you created me.” Seokjin chuckles at you like you’ve told him a silly joke, his upper body leaning in a bit and crowding your space with his sweet scent.

Your words come out in choppy stammers in reaction to his proximity, this being the closest you two had ever been, and you still hadn’t gotten quite acquainted to living with a super villain, let alone one of your own creation for a children’s book no less. It did not help at all that he was unfairly handsome, looking like something you’d conjured up in your dreams while you watched friends go off with significant others, all happy and pretty and perfect. At one point, you had wondered if that’d ever be you and Jimin. And then Seokjin came along.

You’d never admit it aloud because god forbid Seokjin’s ego inflated anymore than it already did when he caught your doe-eyed look whenever he walked out of the shower in just a towel (”Like what you see?” “I bought you a robe to wear for a reason!”), but damn it… the dude was pretty much your ideal type. Minus the super villain part.

“Stop bringing that up, it still weirds me out… and you didn’t answer my question. Where’d you go?” You ask again, a little more stern this time, and Seokjin catches the hint that he should tread carefully.

He’d been scolded by you time and time again for things like setting your rude neighbor’s garden on fire or manipulating the customer service workers over the phone for the home shopping network to give you the diamond necklace he saw for free (”It’ll make your eyes pop, petal”), but never for something like leaving the house. He had managed to keep himself more than busy enough by himself at home all day, so him leaving suddenly hadn’t been one of your biggest concerns as of late, even if it did loom in the back of your mind often.

If there was one rule you enforced with every fiber of your being, it was to never leave without you unless it was an emergency. He had broken that rule no matter which way he told it, but in his mind, he was easily able to make up for it. “I come bearing gifts from the new Thai restaurant on 3rd.”

The smell of the food only hits your nose when he tells you, and you look down to see the brown paper bag decorated with the restaurant’s logo, looking packed full with all kinds of goodies. Your irritation at him dissipates the moment you realize he has food in hand, and your mouth begins to water involuntarily, “Oh my god, Seokjin, you’re amazing,” Seokjin visibly beams at your words, setting the bag on the dining table with pride, “Here I was, starting to regret not taking up Jimin’s offer to go to that restaurant tonight, too.”

At the mention of your coworker, Seokjin bristles, “Has he been bothering you still? I told you, I’m willing to manipulate him into giving himself a colossal super wedgie whenever you give the word.”

You let out a sound that is a cross between a laugh and a scoff, but you can’t ignore the slight surge of affection you feel toward the villain at his concern, “No thanks, Seokjin. I told you, Jimin is just a bit of a flirt sometimes. He’s still a really good friend.”

Unconvinced but compliant, Seokjin hums and raises his chin a bit, looking down at you from over the tip of his nose, “Your wish is my command, petal. I’d rather not talk about another man when I’ve done all this for you, though, if you don’t mind. It’s only courteous.”

Jealous. Cute.

You fail to hide your smile, tickled pink at the idea that he might start getting huffy if you mention your coworker once more. Instead, you reach into the bag and start setting out the food, smiling at Seokjin, “Of course, Jinnie,” Seokjin’s cheeks bloom a rosy color at the sound of the nickname you’d given him, “go get the drinks, I’ll set out the food.”

Seokjin, suddenly very motivated to be out of sight of your teasing gaze begins to slink toward the kitchen when something comes to mind and you quickly snatch his wrist into your hold, stopping the tall man from getting too far from you. Perplexed, the villain looks down at you with furrowed brows and looks you over for any sign of danger before he’s assured he senses none, “Yes, petal?”

God, you’d never get over that nickname as long as you lived. You swore Seokjin knew it too.

“Why’d you do all this for me? I mean, food is one thing but… a fancy, expensive new table cloth? Candles? More than a dozen roses? What’s all this for?”

Seokjin blinks for a moment, the two of you looking at each other in pure silence. Then, very carefully, Seokjin gives you a smile that has your chest thumping a little harder with the force of your own heartbeat, his wrist wriggling out of your hold only for his fingers to entangle with yours instead, “Think of it as a… a less troublesome ‘thank you’. I know stolen diamond necklaces and setting the gardens of your enemies on fire isn’t a very conventional way of showing one’s thanks, but let’s face it, none of my situation really makes sense in the first place. I just… wanted to find a way to say ‘thank you for not abandoning me’ in a way that doesn’t leave you feeling guilty. A nice dinner seemed like the way to go. It’s the least I could do for you, petal.”

Against your will, you find your eyes burning with the threat of tears, and you blame your influx of emotions on the stressful week you had piling up on you and not the fact that Seokjin had tugged at pretty much every heartstring you had. Instead of letting any of said tears fall, you shyly squeeze his hand in yours and give him a toothy grin, “I wouldn’t have the heart to abandon you, Jinnie. As strange as our dilemma is… I don’t think I could ever go back to whatever normal was for me before you came into my life. I like it too much, the way it is now.”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open suddenly and he looks shocked that you’ve even said such a thing to him, and then he closes it quickly, the rosy hue on his cheeks now taking on a darker color altogether. When the man realizes your hands are still intertwined, he pulls away awkwardly, trying and failing to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on the backs of his pants. “Ah, don’t do that. With the way you’re smiling at me, I’m almost convinced you might like me.”

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you break eye contact with him to look elsewhere, subconsciously capturing your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment before replying, “You wouldn’t be terribly wrong.”

Seokjin’s eyes are burning on you suddenly, and the sheer heaviness of his gaze causes you to meet his fixed stare. He lets out an amused, breathy laugh when a question mark becomes visible in your expression. “Oh… you don’t know what you do to me, petal.”

#bts writing squad #seokjin scenarios #seokjin drabble #seokjin fluff #seokjin au #villain!seokjin #kim seokjin #bts scenarios #bts drabble #bts fluff #bts au #bts #majwrites

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nonstop-smashing-expectations · 7 years ago

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Place to Be: Lams AU

Important Notes: In this AU, Alex and crew are actors/high schoolers whereas Lin and cast are characters in the musical. Make sure to read past the ~ marks! The story continues! Also there isn’t a warning for this one! Let me know if you need me to tag anything!

Alex sighed as he tightened the elastic in his hair. His blue-violet eyes scanned over his pale complexion and auburn-red hair. He raised a hand to poke at the bags under his eyes. Sighing again, he dropped his hand back to the counter in his dressing room. Each person had gotten a small dressing room to themselves, however some were nicer than others. Alex’s had obviously been a janitorial closet at some point and the smell of cleaner still permeated the air.

Alex had gotten a phone call earlier that morning from his best friend John Laurens who called to tell him that he had gotten the lead.

Alex had rushed to the theatre to prepare for the practice cold reading of the script but he was getting super nervous. He hadn’t wanted a big part in the musical, he honestly wouldn’t have tried out for a part if he thought he could make it in.

He needed a credit in the Fine and Performing Arts category and the teacher said that if he didn’t want to take any of the classes, he’d have to try out for the school musical if he wanted to graduate. Seeing as it was Alex’s last year of school and he couldn’t change any of the classes in his already busy schedule(thus the bags under his eyes), he had no choice but to try out for the musical.

And now he was regretting not taking a theater class. Despite the fact that he didn’t think he could act to save his life, he’d never actually acted in front of people before. Ever. And now he was second guessing every.

His thoughts ranged from “what if I totally get stage fright and can’t even run through my lines in this informal run through” to “I heard the person running this musical is a jerk. I really don’t think I’d be able to keep my thoughts to myself if he is as horrible as I’ve heard.”

Hearing his name being called from outside the door, he took one last look at his expression in the mirror before he went to the door.

There stood John with a bag of fast food and a large cup of coffee.

With a small smirk, he handed the coffee to Alex, knowing that he most likely forgot to make his own in his rush to get out the door.

Alex accepted the coffee with a small smile and he invited John into the cramped dressing room. John leaned against the wall and listened to Alex rant from where he sat up on the counter.

Twenty minutes passed before Alex took a look at his watch and went even paler than normal. Chugging the last of his coffee, he slid of the counter and looked back toward John who had nonchalantly pushed off the wall to walk toward Alex.

Alex’s eyes said more than his words could, even if his throat would have allowed him to talk. John could see that the poor man was scared out of his mind.

Grabbing his best friend by the shoulders, John said, “You’re scared, I get that. I know that you worry a lot about a lot of things. And that you tend to talk a lot and that you really should get more sleep. I know that you dream of being a writer and that you tend to stay up all night writing nonstop. But listen to me. If you go out and do this, maybe you’ll find that you could write for musicals. Wouldn’t that be great? You’d have first hand experience on what it would be like to be in a musical and that would factor into better writing.”

Alex now looked less afraid. “Better writing,” he mumbled under his breath. Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Ok, I got this. I can do this. I need to do this to become a better writer.”

John smiled, finally seeing the resolve in Alex’s eyes that Alex was so famous for.

Turning his friend toward the door, he pushed his forward saying, “I’ll be right here as soon as you are done. Knock ‘me dead!” And with that, John pushed Alex out the door and shut the door firmly behind him.

Of course with Alex’s luck, he immediately crashed into the one person he wanted to avoid.

“I’m so sorry, I tripped. I didn’t know anyone else was here…” His words trailed off when he realized who he was talking to. There in front of him was the most feared person in the theater department, King George the third.

Apparently George had won Prom King in his day and someone a few years ago found out and started calling him King George behind his back. Now the entire school knew about it but George remained oblivious. His reputation was something that everyone knew, even if you have nothing to do with theatre. He made everyone who wasn’t a lead pay twenty dollars to remain in the play and he ignored people when they said they wanted to be dropped from a role. He was controlling over the cast and he was a perfectionist who made people keep performing until they got it right.

The tea George has been drinking had spilled, all over the map of Boston on the wall. His eyes had narrowed at Alex and Alex watched with wide eyes as George ran his eyes down Alex’s body. He glanced over toward the dressing room sign that read “Alexander Hamilton -Lin Manuel Miranda”. George let out a small huff of disbelief as he eyed Alex again. “This is who my assistant hired to play the lead? You don’t even look a thing like Lin. And those bags under your eyes! That’s going to take more makeup than the makeup team has, you’ll have to pay for that out of pocket. That is, of course, if I decide to let you stay. You need to be really good at this reading or you’re out.”

He turned and walked off down the hall, leaving Alex in a daze. It took a few seconds for the last sentence to register before Alex sprinted down the hallway. There was no way he was throwing away his shot.

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

Alex was quite proud of himself as he took his last bow with the other members of the cast. It had taken a few months of rehearsal, and a lot of bitten back comments, but he finally made it through the musical.

He had gained so much experience that would help him with this writing. He also learned that he could hold back his thoughts but only if he knew that there was something important worth fighting for.

However, he did throw some rebellions against George here and there. George hadn’t known who was rebelling against him, a fact which made it easy for most of the cast to play pranks on him. Eventually he got so paranoid that something was going to jump out at him, that he took an early retirement and moved out of state.

The replacement, King George’s former assistant, was a man by the name of George Washington and with his vision, the drama department was flourishing.

Smiling at the memories, Alex’s eyes scanned the crowd to find John sitting and clapping in the first row. A lot had changed in the months since Alex had auditioned for the role, not just in the drama department. Alex had finally realized his feelings toward his best friend was more than best friend feelings and he was shocked when John reciprocated those feelings.

Most of the cast was super supportive and cooed over them anything they did something particularly adorable.

John waved toward Alex, promptly snapping Alex out of his thoughts. He smiled even wider in response, causing his boyfriend to move his jacket to the side slightly, revealing a bouquet of Alex’s favorite flower. Alex’s eyes filled with tears and he had to blink several times as he took one last bow with the others. ‘Maybe this is what I should do,’ thought Alex.

The audience’s cheering and yelling only reinforced the thought that somewhere along the line, this place had become his home.

———————————————— Note: Can you find all the references in here? I hope you enjoyed reading this story because I had a lot of fun writing it!

#lams fanfiction #hamilton imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #alternate universe story

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mambasaid · 6 years ago

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Scorpion Review (Side A)

Before I get into this review, I’d like to start off by giving you a synopsis of my history with Drake and his music.

Like a lot of Drake fans, I was introduced to Drake’s music when So Far Gone was released early in 2009. I may have heard a few of his songs with Lil Wayne prior to that, but I binge watched a lot of Family Guy and South Park around that time so my memory for most of 2008-2010 is pretty spotty. I really just remember chicken fights and singing pieces of shit (no, I’m not talking about Chris Brown) with random songs sprinkled throughout. Anyway, my point is that if I did hear anything by Drake prior to So Far Gone I didn’t find it compelling enough to skim through the rest of his discography, but So Far Gone was a different beast entirely. The production was incredible; a lot of the beats made me feel as if I was in a dream. Drake’s lyrics were also noteworthy; as a rapper Drake has his flaws, but he has always been a technically proficient rapper who was not afraid to come across as vulnerable, and I have always respected that. That combination is rare today, but it was nearly unheard of back in 2009; at least in the realm of mainstream hip hop. So here we had a lyricist with a great ear for production who was even able to sing pretty well on occasion; I was all in. I went back and downloaded Drake’s two prior mixtapes, Comeback Season, which is still great, and Room For Improvement, which is an interesting listen, but not really all that good, and played both of them dozens of times. For a few months in 2009 I was a full-fledged Drake stan.

However, Drake had slowly started to fall out of my good graces by the time his debut album, Thank Me Later, came out in 2010. In hindsight, I don’t really remember why. Maybe it was the fact that he was singing too much for my taste. I was a stereotypical hip hop head back then. All I wanted were complex punchlines and rhyme schemes over a gritty or soulful beat and I was satisfied. Drake definitely had his fair share of “lyrical miracle” songs, but he also started to venture into R&B territory a bit too much for my liking. For whatever reason, I thought that his music was too “soft” and self-indulgent. I grew up in the suburbs, so I really have no right to call anybody soft, but that’s how I felt at the time. I definitely liked quite a few of the song that Drake was putting out, but I just didn’t view him as the guy who was going to bring “real hip hop” back to the mainstream anymore. On Take Care, which is still probably his best album, Wheelchair Jimmy Champagne Papi The light-skinned Keith Sweat Drake continued to toe the line between rapper and singer, and I was such a hip hop elitist that I dismissed damn near ⅓ of the album because Drake was singing too much. I’ll save my final thoughts on that album for another day, but I certainly didn’t give that album it’s due at the time.

As Drake continued to dominate the radio with inescapable songs, he became harder to hate on. Eventually, I accepted the fact that Drake was no longer

Survival

This is fine for an intro, but it’s a bit underwhelming when compared to Drake’s past introductions. He even says that he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself because this is “Just the intro” when on prior opening tracks he has rapped much longer, sometimes for what felt like an eternity, and used the intro to catch us up to speed on what has been going in his life since his last album dropped. Here he mostly treads water, bringing up the Meek Mill and Diddy beefs he was involved in over 3 years ago, although he does seem to take a few shots at Kanye. Anyway, this was pretty good, just not as epic as I was expecting. “My Mount Rushmore is me with four different expressions” is an all-time great Drake line, though.

Nonstop

I hate this song. The beat is fine, but this is probably the most annoying flow and cadence that Drake has ever used. In the second verse he starts doing this weird thing where he mumble whispers (?) the first half of each bar, then raps the second half in his regular voice, and it’s just terrible. On top of that, the song title isn’t even accurate because I stopped this track at least six times to make sure that this was actually a song by Drake and not something from Lil Overdose’s new album. This might be Drake’s worst song ever.

Elevate

There was literally no way this song could have been worse than Nonstop, so at least it already had that going for it. This song still isn’t anything special, though. I like this beat a lot, its celebratory and ominous at the same time, I imagine this is the beat Thanos heard once he got all six soul stones and snapped his finger. Unfortunately, Drake didn’t snap on here, so we get a lot of very forgettable lines. Girls seem to love that line about God playing favorites, though.

Emotionless

After giving Drake a pretty mundane beat for Survival, No I.D completely redeems himself here by giving Drake one of the best beats of his career; it’s so soulful. Drake uses the first verse to take more shots at Kanye and Pusha T, and uses the second verse to make excuses about why we didn’t know he had a son until Pusha played detective. Props to him for calling out the people who take dozens of pictures when they go on vacation for 2 days then post those pictures a month later so they can flex like they’re still vacationing, but what the hell does that have to do with us knowing you have a kid? Your son barely even knows that you exist, so how do you expect him to know about the lives of people on social media? The kid won’t be old enough to even understand what is on a phone for several years. It’s a good line, but it is also really dumb, but this is hip hop, not a thesis defense, so I’ll let it slide. Finally, a song I want to listen to again.

God’s Plan

Originally released as part of Drake’s Scary Hours EP, along with another way better song called Diplomatic Immunity, God’s Plan quickly rocketed up the charts and became one of Drake’s most successful songs ever. I like it, I just don’t understand why it was so popular. Drake has released a lot of other singles that I felt were destined to be chart toppers in the past, but for whatever reason this one was way more successful.

I’m Upset

This song came out a day after Drake’s Duppy Freestyle, a track that became a bit of a footnote after Pusha T sonned him on The Story of Adidon, but still a good diss in its own right. Duppy got a pretty warm reception when it first dropped, and I think I’m Upset initially suffered because of that. There is a pretty stark contrast between the two songs. Duppy has more of a classic hip hop feel, with more of an old school beat and Drake adopting a quicker flow with a lot of slick punchlines. I’m Upset is very clearly a modern hip hop song, Drake raps over a much slower beat and gives us a lot of lines that are easy to digest and remember, the type of lines you would see under a picture on Instagram, but that isn’t such a bad thing. While this isn’t one of Drake’s best songs by any measure, I do think it’s better than people initially gave it credit for. Ironically, Pusha’s diss track that dropped a few days later makes this song sound better, as a lot of the first verse is clearly about his baby’s mother.

8 out of 10

Drake mentions that he likes to take things from an 8 to a 10, which sounded nice until I remembered that he once rapped about going from 0 to 100 real quick. Now I’m left wondering if he has slowed down and abandoned his more reckless ways now that he has a baby to care for. Anyway, upon first hearing Scorpion, this was one of my favorite songs. However, after listening to Joe Budden’s excellent breakdown of the meaning behind a lot of these lines, I’m beginning to realize that, even though I liked this song, I didn’t really appreciate it as much as I should have. Drake utilizes Boi 1da’s beat to take more shots at Kanye and Pusha T, but a lot of the lines are so subtle that they might fly over your head, and I mean that as a compliment. When he wants to be, Drake really is a lyricist, and he puts that on full display in this song. Listen to Budden’s analysis of the bridge for this song and tell me this man doesn’t care about what he writes. This is my favorite song on this album by a pretty wide margin at this point in time.

Mob Ties

Aside from maybe Chance the Rapper, Drake is pretty much the least threatening rapper to have ever lived. Not only does he spend like 40% of his discography crooning or crying to women, but even his public persona is that of an unabashedly a corny guy. He is like the opposite of Doggystyle era Snoop Dogg and that’s completely fine, people love him for it, so why does he always have these random songs in which he transforms into Only Built for Cuban Linx era Raekwon and pretends to be some kind of mob boss? We know you’re not putting hits out on people dude, just chill. Granted, a lot of rap is built on people building up fake personas, but at least they stick to them. Yeah Rick Ross is a liar, but the guy has always stuck to his character. We know so much about Drake’s personal life that it’s hard for me to take any threats that he makes seriously. Anyway, I didn’t mean to rant for so long, this song is ok. I like this beat, but I just don’t think it was well suited for Drake, it seems more like something Migos would have picked.

Can’t Take a Joke

Lmaooooooooooo what is this flow? Maybe this song really is a joke because this weird sing/rap flow actually made me laugh the first time I heard it. Aside from Nonstop, this is pretty easily my least favorite song on the A side. I’ll be skipping this one.

Sandra’s Rose

Drake finally got a beat from the legendary DJ Premier and the collaboration doesn’t disappoint, I do wish Preemo had scratched on the hook, though. This isn’t an all-time great Premier beat, but it does the job, and so does Drake. While there are a few pretty weak bars in here, most of the punchlines are on point, so much so that a few of them went over my head on my first listen, and Drake rides the beat well. I wish Drake would rap over beats like these more often, my 3 favorite songs on this side have all featured soulful vocal samples.

Talk It Up

Drake and Jay-Z seem to have thrown subliminal shots at each other several times in their careers, yet Jay seems to be one of Drake’s favorite collaborators (he has appeared on 3 Drake albums, as many as Lil Wayne). Drake has a cute little double entendre about lump sums, but aside from that his verse is pretty forgettable. Jay fairs a little bit better, but not really. It seems like 2010 Jay usually only raps about being a boss or his past as a drug dealer, and on this track he chooses the latter. Jay’s verse is ok, but this pretty easily the weakest of their 3 collaborations, which is a pretty impressive feat given that Jay spent his second verse on Pound Cake interpolating a Rihanna song. This was kind of a waste of a great DJ Paul beat.

Is There More?

Drake asks the same question that I have been asking for the vast majority of this album. I would have sworn that this was a 40 beat, but it was produced by Wallis Lane. This is one of Drake’s better lyrical performances on the album, arguably his best. Drake presents himself as someone who has finally made it, but is now left wondering what else there is to accomplish. However, Drake spends a lot of this song bragging about how successful he is rather than talking about how becoming successful has left him feeling empty, so I wonder what his goal was with this song. The title and the beat suggest that the song would be more introspective, and a few lines in the first verse are, but most of this sounds more like Drake asserting his dominance over the rap game again. Even if the subject matter is a bit confusing, this is not a bad way to end this side.

Side B

Trash, this whole side sounds like a bootleg Jon B album. Maybe that’s why he called it side B.

I’m just kidding! I’ll give my thoughts on Side B soon, but that’s a lot more to write and a lot more for you guys to read, so for now I’ll stop here and give you my thoughts on Side A. This isn’t a bad album, but it’s pretty bland. There are a few highlights, most of which feature soul beats, but Drake sounds very uninspired on the majority of this album. He switches up his flow every now and then, but it’s usually to his detriment, and a lot of the punchlines on here are bad or non-existent. Drake has always had an excellent ear for production, and that remains true on this album; there isn’t a bad beat on here, I just think Drake used them wrong or wasn’t suited for them.

Swishes: Emotionless, 8 out of 10, Sandra’s Rose

Bricks: Nonstop, Can’t Take a Joke

Overall, I’d give Side A a 6/10

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memyselfandwe00001 · 7 years ago

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Say it with Flowers (2/?) ~by memyselfandwe09

~Beta’d by the brilliant @tenroseforeverandever

Fandom: Doctor Who *but it’s an AU, so it can be read by whomever*

Rating: M

Ship(s): Twelve x Rose, Jack x Ianto

Characters: Twelfth Doctor (Human), Rose Tyler, Ianto Jones, Bill Potts, Jack Harkness, Wilfred “Wilf” Mott, Donna Noble, Jackie Tyler

~~Based on the prompt; Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps twenty bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in a flower?”~~

Summary: Rose Tyler had just moved into her new London flat. It was everything she ever wanted, with one major drawback; the madman living upstairs. Can she put up with his antics as he endlessly torments her, or will she be forced to move.

Tags: Flower shop AU, Neighbors, Humor, Eventual romance, Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers, Older man/Younger woman, my first Twelve x Rose fic, I was tricked into this, I tried giving the prompt away but it was given back to me.

AO3 / FF

Chap 1 / Chap 2

Chapter 2

Aiden McGregor wasn’t very well liked and most people tended to avoid him. He didn’t let it bother him; he even told himself he preferred it that way. It isn’t that he didn’t like people, he just didn’t care for small talk or pretending to care. If some people found that rude, then so be it.

There was a time, before the war, when that was different. He was much more approachable back then. He’d joined the Army as a doctor because he thought he could make a difference and help people. Instead, he’d witnessed one death after another. Young men and women who couldn’t be helped, no matter how hard he tried.

Once he was discharged, he’d quit the medical profession entirely, feeling he’d failed the people who’d put their lives in his hands. He hadn’t wanted any others to suffer because of his incompetence.

Not wanting to explain his decision to those who knew him, he had left Glasgow and moved to London hoping for a fresh start. Shortly after the move he’d begun seeing a therapist, only he’d refused to talk to her about the things that had been haunting him. After months of trying to get him to open up, she’d presented him with a potted rose plant in what Aiden could only assume was a last ditch effort to get through to him. She explained that just like other living creatures, flowers and plants enjoy being talked to. If he wasn’t ready to talk to her, maybe he could practice venting his feelings on this plant.

Initially, he’d laughed at the idea but eventually found himself walking out with the small thing in hand. When he arrived home, he’d placed it on the counter and basically forgot all about it.

Two days later, he’d noticed the little yellow roses were turning brown and had become brittle. Jumping into action, he gave it some water and placed it on the balcony for some light. Silly or not, this small plant was in his care and he was damned if he was going to let it die.

That afternoon he’d come home with a new ceramic pot along with soil and plant food. All the recommended items he’d read about. After repotting it and caring for it accordingly, the plant soon came back to life and new yellow roses were beginning to sprout.

What started out as therapy soon became a casual hobby and was now a full-blown passion. He didn’t know flowers could be so complex and held so much meaning, or that they held their own medicinal properties.

It was this fascination that led him to opening Gallifrey Flowers, a small shop that was hidden in plain sight. That it was inconspicuous didn’t hurt business, however, and he was able to maintain a steady flow of customers. It was his mouth that had often got him into trouble until Bill had come along.

Bill was a frequent customer who’d immediately taken a liking to Aiden, despite his snarky comments, saying she found him fascinating. Several times a week she would come in, always cheerful, and full of questions. As much as that should have deterred him, she didn’t annoy him. She was also the only one he allowed to call him “Doctor” after he accidently let that piece of information slip during a conversation.

One afternoon Bill stopped in, telling him she needed someone to vent to. Before he could stop her, she went on a rant about a failed relationship, amongst other things, before mentioning she had nowhere to go and needed to find a job. Although he couldn’t help her with her girlfriend troubles, he was able to help her with her employment situation while permitting her to stay with him at his flat until she was able to find something permanent.

She soon proved to be a valuable asset. Not only did she take on the unpleasant task of dealing with customers, but she was also punctual, always there on time to open the shop. That was especially helpful on days like today, when Aiden found himself running a bit late after his encounter with Miss Tyler at the coffee shop.

He was still chewing the last bit of his scone when he came waltzing through the front door of the shop in an uncharacteristically good mood. “Mornin,” he grinned at Bill as he made his way past.

“Good morning,” Bill replied, puzzled. “What’s gotten into you?”

Aiden paused mid step. “All I said was good morning.”

“No, you said mornin’,” Bill mocked his tone, “as you danced in here with what might pass for an actual smile.” She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes, and studied his face curiously.

The subtle grin Aiden had been wearing faded as he took a step away. “You’re always complaining about my frequent irritability and how rude I am. Now you have a problem with my attempt at optimism?”

“It’s just not like you,” Bill admitted. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course, everything’s all right,” Aiden griped and continued his journey toward the back. He stopped at the doorway. “That’s the last time I try and show you some cheer.”

Bill’s eyes followed him as he stepped through the door into the back room, and he heard her mumble, “Sorry,” under her breath.Thankfully, she didn’t press the issue of his good mood...for now.

He stepped into his workspace and donned his apron. He had a large order to fulfill so he jumped right into his work. He laid out an arrangement of flowers and with a pair of shears, he began cleaning the stems of leaves. As he worked he could hear Bill moving around out front and he wondered if she was going to come back and pester him again. He didn’t think a simple good morning would have brought up so many questions.

After giving it some thought, he realized Bill was right: he was in an uncharacteristically good mood. He couldn’t think why. Nothing significant happened that morning aside from his row with Miss Tyler, but those were becoming a daily occurrence.

He picked up the next flower, a pink rose that matched the tinge of her cheeks as she argued with him that morning. She believed his actions were directed at her alone, as if he went out of his way to bother her.

He laughed at the idea, then paused as he gave it further thought. Many had approached him about his behavior before, but it wasn’t until Miss Tyler moved in below him that he felt the need to retaliate. She was frustrating, insufferable, completely unbearable, and quite possibly the most intriguing woman he’s ever met. That was the problem, as infuriating as she could be, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

“Doctor?”

Aiden jolted from his thoughts and looked up at Bill. “Yeah?”

She stared at him oddly, “You’ve been admiring that rose for quite some time now. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“I’m fine,” Aiden grumbled as he made the final snip. He placed the rose aside and heard the door chime. Thankful for the distraction, he waved her away. “Go on then. Do your job and leave me alone to do mine.”

“Fine,” Bill sighed and walked away, stopping at the door to study him once more.

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

“Say it with flowers. What do you suppose that means,” Ianto asked Rose after she told him about her most recent encounter with Mr. McGregor.

“I don’t know,” Rose shrugged. “Maybe he thought he was being clever in some way. Since the flowers were sitting there in front of him.”

“You know, flowers have meanings. Maybe there is some flower out there you can give him that tells the recipient something unpleasant.”

Rose was intrigued. “You think there’s a flower like that?”

“There’s got to be.” Ianto’s eyes lit up as an idea came to mind. “My friend Bill works at a flower shop not too far from here. She might be able to help you come up with something.”

“Where,” Rose asked. “The only flower shop I know of is by my Mum’s salon.”

“It’s about midway between here and that coffee shop you like to stop at in the mornings,” Ianto said. “Most people miss it unless they’re looking for it.”

Rose pondered the idea then laughed it off. “No, I doubt giving him hateful flowers is going to solve anything.”

“Maybe not,” Ianto agreed. “But you’ll never know if you don’t try. Yelling at him hasn’t been very effective, so why not surprise him? I doubt he’ll be expecting you to go through with it.”

As Rose crawled into bed that night, she thought about Ianto’s idea of taking Mr. McGregor’s suggestion and using it against him. Would it even matter, or would it just make things worse?

She rolled onto her side and enjoyed the silence, hoping he’d taken the hint and would finally let her sleep for once. No such luck. The amp kicked on and Rose instinctively rolled over, reaching for the earplugs.

He began warming up. Playing a few experimental chords as Rose squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore it. It was useless, the earplugs weren’t blocking the noise this evening and the harder she tried to ignore it, the clearer the sound became.

Astonishingly, Mr. McGregor had found a new way to push Rose’s buttons through song. He began to play the first few chords of a popular song she knew too well, then repeated it several times over in a nonstop loop. Rose lay there, waiting for the next part of the song but it never came. He knew more songs than this, so why else would he be doing this if not to annoy her?

Ten minutes passed, and the loop continued, forcing Rose to get out of bed and try to deal with the issue. Unlike previous times, Rose could still hear the music as she climbed the stairs and wondered if the sound was imprinted in her mind after hearing it several times now. She reached the top and noticed his door was wide open as if waiting for her.

His flat was dimly lit with a soft blue glow coming from above and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust before she spotted him. He was seated on a stool at the center of his living room and appeared to be wearing all black along with the same long black coat she had seen him in before. He was also wearing sunglasses which surprised Rose, given that it was nighttime and he was indoors.

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

Feeling himself being watched, Aiden stopped playing and peered back at her. “Welcome back, Miss Tyler.”

“Do you know how to play the rest of that song,” she snarked. “Or are you trying to drive me mad?”

He readied his fingers on the chords. “There you go again, making this all about you.” He played the same riff again, only now he proceeded to play the rest of the song, just to prove to her that he could.

“What about your other neighbors,” Rose hollered over the music.

“What?”

“Your other neighbors,” Rose yelled louder. “Do they ever complain about the noise?”

“Can’t hear you,” Aiden hollered back.

He smirked. She was clearly perturbed. He could practically read her thoughts:. She could hear him; how could he not hear her? Boldly, she entered his flat and marched over to where he sat.

Aiden watched her approach curiously, but his fingers never faltered. Then she had the audacity to unplug his guitar from the amp, immediately cutting the sound off . He gaped at her as she scowled back.

He looked down at his amp and back to her again. Nobody got away with treating his guitar or amp so rudely. Or so he thought, because instead of lashing out like he normally would, all he could do was stare at her, bewildered.

She was first to break the silence. “Can you hear me now?”

“Clearly,” he retorted and stood upright.

She wasn’t letting his height intimidate her, he had to give her that. Looking him directly in the eye, unflinching, she pointed toward his neighbor’s flat. “Don’t your other neighbors complain about you playing so late at night?”

“Them?” Aiden shook his head. “No, they switched units.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Rose responded sarcastically. “Why are you doing this?”

“Just think of this as your own private concert,” Aiden teased.

“I don’t want a private concert,” Rose cried out. “I want to sleep!” She took a deep breath. “If you insist on playing all night, I would appreciate if you would play something else.”

“Fine,” he whined, “I’ll play something else.” He snatched the cable from her hand. “Now go! And shut the door on your way out; I’m catching a draft!”

Rose glared at him one last time before leaving, slamming the door forcefully in the process. Aiden plugged his guitar in and laughed to himself. Aggravating Miss Tyler had become his new favorite hobby and he wasn’t done yet.

He strummed his guitar, choosing a soothing, melodious tune, something to calm Miss Tyler, lull her into a false sense of security. He played for several minutes, imagining her padding back down to her flat, slipping off her dressing gown, and sliding under the covers. She was probably feeling a bloody righteous sense of victory, right at the moment.

Well, he couldn’t let her off with that.

She would just be drifting to sleep, he guessed.

He reached down and cranked the volume on his amp, choosing a new tune: something loud and fast, an obnoxious earworm he could play on a continuous loop. He was certain it would drive Miss Tyler completely mental.

Perfect

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

The next morning Rose had to force herself out of bed. Despite feeling exhausted from an improper night’s sleep, she was on a mission to put an end to this madness. After a breakfast of cold cereal and another phone call to her landlord to complain about her range still not being repaired, she set off to find this flower shop Ianto had told her about.

After a short walk, she found it exactly where Ianto told her it would be. Rose wondered how she had managed to pass it time and time again without so much as glancing at it.

She approached the door and tugged on the handle labeled pull, but it didn’t budge. Instinctively, for reasons she couldn’t fathom, she gave the door a push and it swung open. She stepped inside and took another look at the lettering above the handle, wondering if she read it wrong.

“It’s a trick,” a female voice said from behind the counter next to her. “Sort of a joke, I guess. The owner says if people can’t figure out how to get inside, he’d rather not deal with them.”

The girl fit the description Ianto had given her. “Are you Bill?”

“Yeah.” Bill gave a slight nod. “Can I, maybe, help you with something?”

Rose pulled out a few bank notes and slapped them on the counter. “I’m a friend of Ianto’s and he said you can do anything. So, tell me, how do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ with a flower?”

Bill gawked at the money. “Uh…”

Judging by Bill’s reaction, Rose knew this was an unusual request and wondered if she was being foolish. Then she heard a low chuckle coming from the back room.

“Oh no,” Rose gasped. She knew that sound.

Mr. McGregor emerged from the back. His chuckle turned into a full bellied laugh when he caught sight of her. He was wearing a navy-blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers. Over that he wore a black apron.

His eyes brightened as they met hers. “Miss Tyler, what brings you by?”

“Is this some sort of joke?” she stammered.

Resting his palms on the counter, he leaned closer. “Does it seem like I’m joking?”

“Well, you were just laughing,” Bill pointed out.

Aiden looked at her over his shoulder, disapprovingly.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“I can’t believe I fell for your stupid trick,” Rose spat.

“Not a trick,” he assured her in a strangely calm manner. He snatched a card from a pile on the counter and handed it to her.

Rose read the card aloud, “Gallifrey Flowers.” Below the name was the slogan: “Say it with flowers.”

“You never once mentioned this being your shop.”

“You never asked,” he pointed out.

“Because you’re an arse. Why would I strike up a conversation with you, let alone ask what you do or where you work?” She shoved the card back at him and began to leave. She was halfway out the door when she stepped back in with one final thought. “And for the last time, will you stop with that dreadful guitar playing in the middle of the night. Unlike you, I like to sleep.”

“Dreadful?” he feigned offence. “Just the other day you said I sounded like Keith Richards.”

“Just… GAH!” she cried out, feeling completely flustered and stormed out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bill was flabbergasted by what she had just witnessed. Not because of the arguing either. She was used to Aiden having loud disagreements with customers, almost uncaring about the fact that it was bad for business. This was different. This was personal.

She studied him as he lounged with his elbows resting on the counter and his legs crossed behind him as he continued to chuckle. “Uh, Doctor?”

He held up his index finger, silently telling her to wait while his eyes danced playfully. He grabbed the money Rose had forgotten on the counter and held it up for her to see.

Sure enough, just as she assumed the Doctor had expected, the door flung open again and Miss Tyler hurried over, snatching the money from his fingers as he held it out to her.

She rushed out and the door slammed behind her for the second time. He was still grinning as he watched the top of her blonde head pass by his window. Straightening up, he looked back at her and his smile fell. “What?”

Bill pointed at the door. “What the hell was that about?”

“Just my obnoxious downstairs neighbor.” He retreated to the back, but if he was hoping to escape, he had another thing coming.

“Obnoxious how? She seemed more annoyed by you than you were with her.”

He returned to the flowers he had been working on before Miss Tyler’s visit. “She makes all kinds of noise and leaves angry notes on my door.” He looked up at Bill with another large grin. “She hates me.”

Bill smiled. “But you like her…”

Aiden chuckled. “No.” He turned his attention to the flowers in front of him.

“I saw that twinkle in your eye when she was here.” Bill grabbed a second set of shears to help him while she probed for answers. “Plus, the whole time she was yelling at you, you were strangely calm. You would never let anyone else speak to you that way.”

Aiden quirked his lips into a smile. “Did it ever occur to you that I was just being courteous?”

“Bollocks!” Bill laughed. “The Queen could walk in right now and you would probably still act like an arse.”

“If the Queen were to walk in right now, I’d charge her double,” Aiden joked.

“Exactly my point,” Bill stated. “You hired me to deal with the public because you have a habit of driving people away. Admit it or not, I think you like this Miss Tyler, and you’ve certainly made an impression on her as well. Only the wrong one. If you keep it up you’re going to drive her away too.”

“Good. Then I won’t have to deal with her pestering me over every move I make.”

Bill sighed, “You’re impossible.” She set the shears down and returned to the front of the shop. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Aiden watched Bill leave then continued working. Whatever she was insinuating was ridiculous. This wasn’t some sort of crush. Miss Tyler was entirely too young for him, by about twenty years. If he were to drive her away, so be it. At least he’d be rid of her incessant nagging. It would be best for both of them... Wouldn’t it?

He switched on the radio and turned the volume up as high as it would go. Hoping this would be enough to drown out his current thoughts about Miss Tyler.

It proved to be an effective strategy and it wasn’t long before he was grooving along to the rhythm of the music while he worked his magic. He hummed along, making a few final adjustments to the bouquet before moving on to the final step, tying it all together.

Carefully, he began wrapping a long piece of ribbon tape around the stems when a familiar guitar riff pierced his ears, causing him to lose his grip. It was the first song of the two he had been playing to annoy Miss Tyler the night before. Only now it was taunting him through his own radio.

In a flash, the image of Miss Tyler standing before him in her slippers and dressing gown came to the forefront of his memory. He quickly blinked away that image and looked down to see his hard work now scattered on the floor.

Frustrated, he grabbed the radio and forcefully yanked the cord from the wall, dropping it into the rubbish bin. As if that would put an end to his madness.

Letting out an exasperated groan, Aiden dragged his hands down his face.

What was happening to him?

#doctor who #twelfth doctor #rose tyler #whofic #twelve x rose #au fanfiction #enemies to lovers #fanfiction #ao3

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