#father christmas should take better care of his animals

[consult-sherlockholmes]

What do you think about Rudolph the rednosed reindeer?

What I think about it? Well I think Father Christmas is really not taking good care of his reindeer, if his favourite one has a severe rhinitis. If its nose is so red it seems to be glowing, then something is inflammed severely, which increases blood flow dramatically, causing the red colour. Either due to allergies, or some kind of infection, or maybe the reindeer feel like flying because of a certain white powder they got provided with nasally, also increasing blood flow. They should call a veterinarian for that one. There is no other logical explanation for those things, the reindeers are high on snow, think they are flying and have a severe rhinitis.

[georgiapeach30513]

A Snowflake Melts, Part 3

Summary: it's spring time...or is it?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, stalking, voyeurism, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a glance out the window, eyes raking over the still powdery white lawn. Winter is lasting too long. You had chosen this place because of its long winters, but this has gone on far longer than anticipated. You catch a glimpse of Steve, tending to the animals with a much larger Sugar Cookie and Mistletoe trailing behind. He looks towards you, winking, and your cheeks flare up like the heat of coal.

You look down to the sourdough, trying to avoid his lingering gaze. Steve gives you a boyish grin that you don’t see, his face just as heated as yours, despite the never ending snow. The two of you had too many moments of getting too close, and still it isn’t close enough. You don’t know how much longer you could withstand not touching him.

Especially if the temperature continued to plummet. You fear for the livestock. They’ve been cooped up all winter, and there should be signs of spring arriving. Sighing, you take a glimpse at your phone. You know what you have to do. Your dad had a busy Christmas season, and now he’s in a hibernative state until preparation for the next Christmas season begins.

He would know what to do. He would know how to get in touch with Jack, and demand that he stops the winter. This isn’t right, and he wouldn’t be aware of it if you didn’t tell him. Gulping, you pick up the phone. Steve still had a while before he would come back into the house, you really didn’t want to explain either man to each other.

Rolling your eyes, you call up your dad, waiting until his jolly voice answers the phone. Tapping your fingers on the counter to the merry tune, you nearly lose your voice when he says your name. How long has it been since you’d fully heard his deep timbre, “Babydoll!” You want to cry. He sounds like home.

“Hey, daddy,” the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to crawl into his lap hits you like a ton of bricks. He always knew how to make things better.

“I have so much to tell you, but it doesn’t even matter. It’s good to hear your voice. The few photos you’ve shared haven’t been enough. Did you and Jack make up?” You shake your head like a nerd, but your silence tells him everything. “With it being winter I should have known. To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?”

“Can I not just call you?” His laugh jingles in the air. Everything he does always seems so magical. He is your hero in so many ways. “Well, it’s still very cold.”

“Some places the winter takes longer to fully defrost, you of all people should know that,” it wasn’t just the cold. It is frigid. Steve could only stand to be outside for short bursts to tend to the livestock, and let the girls run around. They love being in the snow.

“There’s no patches. Ste — umm, the lake is still frozen. There’s no melting to see earth. And the snow is still falling,” silence befalls the conversation, and you can only hope it’s a good thing. Your father rarely involved himself in Jack’s business, but Jack to your knowledge has never been so vindictive. His superior is your father.

“Daddy, his tracking works better in the winter. I swear I smelled peppermint, and Missy hissed at me to get back inside,” your father didn’t want to believe that Jack could be mean to you. But he wouldn’t never deny Mistletoe’s unwavering intuition concerning you. She is special, and she takes her job very seriously.

He takes a deep breath in, a low growl spewing out of his mouth, “I’ll take care of it,” the line ends quickly, and you turn your phone off. Laying it on the counter, and watch Steve. You hate to call it frolicking, but you didn’t know how else to describe it. He runs around with the girls in the snow, smiling and teasing them. Missy looks to be playing a game of tag as she bounces between the two of them.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, and you wish that you could be out there with them. Frolicking in the snow, and throwing snowballs at Steve. His cheeks are more red when he’s outside. The prettiest shade of pink. You’re happy that they had someone that could get them out and running.

Nearly returning back to your bread, you notice Missy pausing. Her crystalline eyes darting around the clearing before a gut wrenching scream echoes through the forest. You watch in terror as she sprints to the house, and Steve and Sugar Cookie follow swiftly. They didn’t know what her battle cry was for, but you did. You take tentative steps away from the window. He’s here.

Too scared to even start pulling down the blinds. Huffing and rustling noises sound outside, and you collapse on the floor. Scooting away from the entrances and windows. Clenching your eyes as you cover your face. Rocking back and forth when Missy hisses as she approaches you. Her thick muscular body stalking around you. Followed by Sugar, and you look up to see Steve bring in a wheelbarrow of firewood before he slams the door shut.

He makes quick work of placing the board over the door. He stomps around the house, closing every blind and curtain before he sits on the floor behind you. Steve wraps his arms around your body, and he rocks the two of you much slower than you had been. A steady rhythm before you even dare to speak, “Why did she scream?”

You don’t know if Steve happened to see anyone, or if it was just her instincts. There’s a reason she was yours, but you were also hers. And she immediately liked Steve, even brought him to you. It’s something you struggle with ignoring. It meant something good.

“I believe she smelled peppermint. You want to tell me about this ex?”

“He’s a bounty hunter. The best in the world, and he flourishes in winter,” your words clip off as you look up. The cabin is cast in so much darkness and shadow, and the wind roars outside. Your father clearly spoke to Jack. “There’s going to be a blizzard,” you answer with finality. “The cows and horse?”

“They were fed, and I made a covered cat walk to get to the barn earlier this winter. Nothing will stop me from getting to them. Not snow, not ice. But we’re not dealing with a normal man are we?” You shake your head no. It’s too difficult to explain everything. “Peppermint. Is it like your never ending scent of marshmallow?”

“You smell me?” Everything is caked in terror right now, but Steve can smell you. Mortals didn’t have the gift, but he smells you. That can’t be just luck or coincidence. That’s fate.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. He slides his body from behind you to in front of you. You two stare at each other, sitting on the floor like children. “It’s a very strong scent. Sometimes you smell like roasted marshmallows,” you look away from him, while your embarrassment radiates through your body. He could smell the change. Did he know what that change meant? Did he know that whenever the two of you fell asleep, and you woke up with his arm around you that your body burned for more than his arm.

You’ve tried to remain cool with him living with you because he’s been the biggest help. But simply put, you want him. You like him. You want to feel him all over your body. “What do I smell like?” A bit of pink stains his cheeks, and you look down at your lap, wondering if he’s been feeling the same way you do.

“It depends,” his brow cocks up as he looks at you with a mischievous grin. “Most of the time you smell like pine. Fresh, a bit of darkness, but also bright. But sometimes — sometimes your scent is like burning embers in a fire. That brightness is still there, but it’s smoky, and…deep,” you gulp, and Steve shuffles around on the floor. Making it no secret of adjusting himself. Surely you aren’t alone in these feelings.

“Why,” Steve clears his throat, his eyes cast down your body, staying on your neck and chest. Your body heaves with how deeply you’re breathing. “Why does one’s scent change?”

“Well,” your throat is parched, and you need a tall drink of water, or just him. You aren’t sure, but you’re not the only one uncomfortably swishing around. His scent is so heady and deep that it makes you dizzy. Your vision blurs everything out, but him. He’s more clear than you’ve ever seen him before. “Generally speaking, it’s during heated moments.”

“And what does that mean?” He smirks. Is this flirting? Is he toying with you because he wants you to be explicit about why his scent is changing?

“When,” you close your eyes softly, unable to look at him anymore because emotions are running like crazy in your mind. You try to focus on anything but the quickened beat of his heart. You’d heard about how scents of true mates mimicked one another in some way. Your dad smelled like cinnamon, and your mom like cookies. They complimented each other.

You forced yourself to believe that marshmallows and peppermint worked, but you were the warmth, and he was the cold. You are the very heart of Christmas, while he is the crystal on the trees. Steve’s scent is warm, and harmonizes with yours, and you’re terrified as to what that means.

“Holly?” He pries for more information. His body scoots ever so slightly closer.

“When your scent gets darker like that it’s usually because you’re aroused,” you look away from him quickly, but he captures your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m sorry, this close proximity is getting to me. Fear is elevating it. And…”

“You don’t find me attractive?”

“I didn’t say that,” your voice is timid as you look at him, wishing you could shrivel up inside yourself. His eyes flick down to your mouth, and you forget to breathe. It was only a split second and it stole your thoughts. “You know you’re attractive.”

“To you?” You nod your head, and he inches even closer, “Breathe,” impossible. You cannot breathe currently. You’re struggling to stay afloat here. Your body screams for him, and your mind is saying there’s a blizzard outside due to Jack’s anger of needing to cut winter, and let the spring prevail. He is probably running through the woods looking for you. He’s close, but Steve is closer. “I’m right here.”

Steve holds your gaze, and you wish he’d just close the gap. Wish he would end your misery, and judging by the tightness in his pants, his own. What did you have to lose? You’d been here for months with Steve, growing to know him. And nothing happened. The most that had happened was snuggling. Giggling. Smiles. Fun. Warmth despite the cold. Home.

It’s hit you in this moment, while you missed your parents and ‘home’, you’d miss Steve even more. He is home. Wherever he is, you want to be.

“Kiss me,” you whisper because you dread the rejection that’s about to follow. Instead Steve adjusts himself to his knees. Leaning forward too slowly, “Steve?”

“I’m taking my time, but I do plan on kissing you,” he studies you from this angle and closeness. Looking at you like he’s never seen you before. Never seen anyone but you before. Everything freezes and stands still as you study him. Nothing before now mattered, and nothing else will ever matter but him. Home.

The two of you create a snow globe with this tiny little cabin. The snow may swirl around outside with Jack’s fury, but you’re safe with him. Right where you belong. Jack’s need to isolate you, made you want to truly be alone, and in that journey, you found Steve. A friend. And now…

He inhales briskly before he closes the gap. A tingle of a snowflake surges through you the moment you touch, and then your body lights up with a cozy fire. Immediately you pull him back with you as you lay down on the floor. His body hovers over you, and this just doesn’t seem enough. Months of being separated by clothes, and all you want is him all over you, and in you. Two people becoming one.

His tongue instantly brushes against your lips, and hungrily you open your mouth to grant him access. Home. You can’t explain it. It’s just a perfectly fuzzy feeling. Like Christmas morning with people you love. People that you need in your life, and you claw at the material daring to keep the two of you separated.

Howling winds beat at the doors and windows as each of you pull and tug desperately at the other's clothes. Swirling hands and arms wrestling to get each other naked. To feel him in the depths of your soul. Your hand runs up his bare chest, resting over his heart, and you take comfort in knowing his heart is bursting to get out, too.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks. Giving the two of you a moment to realize that you are as naked as the day you were born. You hadn’t even given yourself a chance to stare at the most perfect man in existence. Hadn’t even gawked at the steel rod he’s kept hidden. Has it been as hard for him these past few months as it has been for you? “We can wait.”

He tries to keep his eyes on yours, but he curiously glances over your body. Tracing the gentle curves of you, until he sees your weeping cunt, and a squeak exits his mouth. “I don’t want to,” he grips tightly to the base of his cock, and smooths it through your folds. Your mouth gapes open at the erotic feeling of his wet skin on yours. You’ve never wanted anything more.

“Steve, I want,” his hips jut forward, and the crown of his cock rests at your entrance. “I want you.”

“Shh,” he looks down between the two of you. Silently gawking at his head just kissing against your entrance. “They say when a woman really wants a man,” his mouth lifts into a smile, while yours turns into an O. Arching your back, while you look up at the ceiling. “That her body just sucks him in.”

If you didn’t see it happen or feel it, you would laugh and think he was crazy. But your cunt pulls him into you. Sucking him like a lifeline, and he sinks into your wet heat slowly. Making your body mold to him. Letting you feel every ridge of his cock, and follow the vein on the underside of his length. He doesn’t stop until he is balls deep, and the cabin rattles. Shutters trembling when he fully seats himself into you.

Your arm wraps around his neck because you’re obsessed with this feeling. The feeling of having him so close, and still it didn’t feel close enough. The lights fade in and out. The power suffering from the connection, but you still only see Steve. You see nothing but the man that changed everything.

Grunts, sniffs, snorts, howls, screams, and a world of horror rages outside your bubble, and you don’t hear the torment of Jack’s wrath. The storm of his power failing to break in, and rip the two of you apart. You don’t hear the lashing of his anger. Water immediately turns to ice. You only hear Steve’s heartbeat.

Steve pulls himself out of you, snapping his hips quickly back in place. The feeling of not being in you, torturing him to the point of a quick return. Grabbing onto his ass, you pull him more into your depths. Pleasure wraps you into a cocoon with every roll of his body into yours. Had it been so long or was this really that great? You’re guessing it is that great because immediately you're dumb off him.

Your vision is blurry with anything that doesn’t involve this moment. Hell is happening in the forest. The demons of winter come out as reinforcements for Jack, but inside is the brightness and warmth that winter can have. The Spirit of Christmas being reborn, and coming into its own power. Sobbing out his name when a crash of lightning rockets the most intense pleasure in your body, and Steve halts his movements to stare at you.

“What was that?” He smiles down at you.

“I wanna ride you,” you knew Steve was a strong man, but the ability he has to lift you up without leaving your warmth. He walks you over to the couch. Sitting down, and immediately you start bouncing on him. Bringing his hands to your chest, letting him knead the spheres, while you ride him. Pressing your forehead against his. Breathing in his smoky scent. Fusing the two of you together for all eternity.

Breathing so deeply you see stars, and you crash your lips into his like your life depends on it. Swallowing all his moans, and all his sweet pleasure. Because each of you owns that. You’re claiming the other’s euphoria as your own.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack curses. Looking up to the sky when another crash of lighting lights up the cabin and your silhouette. “Such a fucking whore!” He kicks a tree, knocking it down to the forest floor. Bringing other trees with it, creating so much chaos, and you don’t falter your movements. You hear nothing.

“No! Nonononono!!!”

His eyes turn to pure ice. Gathering up all the cold he can muster until a figure lands in front of him, punching him in the chest. “That’s enough of that,” he cracks his neck as he looks to the cabin. Another round of lightning illuminating the two of you.

“You get off on watching your ex? I’m sure her father wouldn’t think too kindly of this temper tantrum.”

“Why are you here?” Jack grunts, and crawls out of the snowflakes. He glares at the head of the soldiers of winter. He’d known where you were all along. Of course he did.

“Well, I am her personal bodyguard, and your time is up. You’ve extended winter, were told to cut it out, and now you’re sorely pissing me off by making this storm, and more damn snow. She doesn’t realize you’re even out here, you know why, don’t cha?” Jack glares up at the tall soldier. His eyes are nearly as icy and cold as his own.

“There’s nothing you can do now. You chased her right into the arm of her mate,” it’s the very thing Jack has been refusing to admit. To see. The reason he was trying to break into the cabin, and stop this foolishness. You belonged to him, and instead, just like the whore you were, were spreading your legs for an idiot.

“He’s a mortal!” Jack growls. He bounces up, and stands nose to nose with the soldier. “He’s nothing. He’s not good enough for her! She belongs to me, and I will destroy him!”

“Are you threatening the Spirit of Christmas’ mate?” Jack doesn’t back down, but the soldier sees in his eyes the fear. “You’re already on probation. You were supposed to return north.”

“And what about her!” He shouts, and it isn’t lighting that lights up the house, but something else entirely. A warm glow encapsulates you and Steve, and the soldier grimaces as both of you scream out in pleasure. And the glow remains, and all anyone can see is you two sharing breaths.

“It’s done. You can’t fake that, and he’s not ready. They have seasons to get through. And nowhere does it say she belongs north. You do. So get your ass back where it belongs, and deal with your consequences. She wasn’t ever for you. You dulled her light. You were with her for years, and never could produce an heir. Because she wasn’t yours!”

“You’re playing the old man’s politics again, soldier. It doesn’t look good on you,” Jack cocks up an eyebrow, but the soldier knocks him again, sending him to the icy floor. “Would you stop?” Jack had forgotten how deadly the soldier could be.

“Go home.”

“I don’t want to. I have business to attend to.”

“Go home!”

“She is mine!”

“She’s been fucking claimed, you creep. Do you see that glow? Do you see the two of them wrapped in it? If you stayed in contact with the boss you would have known,” the soldier looks back to the cabin, and still that glow radiates around the two of you. Growing brighter. Warmer.

Jack rolls his eyes as he starts to walk deeper into the woods. “The fucking cat again?”

“She’s not an ordinary cat. You hate her because she’s never liked you. Kris just tolerated you because he thought you made Holly happy. And you’re not walking that way,” Jack freezes, and spins around to glare at him. “You’re coming directly with me. The boss wants a private word with you, and I’d meet with him. You’d hate to be demoted. Again.”

Jack’s full arm points towards the cabin. Annoyed that the soldier is ignoring you laying down with a mere mortal. Hadn’t even let him slip out of you. The two of you were sickeningly just staring at each other, “Now that you’re gone, those two will have some peace and quiet, and she can go outside, and enjoy the snowflakes, like she’s supposed to,” Jack grunts again, but the soldier grabs his arm roughly, and they disappear with a flicker.

You tremble in Steve’s arms, but his soothing hands on your back calm you slightly. That was new. All of it was new. Like you’d never had sex before. Nothing has ever been or felt like that, “That was magical,” he pants, looking across your glistening skin. He starts ghosting his lips over your shoulder. Looking so beautiful, the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

You should tell him. You should tell him everything, but you can’t. You’re terrified that he will run. You just need more time. Let him see you in your element. Unafraid of the outdoors. Missy meows loudly, and you jerk your head towards her. He was gone. But he was here. Lifting up Steve’s hands to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, “Winter’s over.”

“Holly it was brewing a blizzard earlier. Winter isn’t over.”

“If you say so,” you know deep down inside of you that winter is over. He’d returned. Somehow you just know that this snow wouldn’t last. By tomorrow afternoon, you’d see a patch of earth, maybe even some green. His power couldn’t hold the winter any longer. It had overstayed its welcome, and now spring can prevail. And you can join Steve outside tomorrow. A new adventure awaits.

“How does this work?” He asks, kissing around your neck, and you hum in question. “Are you on anything? Are we taking a gamble here?”

“Are you asking about pregnancy?”

“Yeah,” he looks up at you confused, and you give him a sweet smile. “I’m not opposed, but it’s very early,” you couldn’t tell him that your window with pregnancy was during a true winter. While not impossible, it is extremely unlikely to happen.

“I’m not, but after this time, maybe we should be more careful,” you see what he’s thinking. He didn’t have a supply of condoms with him. “Just pull out. I trust you,” you pull him in for a sweet kiss, you’d never tire of this.

“Are you worried about your ex?” You shake your head no. Jack could never hurt you again. Well, almost never. At least his powers would be drained until next winter. “Are you going to come outside and build a snowman with me tomorrow?”

“He’ll probably be a teeny tiny snowman,” you didn’t have the heart to tell him that snow outside was not going to last. You didn’t want to terrify the man. Leave him with more questions before he ever works through his feelings with you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you smile, kissing him as you answer yes. “Okay. Me, too.”

And everything would be okay. Everything is going to be okay.

“You girls stay away from the cows!” Steve yells over to Mistletoe and Sugar Cookie. Giving the two of them a disapproving look because Missy wants to play. He clears his throat when the stubborn cat takes another step towards the cows.

“Steve,” you giggle trying to pull him back down to the blanket. “Just sit back down. Leave them alone. The cows enjoy the attention,” you always let them get away with everything. “Here. What do you think of this?”

“Everything you make tastes delicious,” he says with a grunt, falling down onto the blanket, but more importantly onto you. Your cheeks heat up with unashamed happiness as he starts nipping on your neck. His body crawls more on top of you, and you playfully try to get him off.

“Steve! We’ve got to eat.”

“Mmm, I’d rather be eating you.”

“I’m sure you would,” your voice darkens, and Steve jumps off you. Sitting up straight, and starts to pick at the fruit in the picnic basket. “No, that's not fair!”

“If you don’t want me to eat you, then I’ll eat these grapes. I can think of something so much sweater,” he’d been insatiable. So had you. You wanted to try and get some fresh air that didn’t include washing the sheets again.

You groan, falling onto the blanket, and in his lab. “What cha doing?” He asks, looking more like a schoolboy than the sex fiend he is. As much as you love winter and the snow, seeing Steve’s arms exposed in that stupidly tight shirt, and his freckles start to pop out over his nose is amazing. You’ve loved the seasons for their own beauty, but Steve is adding to that beauty. He is beautiful.

You discover something new about him everyday. Every hour, you learn a new story of his, or find a mark on his body, a new move he’s used on you, a new way to make him climax, a new facial expression when you tell a corny joke. It didn’t matter, you just wanted to soak every part of him up. So much newness and you thought you were learning about him when you were just friends in a cabin.

“Winter would have been miserable without you,” he pops another grape into his mouth before he looks down at you. “I’m serious.”

“Are you talking about me or my cock?” You roll your eyes at him. Did he seriously forget the months that you were just cuddling?

“You’re such a teenager! I am talking about you,” his cheeks turn rosy as he looks across the property, avoiding your gaze, and you can’t look at the beauty here, because you’re struck on him. He is far more beautiful than any forest.

“Stop staring,” he giggles, staring down the road that leads to his cabin that he’s never returned to. Well, to stay in. The two of you did bring his clothes here. “I think we should go visit your folks,” he says nonchalantly. Still refusing to meet your eyes. He’s so embarrassed, and it’s adorable.

“I don’t know if you’re ready to meet them.”

“Why not?” He looks down at you accusatory. “I’m fun. And cute. And you love — spending time with me,” holy shit. He knows. He knows but is afraid to say it. It’s more endearing in a way. “Why?”

“It’s complicated. My dad is kinda famous.”

“A famous delivery man? Okay. So you’re not ashamed of me?” You gasp, clutching your nonexistent pearls. “Okay, I’ll take that as you’re not ashamed. So when do I get to meet them?”

“You really want to?” He gives a smile, nodding his head as he lifts you up from his lap. Holding you almost like a doll as he kisses your lips over and over again. “Okay okay! But you have to have an open mind, and you can’t judge. Judging kills the — essence.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“My dad kinda runs on people believing in him,” you cringe, trying to come up with a way to explain things. It’d probably work best with actually seeing it. Everyone believes when they see. “But he does tend to hibernate in spring. Maybe…maybe in fall? Give him some time to get ahead for the winter season.”

“I like these riddles,” he starts kissing you again. Pulling you on top of him as he lays back, his head in the grass and not on the blanket. “He’s a delivery man, he hibernates in spring, Christmas is his biggest season but it’s everyone’s in retail, he needs you to believe him so his ego must be a bit broken, and you flourish in winter. I get why you call yourself the Spirit of Christmas,” he had no idea…

And you didn’t call yourself that. That was a title bestowed to you. But for the first time in your life, you feel like you deserve it. The joy that wraps around your heart with just the simplest of acts makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. Like roasting the most decadent marshmallows.

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Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

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@pandaxnienke @musingsfromthemitten @distractingbeth

[mzannthropy]

Rewatched Cinderella 1950,and now I'm imagining a Camibilly Cinderella au. Instead of two evil stepsisters, Nicky's an evil stepbrother.

That's the Disney old animated one, right? @jesstasticvoyage omg this reminds of that article last year that suggested Sam for a prince in a potential live action Disney (sometimes you find some good articles on Sam, even when they're not written by me). He did play a prince charming character, William in Snow White and the Huntsman (my beloved. If William has one fan it's me, if he has zero fans, I'm dead), which is a darker take on the fairytale and he's not there as much as he should be, imo, bc, I suspect, they had Chris Hemsworth in his early Thor days so ofc they focused on him (tbf, he is the titular huntsman). Then, and I'm the only person who will tell you this: if you close one eye and squint with the other, Philip in Pirates of the Caribbean On Stranger Tides is a near thing to a prince, though he's a priest/missionary. If you just take out his story with the mermaid, it has something in common with the little mermaid tale. (This long introduction serves no purpose other than satisfying my urge to ramble about Sam Claflin, but you enter the blog of a Sam Claflin fan at your own risk). Okay, grab a snack bc I'm really into this idea!

I’ve always liked Cinderella, my mum used to read me a lot of fairytales when I was a child. I’ve not seen the Disney version until I was about 9 (I grew up in communism so we didn’t have Disney, it all arrived after the revolution.) Personally I prefer the 2015 live action one. But the Cinderella film that is really my Cinderella is Three Wishes for Cinderella (1973), a Czech/East German production. It’s considered a Christmas film bc it features a lot of snow and it’s always shown on TV during Christmas time. Norwegians did a remake in 2021 but it didn’t seem to meet with much love. (And rightly so, it’s like remaking Princess Bride. It just should not be done.) A actress named Camila has played a Cinderella—Camila Cabello. There was a lot to like about her version, but I felt it was kinda too self aware and besides, they should have just made it gay. Ever After, otoh, is outstandingly good. (This paragraph serves no purpose other than letting me go on about Cinderella, but you enter a blog of a person who rambles a lot on your own risk.)

I think Cinderella having an evil stepbrother instead of evil stepmother and stepsisters is a good choice, it’s something new. So we imagine Camila in the Cinderella role, all the parents/step-parents dead and Nicky as the stepbrother who lords over the manor and mistreats everyone. Camila can hold her own against Nicky, but she is cautious about setting him off too much bc she is worried he will hurt people she cares about, like all the tenants that live on their grounds. Camila has always been caring towards all of them, when their children got ill, for example, she would go to this herbalist and buy herbs and made them tea, etc. Karen is the steward’s daughter and Camila’s bestie.

Daisy is a young bard who wanders the kingdoms with her lute and sings songs of princesses and knights and dragons and all that kinda stuff. She is very popular wherever she turns up.

Billy is the king, who has just ascended to the throne after the death of his father. He had a strained relationship with his father, bc he used to cheat on his mum, whom Billy was very close to. She has died too and Billy has been a somewhat bitter young man. Teddy Price is the loyal king’s advisor and a better father figure to Billy than his own dad ever was. Rod Reyes is the captain of the guards. Graham is a young knight who lives at the court and is Billy’s bestie. They go riding and hunting together. One day in the woods they meet a young lady rider, who is totally not impressed by Billy, king or no king, she is like, I should think someone in your position should have better manners, YOUR MAJESTY. Billy can’t believe the impertinence but Graham is ROFL-ing at it. The young lady rider is ofc our Camila, but Billy doesn’t know who she is. (Going with the Three Wishes and 2015 versions of Cinderella, also Kate and Anthony of Bridgerton meet cute.)

As with any Cinderella adaptation, a ball is organised where the prince king is to meet his future wife. Billy wants it done and over with, bc he supposes he needs a queen and heirs, but Teddy has a talk with him about how marriage needs to be a mutual respect and understanding, even when it comes to kings, but Billy retorts that it wasn’t like that with his parents. Teddy tells him it doesn’t have to be like that with him.

The young king’s mood is not improved by a conflict with a neighbouring kingdom. Their princess has gone missing, right under the nose of the regent, Eddie. The two kingdoms were always at loggerheads (over a piece of land or resources, pick whatever you like) and it’s only gone worse. There’s even a threat of war, but luckily their foreign affairs minister, Warren, manages to calm the matters down with his amazing diplomacy skills. He and Billy’s kingdom foreign affairs minister, Lisa, find an understanding—in more ways than one, lololol.

Billy meets Camila again in the woods, this time they’re friendlier to each other. She apologises to him for her previous behaviour, bc she really shouldn’t be like that with her king, but he says he deserved it. He asks her who she is but she rides away without telling him. Billy can’t stop thinking about her.

The day of the ball approaches. Nicky won’t hear of Camila going to the ball and locks her in her quarters. This is when the Fairy Godmother Simone enters the scene. You know the drill. Karen is coming to the ball too, bc the palace also has another ballroom for the middle classes, and that’s where Karen goes. Karen’s dad, the steward, is driving them to the palace in a carriage (not pumpkin-shaped, that’s a Disney invention. It’s normal carriage.)

The ball takes place, Camila and Billy meet there so he finally knows who she is and they dance together, yadda yadda. Midnight strikes, but they keep dancing, bc we’re adults here. Also, it turns out Simone is actually the lady who organised the ball, she was friends with the late queen, she just side hustles as a Fairy Godmother. Also that herbalist that Camila has been buying from is her gf Bernie. That’s how Simone knew Camila was good and deserved her help.

Graham takes a peak into the other ballroom, likes it better, dances with Karen and falls for her. Now, you know how much it matters to me that Karen ended up single on DJATS, but I don’t object to her and Graham together in an AU, so here you have it.

Camila explains the situation with Nicky and tells Billy she doesn’t want to abandon her people bc they need her, so she can’t marry him. Billy is determined to sort the situation out. He comes to their manor the next day and has it out with Nicky, who ends up falling head first into a horse manure and everyone sees it and laughs at him. Nicky has no choice but to leave the kingdom in disgrace. The manor then can be managed by the steward and Camila and Billy can get married.

The problems with the neighbouring kingdom don’t just go away, Lisa and Warren only managed a temporary peace. But this, too, gets solved one day when their princess returns. Sure enough, this is Daisy, who has been LARPing as a bard by way of running away from her responsibilities. But seeing king Billy mature in such a way (bc she was in his kingdom just when all of the above was happening) inspired her to get her own shit together. She says sorry to Eddie for tricking him like that, but he is just relieved that she’s home and safe. The two kingdoms sign a treaty and all is well.

Oh and also Rod came with Billy that day Billy went to Camila’s place to confront Nicky and he met Karen’s dad the steward, who is a widower, and they fell in love. Everybody’s coupled up and happy, and isn’t that what fairytales are all about?

Bonus: Actually. Not that anyone asked but. I do have an OC whose faceclaim is Sam and who is a prince. I never found a faceclaim for his love interest, but she is someone who is the type like Camila Morrone. So I just decided it's her. These character have lived in my head for a long time, though I've so far written only one short piece with them which is posted on my writing blog. Link. Maybe this ask is not the place to talk about my OC, but you enter the blog of a writer on your own risk. (Feel free to ignore!)

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

June of Doom 2

@juneofdoom Day 2: Scream | Forced to Watch

(( child whumpee / parental whumper / abusive parent / magic whump / cruciatus curse / bloody injury / forced to kill / reluctant whumper / fantasy racism / Muggle torture ))

fandom: Harry Potter whumpee: Lucius Malfoy age 11 / random Muggle whumper: Abraxas Malfoy / Lucius Malfoy / Pureblood side characters words: 1100

The Muggle screamed, a horrifying broken sound as he writhed in the frosty grass. Nearly a dozen wizards were loosely circled around him, lit only by a full moon that seemed huge. 

Lucius had never been allowed to witness the Christmas Muggle hunt before, except from his bedroom window, and that didn't really convey the visceral realities of it. He'd never seen the Cruciatus curse up close before. It was only a Muggle, but it was still unsettling, all those screams. Watching the way he clawed at the earth and pulled his fingernails up, and his limbs twisted around at bizarre angles. His back arched up so sharply it looked like it would snap, and his eyes were just… blank. 

The screaming cut off as Black ended the curse. The Muggle collapsed, twitching and gurgling wetly. Some of the other wizards were talking amongst themselves, with their pipes or drinks. Some didn't even have their wands out. It was like they didn't actually care.

He watched quietly, trying to fit in with that and take his cue from them, and especially from his father. His father was hardly paying attention, talking with old Macmillan about a Ministry job he was going to set him up for now that the Mudblood Minister was out. That was so normal. 

He should just be normal.

He looked back at the Muggle, reminding himself it was just a Muggle. Basically an animal. He'd been practising curses on animals for years.

"Go on, boy," Lestrange said. He had his younger son there with them, the next youngest person there after Lucius; he had just left school. It was his first time, too. He'd been at some of the parties before, but not the hunt afterward. 

Rodolphus smirked and lazily waved his wand with a silent spell, so that chains leapt into being and bound the Muggle tightly. "Flagrante."

Lucius knew that curse — it made things unimaginably hot. He didn't see the use at first, though, and there wasn't any change he could see. Then the Muggle started screaming in high, desperate shrieks, jerking around, and the sizzling and the smell of cooking meat answered for themselves. It was the chains that were burning. They scorched through the Muggle clothes and dug red and crispy black streaks into his skin. The smell was revolting… It made the brandy he'd been given to drink sit badly in his stomach, and he looked away uncomfortably, twisting his wand in his hand. 

His father caught his eyes, and he immediately dropped his to the ground.

Not enough. A wave of Father's wand ended those curses, and then he cast a general healing spell that covered over the burns and silenced the screaming into choked sobbing breaths. "Lucius hasn't had the opportunity," his father suggested. It wasn't a suggestion.

"He is just eleven, isn't he?" Nott pointed out. A couple of the adults had a look about them.

"Twelve tomorrow. Old enough to be a man." 

Lucius lifted his chin defiantly. They didn't think he could do it? They should know better than to underestimate a Malfoy. He settled his wand in his hand firmly, wiping a little sweat from his palm, and looked down at the Muggle.

What should he do? Most of the curses he'd practised seemed very childish now. Silencing or freezing or binding jinxes that would be useless on someone who was already prisoner. 

The Muggle's wide eyes darted around in a panic, seemingly only semi-intelligent. An animal fighting on instinct. That was pathetic.

But those eyes caught his and fixed on him, pleading, full of desire if not true sapience. That seemed to settle in his stomach, like the drink and the smell, making it roil. 

How dare he? Just a Muggle, how dare he make him feel low? He had no right! He slashed his wand down. "Exoculo!" he said firmly with intense focus, and a gash raked sideways across the Muggle's face, across both eyes, spraying blood and clear fluid. The man — no, the Muggle — screamed again and jerked back in the grass, trying to get away from him. 

Why didn't he feel any better? He'd taught the creature a lesson and made him stop looking, but his stomach was still twisting and his hands were still sweating. He really was going to be sick… 

Some of the wizards laughed, and Black clapped his shoulder. "Precocious," he praised. "I only hope my boys take to magic like this."

That felt a little better. At least he could ignore the sick feeling.

"I'm sure they will; all it takes is the right environment," his father said, and glanced at the Muggle trying to crawl away. "Let's wrap this us and retire, shall we? You know the Killing Curse, Lucius?"

He wasn't so certain about this. He did know it, he knew what it was, but that wasn't the same… But he did. "Yes, sir." He glanced at his father to make sure that was the right answer, and it was.

"You're not saying he already knows those, Malfoy," Nott insisted. Now he looked actually uncomfortable.

"What are you waiting for?" Father instructed him. 

He knew the theory, but not practically… But that was all he really needed, right? He could make it work if he had to. He took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the Muggle. The thing. The beast. It was just getting rid of a pest, like stepping on an ant or a fairy. "Avada Kedavra." 

He could feel as he said it that he'd done it wrong. He didn't have the conviction, or his magic power wasn't great enough… Whatever it was, those were just empty words. His body tensed in anticipation of the punishment he'd receive later, when the other wizards were gone. 

"That's to be expected, I suppose," Macmillan said easily. "It's quite advanced magic. It would have been tremendously impressive if he had, at that age…"

"Quite," was all his father said, and it sounded cool to him.

Rodolphus apparently sensed an opening. "Avada Ked—!" He cut off sharply; Lestrange cuffed his boy upside the head to stop him taking liberties that would annoy their host. 

Father ignored that. "It's still time to clean up. Diffindo." He sliced a Severing Charm across the Muggle in a small spray of blood, but the placement wasn't immediately lethal, it just ran across his stomach. The thing screamed again. 

Father gestured toward the Muggle and the other wizards followed suit, slicing the writhing Muggle up with charms, spraying blood across the grass. His father was looking at him, an imperious stare. He dropped his eyes back to the Muddle. "Diffindo." He watched another cut open in the path of his wand across the Muggle's chest, and more blood run out to pool around him, staining the ground dark in the moonlight.

[aikoiya]

DP Christmas Fic Prompt

I NEED a DP fic where Vlad plays as Scrooge.

Like, I don't want the main character to be Danny. He should only be a secondary character at most. Hell, you could feasibly make him the Tiny Tim of the fic, but instead of him being crippled with illness, the problem is much more nuanced. Ranging from the stress of protecting the town day in & day out, his parents being so utterly detrimental to his Christmas experience, or even the possible looming threat of his own parents discovering his identity & possibly not reacting in the best way.

The 3 ghosts shouldn't be anyone familiar as far as Danny Phantom goes. That would just cheapen the story.

Just the ghosts from the story.

Now, I think that the Ghosts of Christmas Time get a pass as far as the Christmas Truce goes because they don't do anything to detriment people. Rather the opposite. What they do is largely for people's benefits.

But even more interesting would be if Christmas Carol was a true story that everyone in the fic just thinks was made up by Dickens. But really, he just wrote what he was told by the real Scrooge.

Now, this is Vlad in the modern era, who knows the story, but thinks it's all rubbish.

What if the ghosts were able to turn off his powers? I imagine that they are powerful zeitgeists, but less powerful than Clockwork.

I'm really liking the Scrooge: A Christmas Carol movie so far, so maybe it can be a mix of that & the other animated Scrooge movie?

No Cheerlings or Fearlings, though please.

---

Now, I hc that Vlad grew up rich, bit still had not the best life.

I write him as having a terrible, narcissistic, abusive, neglectful father who cared little for him beyond what Vlad could do for him & a sweet, kind, demure & doting mother who loved him. All-in-all, his early Christmases were good ones as it was the only time of year when his father would soften & his mother got to enjoy herself.

Until one Christmas, when his mother miscarriages & she begins to get depressed.

Skip forward to Christmas after his father's death & his mother's struggles to keep Christmas a happy time for them. Then subsequent lonely Christmases after he'd been admitted to boarding school by his relatives upon his mother spiraling into mental instability & hospitalization.

Next would come Christmas in college & the fun of having real friends that didn't care about his riches or status.

Followed by Christmases in isolation in the hospital.

But much like in Scrooge, it'd show another side to the story.

Past would show him a different perspective of his accident. One where it was a mistake on both Maddie & Jack's part. Then, their worry for him as they waited for him, then were shuffled out by doctors worried for radiation.

How they'd tried to stay connected over the years, but were always turned away & their letter burned by who Vlad recognizes as Spectra, who had be feeding off of his misery that whole time.

Followed by his many years of loneliness even after having been let out of the hospital. Christmases working overtime to impress corrupt businessmen that darkened his heart. Then, later schmoozing with competitors, only to overshadow or kill them & take all their money.

Once Present is involved. He gets greater incite into Danny's life & how awful his parents make it for him during that time of year as well as his general paranoia that someone will break the Christmas Truce.

He is also briefly shown just how difficult his life is as the protector of Amity. Just how little sleep he gets & even his regrets over not having someone he can really relate to. How, he almost had Vlad, but the old man ruined it by be a megalomaniacal idiot.

Vlad learns that, even now, Jack wishes for his good health, while Maddie just does not like him ever since he tried to come on to her in Colorado.

In the Future, he sees... Essentially, the fallout of Phantom Planet.

Yes, initially, Danny's life is better, but it slowly goes downhill. The stress of having to protect an entire town while making up for his parent's overenthusiastic mistakes.

Their overreaching as they ask to study him.

How he can't leave town because, if he did, the town would collapse.

He even gets a brief view of Dan's timeline & how it lead to Dan, the destruction of Earth & Vlad's part in it.

Before finally seeing what happened to himself in Phantom Planet. Space dust...

[princesssarisa]

7-questions ask for chip and mrs Potts from beauty and the beast

Mrs. Potts

Three facts about them from my personal headcanons.

She was born in poverty in England, traveled to France in search of a better life, and through hard work and reliability, rose to the status of housekeeper in the Prince's castle.

In the animated version, she's not married and never has been married; she's just called "Mrs." as a title of respect, as was traditional for older housekeepers. (For example, Nelly Dean in Wuthering Heights, who never marries but is still called "Mrs. Dean" by Lockwood.) Chip was an orphan whom she adopted by herself; this explains how she can be such a young boy's mother despite being past childbearing age.

Chip is her only real, once-human child. His "brothers and sisters" are just the castle's set of teacups, whom the spell gives the ability to move and obey Mrs. Potts's commands, but they have no personalities of their own.

A reason they suck:

Hmm... I guess that she thinks Chip is fibbing at first when he tells her there's a girl in the castle.

A reason they are great:

Her kind, intelligent, motherly nature, and the way she balances the more extreme personalities of Cogsworth and Lumiere, being warm yet not flamboyant and sensible yet not rigid.

A reason I relate to them:

I also enjoy taking care of people.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character:

In the animated and stage versions, none, though based on the final scene, I can imagine her possibly having a future with Maurice. In the 2017 remake, her husband Jean.

Five things that never happened to the character that I believe should have happened:

In a perfect world, she would never have been turned into a teapot. (Though without the spell, there would be no plot.)

In the 2017 remake, I wish her husband Jean had been at the castle when the spell was cast, so they wouldn't have had to be separated all those years. He would have been turned into crockery too, but at least they would have been together.

Also in the 2017 remake, I wish the script hadn't given her that line about how "People say a lot of things in anger" in response to Belle's concern about the Beast saying she couldn't eat unless she ate with him. That line comes all too close to abuse apologism. I hate it when people make light of real cruelty by playing the "We all say things we don't mean when we're angry" card.

She should have shared some dialogue with Belle before the dance scene to mirror the Beast's with Lumiere.

Her human design in the animated version probably shouldn't have had white hair, just because so many people complain that she looks too old to be Chip's mother.

Five people that character never fell in love with and why.

Lumiere. He's a good friend, but a bit too wild and not grounded enough.

Cogsworth. He's also a good friend, but too fussy and tense.

The Beast/Prince Adam. Even after his character development, he's too young for her.

Gaston. She barely meets him and of course he's a villain.

Chef Bouche/Cuisinier. He's also a friend, but too much of a melodramatic "artiste" for her taste.

Chip

Three facts about them from my personal headcanons.

In the animated film, he was an orphan who was adopted by Mrs. Potts as a baby. This explains why she has such a young son at her age and why he has no father.

He was six years old when the spell was cast and has stayed six years old ever since. The Enchanted Objects don't age because their bodies aren't organic. (Yes, I know this probably contradicts The Enchanted Christmas, since there he has no memory of what Christmas is, which implies that he was a baby or toddler when the spell was cast. But by that logic – assuming he wan't born as a teacup – he should be at least ten years old, which he clearly isn't. Besides, I don't count direct-to-video sequels as canon.)

When he grows up, he'll take over the position of castle maître'd after Lumiere retires.

A reason they suck:

That his shining moment of using Maurice's invention to free Belle and Maurice from the cellar is cut from the stage musical and the live-action remake. While I understand why it wouldn't work onstage, I think they could have made it work with the CGI Chip in the remake.

A reason they are great:

He's adorable and a likable audience surrogate for little kid viewers.

A reason I relate to them:

I don't always understand the subtext in people's interactions that everyone else seems to understand easily. Much like Chip doesn't grasp the "something there" that the adults see between Belle and the Beast.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character:

None until he meets someone his own age.

Five things that never happened to the character that I believe should have happened:

In a perfect world, that he had never been turned into a teacup.

That even as a teacup, he didn't have to sleep in the cupboard.

That instead of "I'll tell you when you're older," his mother had been straightforward and said "We think the master and Belle might be falling in love." (Although maybe she didn't want to get his hopes up in case it didn't work out.)

That in the stage version and the 2017 remake, his shining moment of freeing Belle and Maurice from the cellar hadn't been cut.

Also in the 2017 remake, that his father Jean had been at the castle when the spell was cast, so they didn't have to be separated.

Five people that character never fell in love with and why.

Belle. She's like a grown-up sister to him.

Fifi/Babette/Plumette. She's also too old for him.

Madame Armoire/de la Grande Bouche/de Garderobe. Again, too old.

Mrs. Potts. No mother/son incest!

Any of the Bimbettes. He never meets them.

[moviemunchies]

I decided I should watch a new Christmas movie that I hadn’t seen before, and so I looked at the Netflix holiday collection, and I found this! I remember seeing that it existed when it first came out, so I thought I’d give it a go.

Here’s what I thought.

A Boy Called Christmas opens with the framing device of these three kids in modern day, whose Dad has to leave for work or something, and they’re being left in the care of their late mother’s aunt. They haven’t had time to decorate for Christmas this year. To get them into the spirit, their aunt tells them this story, which is the basis of the movie.

And so at some point in the past in Finland, a boy named Nikolas lives in the woods with his father. When the king calls his subjects to find a sign of hope in these troubled times, Nikolas’s father goes with some of the local men to Elfhelm, a storied land from his late wife’s stories. When he doesn’t come back, Nikolas goes on a quest to go find his father–leading him to becoming the legend that we all know and love. 

It’s another Santa Claus origin movie, basically. And it’s… it’s fine.

[makes vague, non-committal gestures]

Look, the fact is that the movie is entertaining as a kids’ movie. The Plotting and character work is severely lacking, though. I kept comparing it to the Rankin-Bass Santa Claus is Coming to Town, which is also an origin story for Santa. And that one, to my memory, didn’t have a bunch of elements that were lacking justification for being in the story.

Take the mouse. Early on, Nikolas saves a mouse and swears to teach him to speak. Speak he does, eventually (with Wheatley’s voice), and then the mouse does…nothing. Absolutely nothing. I kept thinking, the times that Nikolas got captured, that he would save him somehow. But he doesn’t. He’s cute, and he’s not annoying, but he doesn’t do anything. He just exists to be a cute animal sidekick.

That’s not the only thing in the movie that’s just there. When Nikolas is imprisoned in Elfhelm, there’s just… a troll, in the same room as him, which he doesn’t see until it’s pointed out to him? It’s never really referred to again. He escapes from guards in an elf schoolroom that just happens to have an escape shoot for some reason? The film’s full of stuff like this. 

There are also really traumatic and interesting parts of this character’s backstory that feel as if they’re not going anywhere. Yeah, tragic things happen, and I’m not saying that can’t be in a children’s movie. But I’m not sure how they inform the character, or how they lead to this kid becoming Santa Claus.

I realize that I’m overthinking a Christmas movie explicitly made for children; fine! So be it! That still means that there are other Christmas specials, older ones, that don’t have these problems in them. It makes this movie stick out more. It doesn’t feel like an original take on a Santa origin story, it feels like someone was trying to imitate them and came up with this. Again, this movie is fine, but it’s not one of the standout Christmas movies, and far from the most enjoyable movies about Santa Claus that you can find.

You won’t have a bad time, I think, but there are plenty of better Christmas movies you could pick up.

[theredheaded-stuff]

Headcanons : Trauma

Warning

Sensitive content for some people

Childhood trauma, trauma responses.

Damian when he came under Bruce guard I still had a lot of consequences from past traumas in the league, some of these traumas led to certain behaviors that I think would be:

Always having an answer on the tip of his tongue, because he always needed to explain himself.

Violent attack reaction to anyone who brought their hands close to vital areas of his body

Insecurities coming from insults to his culture and ethnicity, which he ended up hearing on missions

His insecurity got worse when he saw the looks of his brothers and father, or even when people at parties pointed out the differences in their appearance.

He doesn't cry often, since he always was always scolded when he did.

He also hides his emotions and desires out of fear of hurting others or simply giving his opinion.

His body, used to protecting itself, responds violently when it feels threatened or hurt.

Also because of being forced to train from a very young age, Damian's body releases adrenaline until the end, but when that passes the body collapses, Damian passes out with some frequency.

Damian's body is small for his age from poor diet when he was in the care of only Ra's or others in the league, as Talia needed to go out on missions even though she avoided it.

His voice is very low since is rarely used

dark rooms remind him of the room he had in the league, it gives him nightmares, So he has a lot of lights in his room, some have the shape of Christmas lights

has absolute terror of becoming like Ra's someday, and once lost his mind when someone compared him to Ra's, he had a panic attack.

He had to mature quickly, but even then there was something left of his childish way, sometimes this is awakened with anesthesia or when he is around animals.

Damian is constantly on guard around him, afraid of something that might happen.

He doubts himself sometimes, as some memories were forgotten by himself due to certain traumas.

He is terrified in some really small moments like when he hears a child crying, everyone thought it was hilarious, but over time they started to worry and they were left feeling guilty afterwards.

He knows very well how to hide injuries, as he would hide some from Talia when she returned from missions.

Phrases he may have said at some point:

Alert : Phrases that can seriously hurt below

After hearing children cry and others

"I told myself I wouldn't cry about it anymore..but does every little thing remind me of that?!"

"Everything is wrong with me, Everyone deserves someone better than..this"

"I had no choice! I had no choice right? I don't like to kill? answer me Dick"

"I'm just a big mistake...I know"

"I don't know how to fix this! I don't even know how to fix myself!"

"grandfather should be dead, he is dead! But...I can't stop seeing and everywhere, everytime I look in the mirror"

"please please please...just be a bad dream..please"

"I was..I spent all my childhood praying for someone anyone to take me away, no one ever came for me"

"I don't want do this anymore Father"

"can't I just rest a little? Just for some years...and mom can bring me back someday"

" I'm a strong person! I can beat that.. right?"

"Do you really hate me, Drake?"

"Was I not enough?"

" I didn't think that... Seriously RICHARD I DIDN'T THINK YOU WOULD HIT ME was a reflex Dick! No no don't look at me that way"

"Are you crying?"

"I'm sorry...I really sorry"

[cherrykindness]

wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Plots line and episode themes that would have improved Sons of Anarchy.

Against my better judgement, I'm re-watching Sons of Anarchy. I've come up with some things that I think would have been good to see; most of them are silly, childish, and unrealistic, but that show was in dire need of some lightness. These are in no particular order, and you are more than welcome to use these ideas for fanfiction (not that they're any good). I must stress that this is for fun, I know how ridiculous all of this sounds.

1. A "day in the life episode" where we follow everyone around for a day or two to see what life was really like.

2. A Halloween episode, trick or treat, decorating the clubhouse, and there's an urban legend that if you ride on Halloween night, you might see the grim reaper on the road. Everyone knows it, half the club is scared shitless, and the other half couldn't care less.

3. A Christmas episode, they have a gift exchange at church, Juice gets everyone a gift certificate to Clear Passages. Happy is secretly the best gift-giver, Gemma insists on spoiling her grandchildren, and Clay is a dick about it.

4. The kitty plotline, Happy, Tig or Kozik (they seem to be the animal lovers), find a neonatal (0-8 weeks) orphaned kitten and spend their day bottle feeding it; everyone takes turns looking after the kitten. They vote for their name, and they are allowed to up on to the church table (not without protest for Clay). One day the kitten falls asleep on the gavel, and no one has the heart to do anything

5. An episode that follows Able and Thomas. We get to see Jax be a father and actually do shit instead of leaving it to Tara and Gemma.

6. An episode that follows the Old Ladies.

7. A "there's a huge storm approaching" episode, where everyone bunkers down to prepare for the oncoming storm. There's at least one scene with thunder and lighting, Piney lets the kitten hide in his Kutt.

8. An episode where a bunch of pick-up artists got to the club thinking they could pick up women and are kicked out for being assholes.

9. A "save the bees" episode where Gemme guilts all the guys into helping out the community garden.

10. The prison plotline. Season 3 should have been a few episodes longer where we get to see the guys in prison and how the club is doing without them. We get more on Tara and Gemma, and there's an episode where Thomas is born.

11. Jax, Tara and the kids go to a shelter to adopt a cat (Charlie Hunnan is a cat person). Happy told Jax if he didn't go to a shelter, he would never forgive him.

12. We actually see the planning of the wedding in season 4. Gemma insists everything be a certain way.

13. An episode that shows the Croweaters (I hate that term) as people and not props.

14. A club party episode (similar to patch over) where we see everything from the planning to the cleanup.

15. A church episode, where most of the episode is set in the temple.

16. An episode where we get to see the guys doing their day jobs as mechanics, workplace inspectors come along, and Gemma death glares then into giving a good report.

17. A musical episode, lots of shows have done one, and the cast is full of excellent singers. Alternatively, someone buys a karaoke machine, and everyone tries it out.

18. In an ideal world, seasons 6-7 didn't happen, and there wasn't so much tragedy but saying that the last scene should have been Jax seeing Tara's spirit and them crossing into the afterlife together. I dislike her character, but Jax did love her, and I still refuse to watch the last half of season 7 because of the shit end, I just wanted a happy ending.

[moxfirefly]

Good afternoon, this has been in the works for a while now and I finally got around to finishing it and being pretty content of it (this is gonna go up on AO3 soon along with the others that aren’t request) but I wanted to post it here first. Enjoy!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

“Wish you were here right now

All of the things I'd do”

Gaming was always an escape.

From childhood to adulthood. There was some gaming equipment in your hands, controls, handhelds, keyboards and so on. There was just something calming about entering a fantasy world and immersing yourself in scenery and stories that made you stray from bad days and long nights.

For Donatello it was the same.

On one of his many supply scavenges Splinter had found a dumpster near a toy store that was going out of business. It was a memorable haul for them. What they expected to be routine things mixed with some type of groceries had turned into literal Christmas in July. Stuffed animals, board games, action figures and even a few gaming consoles with some cartridges and cd’s. Noticeably they were considered damaged or improperly manufactured, but they didn’t care and for Donnie he had spent a good week and a half fixing up the Nintendo and Play Station 2 consoles back into working conditions.

That alone had been plenty for him but nevertheless Mikey being so excited about playing wanted him to join him. They had played for hours and each disc or cartridge they tried out held a new story, a new set of controls to learn, new visuals and such. He was immediately hooked.

When he had gotten the first parts to start building a PC from scratch he knew there would be another world of possibilities for games.

Now gaming is a leisure for Donnie. Something he does for enjoyment and an escape when his projects become too much. The world of online gaming allowed him to also explore the possibilities of chatting with others though, the humans they were not allowed to see or speak to (with the exception of their Hogosha) but needless to say it wasn’t like Donnie broadcasted his identity and whereabouts. More so these people only came to game and speak game.

Donnie absolutely does detest the unnecessary sexism that gaming brings. Many a time he had read on chats or heard on his head set such derogatory comments thrown at female players. Never the one to stand such misogynistic behavior (he was raised better and had heard enough horror stories from April) he always shot that shit down quickly. Given his status as being far above his gaming peers he had developed respect and none of them ever shot back at him.

That’s how he runs into you.

On the opposing team nonetheless.

Once your female voice ran through the ears of the group he had been stuck in, the comments began to rain down. Some colorful, some lazy and some downright disgusting. Donnie had had enough and with some of his more illegal methods, had managed to push out the players in his party and send the audio recording to the email of the developers.

On exceptionally petty days he did far worse.

You had been stunned, wondering why the gang of immature boys had suddenly disappeared. Only one of them remained with the gamer tag specifying ‘Don_DuzMachines’ you couldn’t help but giggle at it.

You had asked if the sudden disappearance had been a weird glitch and if Don (as you assumed you should call him) had anything to do about it.

“Let’s just say I’ve got my ways” His soft voice rang through your headset.

“Well it’s hardly the first time I’ve had a gang of prepubescent boys tell me to suck their dicks” You started to move away in the map but stopped abruptly.

“Hey do you wanna play something else?” You asked tentatively. “Figured the least I can do is thank you” Donnie sat back pensively, well there was no harm in that now was there?

And so it started innocently.

Co-op games even the occasional match against one another. Each game you two always spoke through your headsets. Mostly banter about strategy or directions for who to do what or the occasional friendly jabs. You hadn’t revealed much that wasn’t the nickname you used as your gamer tag, and well Don had basically done the same.

That is until you decide to poke a little into his life. “You go to college?” You had asked, fingers gliding over the keyboard as you both partook in a raid. Donnie hadn’t expected such a question and he didn’t necessarily want to divulge much, he opted for a more ambiguous response. “I do my own studying, sort of like home schooling if you will?” Well he wasn’t wrong, Splinter had been both father and teacher to them, Donnie had just excelled more quickly and soon enough he was teaching his brothers on the academic side.

“You broke too, huh? Trust me it’s not worth the insane debt you’ll develop in six years that’ll take forty years to pay off” You chuckled with a hint of bitterness, Donnie couldn’t help but laugh and snort.

“That’s cute” You said sincerely. Donnie smiled, heat creeping up his neck.

How innocent things had been at the start.

For six months the two of you divulged little to no information. You never asked to video chat and Donnie never asked for your socials. It had just been a mutual agreement to keep the mystery that just wasn’t verbalized. Maybe it was for the better, because surely what had began as a gaming buddies situation had escalated to, well Donnie couldn’t really explain.

The first instance the two of you had been stuck on a map solving intricate puzzles. It was one of the more relaxed games the two of your partook in together when you didn’t want to deal with other players in a lobby.

“Dating apps are a nightmare, they’re only worth it for getting dumb funny stories” You had been playing but also checking some of the matches you’ve gotten on a site. Donnie swallowed, why did that settle so oddly in his stomach?

“Well any funny ones you’d like to share?” Don asked curiously hoping he wasn’t over stepping any boundaries. “One guy wanted me to cover my feet in marmalade, I really almost hit fuck it and did it” You couldn’t help but smile when Don choked, coughed and bursted out laughing.

“What kink is that even related to? I mean I know people enjoy feet but marmalade?” He was bewildered. “Come on Don don’t kink shame the poor guy, who are you to police his eclectic culinary desires?” Now the two of you couldn’t help but burst into another fit of laughter. Both your avatars were idle standing, the game somewhat abandoned in favor for the conversation.

“Hey I’m not kink shaming, we all have our weird kinks” Donnie smiled sitting back on his swivel chair. You clicked out of the dating site, chin resting on your hand. “Are we finally having this conversation? Cause I love this shit, it’s my bread and butter” You sat back in your gaming chair, tucking your knees.

Donnie felt so shy but the barrier of mistery the two of you had built urged him on. He was curious, like stupid curious what you looked like and while he had everything to figure out exactly where you were, it wasn’t morally correct for him. So why not just indulge in the conversation?

“Well it’s not feet, sorry to disappoint” He heard you laugh, an infectious sound he had grown to enjoy so much. “Feet are so passé anyways, what about bondage?” You spun slowly in your chair, the sounds of Don adjusting and clicking on the keyboard ringing in your ears.

“Bondage is a go, especially sensory deprivation” He was checking some documents April had forwarded to him in regards to a case they were dealing with, but he could multitask. You made an approving noise, nodding while taking a sip of your drink. “Into that D/s stuff?” You asked wanting to see what else he might like.

“Well yeah, but I do enjoy more um... Fem Dom stuff” He finished up the email he wrote out for April and hit send. “A man with taste, not something we get often” You chuckled but decided to add. “I wouldn’t mind having a guy submit to me” You bit the inside of your cheek a little shy suddenly.

Something about that statement made heat spread south for Donnie. The concept of being dominated? By a woman? He peaked a look behind him, pushing one side of his headset down to hear what his brothers might be up to but he heard only music and chatting voices.

“What’s your favorite thing?” He inquired almost too softly.

“Erotic ASMR” There was no trace of embarrassment in your voice and that somehow made Donnie hot.

“Maybe we frequent the same sites for that” Don boldly threw out. You made an approving face before sitting forward and typing on your keyboard. A beat or two later Donnie saw an email notification from you on one of his many burner emails. He opened it finding links to audios from various sites all catered to erotic audios. Donnie whistled, this was a gold mine and true to his predictions you did indeed have some of his favorite sites to peruse.

“It’s not just male audios by the way, there’s women too” You sat back once again, nervously playing with your hair. “Thanks... Well I do like hearing both” Donnie confessed, voice avoiding a stutter.

You grinned. Oh he was even more fun that you could’ve expected.

Curiously enough that had been the tamest experience into yours and Donnie’s sex talks. Because it hadn’t really stopped at that, they progressively escalated little by little. Fave kinks had turned to fave sites, fave sites had turned into fave videos. Donnie never pictured he’d share his hidden folder with a stranger no less.

You nor Donnie could really say how the two of you had ended up one late night, with yet another abandoned game, talking about weird but satisfying cyber sex experiences. Some of your stories had been on the more comical side but a few had riled Donnie up to the point that he couldn’t ignore it. There was a shift in your voice as well, an allure that enticed him.

“Can I be honest?” You licked your suddenly dry lips. Donnie tensed momentarily, not sure what to expect. “Of course, please” You squeezed your thighs together, ‘please’ shouldn’t sound so good coming out of his mouth. You trace lazy circles on your thighs, something pushed you. “I’m kinda turned on by this...by talking to you about all this stuff” Maybe this was overstepping it, surely there was nothing wrong between two adult friends discussing such matters.

There was no need to tell Don that you had yearned to put a face to the name. But his hesitance spoke of insecurities and you could understand that.

“I am too...” Donnie looked up at what he called a ceiling in his home, the darkness of the sewer system and concrete. He’d never have a chance with you, it was a deeply rooted desire for intimacy and if virtually he could obtain it then so be it.

For all your boldness you felt a wave of bashfulness hit, crashed around your self confidence. Then Donnie steps up and you feel your toes curl in excitement. “Do you want to have a better experience?” Donnie runs both hands down his face, who was he to provide better experiences, he’d never even physically had a partner. The slow sigh that escapes your throat is comforting static in his headset. “Yeah, yeah I really do actually” You feel a smile etch itself on your lips.

“You can call me Donnie” It’s the closest to his name, and truthfully he really wants to hear you say it.

“Y/N,” You say to which Donnie makes an approving noise, he finds your name to be pretty. He rolls it in his mouth, testing the syllables, he can envision moaning it, well he wants to moan it if he can be completely honest. He wants to put a face to that name but he quickly pushes the thought out. There’s a pregnant pause where neither of you engage or make the first attempt. Not wanting to let this mood flee, Donnie swallows and closes his eyes. The hum of the abandoned game grounding him.

“Say my name again” It’s not a forceful demand, all the contrary he wants to hear the pitch in your voice when you say it, he wants to picture how each tone would variate depending on what he would do or say. “Donnie...” You smile to yourself when you say it, a hint of desire nestled in it and Don notices that and wants more of it.

There’s a lengthy sigh from your behalf, hands wandering up your thighs towards your chest. “I’d like to be there right now, would like to say it against your lips” Your bold confessions makes Donnie’s pulse quicken. He runs a ghosting touch up his plastron, the vision of a delicate hand doing it. The imaginary weight of you on his lap grinding down on his hard member. Donnie grips himself through his shorts a soft groan escaping his parted lips.

“Want you to kiss me” He swallows dryly, the approving noise you make pushing him forward. “Feel your lips all over, feel your mouth around me...” He lifts his hips, hand cupping himself and the small hitch in your breath is a sound he wants permanently recorded in his brain.

“God are you big? I bet you are” You kneed your breast, thumb and forefinger pinching the sensitive nubs until they’re perked. Donnie smirks to himself, freeing his aching member and looking down at himself. Mutant genes aside he feels somewhat shamefully proud of his cock, he wonders if you would like it... deeply buried within you. “Yeah I am, I think you can take it something tells me” You catch that teasing tone and the urge to swallow him whole and make him see stars is too much.

Your hand finds its way into your underwear, the warm wetness making you moan as you tease your middle finger between the lips to find your sensitive nub there. You bite back another lengthy moan but recover enough to breathlessly say, “oh fuck, Donnie” and that very sound makes him shiver. Never did he think he’d hear something so temptingly good, said with such sincerity. God the things he would do to smell your arousal right now, to taste the wetness. “Push two fingers in slowly” Donnie almost pleas, his voice shakey, hand pumping his cock at a steady pace. You do as he wishes, your gutted moan making more precum gather at the tip of his member.

“God-shit- you sound so good, wish you were riding my big dick right now” He wants to chastise himself for saying something like that, but he can’t deny that statement shakes something in you. He can hear it, the sound of your fingers mixed with a continuously rising string of moans. “Ohmygod” Words tumble out strewn together by your pleasure. “Donnie please, please fuck me harder” That alone makes him sit up and push forwards, one hand on his desk as the other works himself up in upward twisting strokes.

Donnie can’t erase the idea of slamming into you right here on his desk, maybe bent over, maybe you’ll let him cum on your face...

He pushes the idea away, he can’t envision your face now, not right now, not when your moans have you sounding this deliciously in need. You’re plunging two fingers into your core as your free hand runs firm circles around your clit. “Christ Donnie you sound so good baby” You moan, perspiration covering your body and Donnie can only groan his approval.

There’s a few minutes where it’s just the two of you lost in your own pleasure together. The constant chants of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and ‘yes’ mixed between the two of you. “Say it... again” Donnie groans out, hand quickening, briefly gathering some saliva and letting it fall on his hard member for better traction. “Don-oh, Donnie cum in me!” You’re so far gone, not caring what comes out of your mouth. The wet sounds in your head set and a vibration you figured could be static mixed with his groans was all you heard.

Donnie’s hips twitch, feels that request swim inside of his brain and the image of burying himself as deeply as you could take is all he needs. Just as your moans rise in crescendo he feels the first twitch and relief of his orgasm overtake him. He’s never felt it hit him this hard it knocks the wind out of him, each rope shooting out onto his hand and floor. In his minds eye though, it’s your suffocating heat taking it, milking him until he’s a shivering mess. It plays perfectly like a movie, he swears he can even feel your lips at his neck and arms holding him tight.

Your sounds are enough to keep him stroking, the way your voice pitched up with the sound of his name entwined, forever recorded in his brain. Your entire body tensed to the point of uncomfortable but it was impossible to stop abruptly when he sounded so lost in you. Your leg shakes and stiffens and it takes every inch of control to not become liquid and slip away into comforting bliss.

Eventually the sounds of heavy breathing slowly but surely settling are the only things the two of you can hear in your ears. There’s a mess, for you and for him. The understanding of things transpired crossing each of you two’s brains. Should you speak first? Should he?

“Um, you with me?” You settle, skin sweaty and mouth dry. There’s movement on the other line, a quiet cuss here and there and you smile. “Yeah, sorry just... made a mess” His voice has that sheepish tone and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Great thing about being a girl, we can conceal the evidence better” You stretch your aching legs enjoying each joint pop. “The female anatomy never seizes to amaze me, trust me” Donnie leans back in his chair, napkin cleaning any other soiled spot.

The silence was somewhat comfortable, the buzzing of good chemicals slowly settling.

“Was this okay?” He asked, hesitant tone in your ears.

“More than okay if you ask me” You kept it light not wanting him to feel odd or even ashamed.

You ventured on slowly, forming the question in your brain and bouncing it back and forward with a swallow. “If, and I mean if you want to, we can maybe do this from time to time” You worried a thumbnail between your teeth. Donnie’s gaze watching the idle screen of the abandoned game, he thought hard but briefly.

“I... yeah I would” He smiles to himself, even if the nagging thought that this might not last clutches the back of his mind. Why ruin a good thing? This was good more than good and you suggested to continue.

He doesn’t want to preoccupy his brain with scenarios, or if that dreaded ‘let’s meet’ sentence decides to cross your lips. If this is the inch of intimacy he gets to have and it’s with you, who he has grown so fond of, then he’s selfishly taking that inch and guarding it with his life.

Mutely you both remain on the line, no words spoken from the agreement, just simply enjoying that the two of you were present.

Even if not physically.

[miekasa]

pls do dad!armin hc I’M BEGGING YOU <3

Fine. FINE. Just this once... since it’s father’s day or whatever but this is the last one I swear 🙄🙄

He was very nervous to find out you were having a kid, but it turns out all of that was for nothing because he’s pretty good with them.

Still, Armin wouldn’t want too many kids—he would love all the ones you guys do have, but he doesn’t want a family as large as Jean’s or anything.

So you have one daughter and she is the center of his entire world. Nevermind the fact that even as an infant she clearly is a mommy’s girl, Armin still loves her with his whole heart, he’d give up anything for her.

She’s a pretty quiet kid, even as a baby. Not a lot of screaming or crying or kicking or whining—just a lot of sleeping. She’s almost scarily quiet... to the point where a few weeks after taking her home, Armin took her right back to the hospital because he was worried something might have been wrong with her hearing

A valid concern, but you admit it was a little funny seeing him fuss around and essentially try to cause a crying fit. Most other parents would kill to have a kid this quiet, and here was Armin snapping in your baby girls face trying to startle her.

Turns out nothing was wrong, the doctors (several, Armin wanted to be sure) assured you that her hearing was fine; she’s just a tired little bundle of joy. It’s gives Armin a lot of relief to know she’s perfectly healthy, but it does freak him out a little when he picks her up and she falls asleep within the next two minutes.

She does not get Armin’s blonde hair and he’s not upset about it. He’s not, really. Ask him, he’s perfectly fine with it. Not even a little bothered because he knows blonde is recessive. He gets it. Totally. Not bitter.

Truthfully, she looks... almost nothing like him at all, she’s all you, save for the shape of Armin’s eyes and his button nose; but just about everything else she gets from her mom. At first glance, you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was Armin’s kid.

Do you know how exhausted and bitter he is when he picks her up from school or whatever after school activities she has and they ask him for ID every single time 😭😭

She acts like him though, and as she gets older, it’s apparent she’s got his mind and curiosity and quite frankly, his ability to manipulate the two of you into getting her just about anything she wants.

Armin loves hanging out with her as she gets older, and he’s a pro with homework help, though she turns out to not need much help. She just pretends to because she likes spending time with Armin and counting dinosaurs with him.

Matching family pajamas for every holiday occasion: Christmas, Easter, New Year’s, St. Patrick’s day, hell even your birthdays. You all have matching pajamas and Armin loves it.

When she’s a baby, one of the first things Armin buys for her is a little plushy/stuffed animal, and you better believe it stays by her side through thick and thin. She’s very careful with it, even at five years old—she would never take it anywhere where it could potentially get dirty, and she keeps it in tip top shape. It’s her most prized possession.

At around that age for father’s day, she gets Armin a miniature/keychain version of the same plushy and he literally cries himself to sleep thinking about it it’s the cutest thing anybody has ever done for him. He wears it around with pride, happily telling people the lore of tiny stuffed animal hanging from his keys whenever they point it out.

Around that age is also when Armin realizes that maybe... maybe one more kid wouldn’t be too terrible. He grew up and only child and, yeah, he had Eren and Mikasa, but he always did wish he had a sibling...

You saw how your daughter turned out, so you don’t know why Armin is still sighs deeply when your son comes along and he also looks nothing like him 😭😭

He’s almost tempted to keep having kids until one of them at least resembles him a little bit. According to punnet squares if you had four at least one of them should look something like him right...

Unlike your daughter, your son cries for everything, and honestly, his older sister is the only one who can calm him down; virtually nothing you or Armin do can quiet him, but when his sister holds him, all is well in his world.

Armin feels kinda guilty using her as a baby-quieting machine but what else can you two do. Sometimes she just walks into your room while you and Armin are (unsuccessfully) trying to calm the crying baby, and she just sighs. Hops up on the bed, sits criss-cross in between you and Armin, and pokes her little brother’s cheek, “You’re being a crybaby.” And like magic, he starts to settle down.

(“This is probably not what they meant by gifted kid, but I swear she has a gift.”)

When that doesn’t happen tho, or the crying fit happens in the middle of the night, you can usually wake up to Armin curled up inside the baby’s crib, with your son on his chest, and Armin’s hands holding him close.

Armin spends a lot of time picking out their baby/booster seats and is 100% looking up and comparing the reliability of different brands. That goes for most things tho, from strollers to bibs, he’s done a thorough check on everything.

Obviously loves beach days with the kids, even if all your son can do is sit and splash his little baby hands around. Armin thinks it’s precious and he loves holding him up and dipping his little feet into the water.

His favorite thing tho is lining everyone up to leave footprints in the sand. He always takes a picture and keeps it as his homescreen.

Mikasa is the more trusted babysitter, but whether you two like or not, Eren is the favorite. There’s just something about him the kids like. Eren doesn’t have the same talent as your daughter, but even he can quiet down the crying toddler quicker than you can. (“They just recognize greatness.” “It’s just because you’re tall and your hand is big, shutup Eren.”)

They also really like Sasha, especially your daughter, and she very loudly proclaims that Mikasa and Sasha are her role models.

Blushes very easily whenever his kids poke at or kiss his cheeks. The one picture you have him and your daughter on Armin’s birthday with her hands around his neck giving him a kiss as he blows out his candles is one of his favorites.

He tries to become a better cook, but it doesn’t work out, so he leaves that you. What he does get good at is bath time and doing hair. Braids, twists, ponytails, headbands, bows, the whole show, he becomes a pro.

He’s a fucking wreck when you send them off to school/daycare for the first time. He made fun of Eren for not being able to make it through one work day after his paternity leave was up, but Armin is hardly any better. He doesn’t end up staying at home like Eren, but it is a big adjustment for him, and he can’t say he enjoys leaving them at all. 

When your daughter learns how to read, it’s her that reads bedtime stories to him. And Armin sits there and listens like she’s the greatest storyteller in the world and always applauds her for her reading skills. 

For whatever reason, one of the few things your son likes to fall asleep to is the sound of Armin typing on his computer, so he beings to use it to his advantage; he saves just a bit of work to do from home in the evenings, and conveniently does it all right before bedtime. 

Speaking of which everyone, yourself included, gets a little kiss on the forehead before bed. Two on your birthdays. 

[afeb]

Draco Malfoy - Ravishing

I walked out the Yule Ball early, a sickening feeling growing in my stomach as couples began to slow dance. It simply reminded I’d come here solo off the back of Hermiones advice: fat lot of good that was.

I wandered the empty halls of the castle, taking my heels off and walking bare foot. I watched as Draco, also alone, turned the corner ahead of me. I decided to follow him, having nothing better to do. I turned the same corner and frowned as he seemed to have disappeared.

“Follow me, Y/L/N?” I jumped as I peered behind a large black curtain, seeing Draco sat on a stone bench by himself.

I moved to sit across from him. “Better than being at that ball.” I sighed. “Where’s Pan?”

He shrugged. “Went off with some Slytherin.” He bitterly said. “Where was your date?”

“Didn’t have one.”

He scoffed and smirked. “Really?”

I frowned and folded my arms. “What’s so funny about that?”

He raised his hands. “Not funny, I’m just surprised.” He defended.

“Oh...” I sighed. “Well, thanks I guess.”

He leant back a little as his eyes trailed over me. “So what’s your ancestry?” He asked.

I frowned. “Why does that matter?”

He shrugged. “Just wondering.” He drawled out, when I didn’t reply he asked again.

“Just...witches and wizards, like everyone else.” I vaguely replied.

“So no muggles?” I shook my head. “So you’re a pure-blood?”

I scrunched my nose. “Don’t use that word.”

“What, muggles?” He smirked.

“No.” I snapped. “The P-Word.”

“Pure-blood.” He said loudly. I simply glared at him. “You know, you and I should really stick together.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“There aren’t many pure-blood families around anymore, everyone these days has some muggle in them.” He bitterly said. “How come I never knew? My family knows all pure-bloods.”

I stood and went to leave, finished with this conversation but Draco followed me. “My family aren’t like yours, we aren’t proud of our heritage.” I shortly said, heading towards the Ravenclaw home room.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets. “They should be.” He said. “So you keep it a secret then?”

“As best I can.” I said as we stood outside the Ravenclaw painting.

He gazed at the portrait. “You’re not in Slytherin?” He asked.

I scoffed. “God no.”

He looked mildly offended before a smirked graced his face. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then.” He leant a little closer. “You look ravishing tonight by the way.”

Before I could respond Draco turned and cockily strolled away.

***

“I’m home!” I called into the house as I dumped my suitcase on the floor. “Hello?”

I walked into the kitchen where my mother and father were deep in conversation. “Ah, just the girl I wanted to see.” My father smiled as he enveloped me in a hug.

I chuckled and squeezed him tight. “What were you guys talking about?” I asked as I hugged my mother.

“This.” She handed me a letter.

Dear the Y/L/N Family,

You are cordially invited to the Malfoy Mannor for lunch on the 20th of December.

Please RSVP before attending.

Yours sincerely,

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

I frowned down at it. “Well obviously we aren’t going.” My mother and father shared a look. “You aren’t seriously thinking about going.”

My mother stood by my side. “Your father seems to think he can convert them to our way.” She sighed. “I don’t.”

My father looked at both of us. “Look, we made a decision to incorporate the muggles way into our life, we said Y/N could see muggles if she wished. If our family can do it, maybe they can too.”

“Do you know anything about the Malfoys?” I asked. “They’re vile people.”

My father looked sternly at us both. “We’re going, end of.”

Both mine and my mothers mouths dropped. “I’m not being nice.” I said.

My father smiled and kissed my forehead. “I don’t want you to be.” He smirked before leaving the room.

***

Our carriage pulled up to the Malfoy Mannor, the family patiently stood on their doorstep. I rolled my eyes and looked over at my mother, who was doing exactly the same thing.

“If for nothing else, enjoy the food.” My father winced before opening the door and helping us out.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” Lucius opened his arms. “A pleasure to meet you!”

“And you.” My father curtly said.

They shook hands before the attention turned to my mother and I. “Are these beautiful ladies with you?” I wanted to gag.

“Yes, this is my wife, Y/M/N, and this is my daughter, Y/N.” I didn’t take the hand that was offered to me.

“Pleasure.” I shorty said, my eyes flicking to Draco as he held back a smirk.

“Please, come in.”

You wouldn’t believe Christmas was in five days. The house was dark and cold, no decorations what so ever apart from a feeble Christmas tree in their large living room. It was far too big and grandiose, it was cocky.

We were all soon seated around the table, an excessive amount of food laid out on the table. The servants placed napkins on our laps.

“Thank you.” I smiled brightly at the older lady.

“We don’t thank the help.” Lucius politely said.

“I do.” I innocently smiled back.

I saw Lucius fists ball for a second before he tightly smiled. I didn’t have too much food, more so pushed it around my plate to appear as though I was eating. My father and Lucius spoke about everything from politics to Hogwarts. Nacissa attempted to speak to my mother, but much like me my mother either ignored her or didn’t make an effort in the conversation.

Thankfully Draco didn’t speak to me, simply stared into space. “Draco,” his father said. “Why don’t you show the lovely Y/N around our house whilst we discuss other matters.”

“Yes father.” Draco said before standing, beckoning me after him.

I looked towards my mother who smiled encouraging, her eyes telling me to convince Draco of our ways. My father smiled brightly as I left the room, Draco leaning against the wall in the hallway. He perked up when he saw me.

“The lovely Y/N.” He mocked, offering me his elbow to hold.

I slapped him away. “Get on with it then.” I grumbled.

We didn’t speak as we wandered the house, ending up in the library upstairs. I gazed around the books as Draco watched me closely.

“You like reading?” He asked.

“Oh yes,” I sighed. “I love books. Any type, it doesn’t matter to me.” I turned to smile at him.

He stood and approached me, I grew a little uncomfortable as he reached over from behind me, his chest brushing my back. “This is my favourite.”

He pulled a small book from the shelf. “Tales of Beedle and the Bard.” I smiled. “My mother always read this to me.”

Draco smiled down at me. “I had a Nanny growing up and she always read me stories.”

We gazed at each other for a moment. “No muggle books, I see.” I noted, stepping away and looking out the window.

Draco scoffed. “Why an earth would we have those?”

I shrugged. “Some of them are good.” I defended, opening the small book in my hand and reading over it. “There’s an author called Terry Pratchet and he comes up with the most amazing stor-“

“I don’t care.” Draco snapped. “Whatever it is, it’s terrible. Everything they do is terrible.”

“And everything you do is so great?” I snapped, slamming the book down.

“All those muggles do is start wars and mate, they’re hardly intelligent creatures.” He sneered as he stepped towards me.

I scoffed. “What about the war You-Know-Who is starting, and how do you think you were born?”

He peered down at me. “At least our mating is clean and right, they’re just like animals.”

Our faces were close together. “I’d happily mate with them.”

Suddenly Draco grabbed my jaw and pressed me against the tall window. “Don’t say that.” He snapped. “Someone as pure as you shouldn’t even consider mating with such filth.”

My small hand tried to pry him away, but he was too strong. “Why does that bother you? Hm?” I glared.

His eyes flicked down to my lips. “Because I want to fuck you.”

Before I could utter a word his lips were harshly pressed to mine, body rubbing against me. I attempted to push him away but Draco stayed put. He was good, too good. I slowly ran my hands through his hair, his evil smirk forming against my lips.

“Knew you wanted me.” He jeered, lips pressing down my neck. “You’ve always wanted me.”

I gasped as he bit my neck, sucking the sensitive flesh. “Draco.” I breathed out, rolling my hips up against his.

“Want it, little girl?” He taunted. He quickly spun me around, hand immediately palming my behind. “You can have it.”

His hands went to the hem of my skirt, pulling it up and over my ass and groaning as he saw my green underwear. “Like you knew I was going to fuck you.” He sighed before moving my underwear to the side and sinking his fingers into me. “So wet.”

I moaned deeply and pawed behind me, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. His fingers came to my mouth as I tasted myself from him. “Taste that? So sweet I could drizzle you on my breakfast.” Draco breathed.

He quickly pulled himself out, easing his tip into me before harshly grabbing my hips and thrusting into me. “You always wanted this, didn’t you?” He moaned into my ear. “Wanted my cum inside you, no one else’s.”

“Yes.” I agreed, throwing my head back against his shoulder as he kissed over my neck.

“No muggle could make you feel this good.” He promised. “No muggle could make you cum on his cock the way I do.”

“No, only you.” I agreed, my hand gripping his hair tightly as he moaned again.

“Fuck, I wanna see you filled with my cum.” He confessed. “I wanna see you carrying my child, knowing that it was my clean cum that got you pregnant.”

“Ah, fuck!” I wailed out, jumping as his hand came to cover my mouth.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Your daddy has high hopes of you fucking some muggle, how disappointed he’d be knowing his little girl is getting pregnant from me.” He sneered.

I moaned into his hand. His arm circled around and began to rub small but harsh circles into my clit, groaning as I clenched around him. “You gonna come, Sweet Thing?”

I nodded frantically. “Good, cum for me.” My moans were muffled by his hand as I clamped around him, my pussy spasming as he forced an orgasm from me.

His hand dropped from my mouth as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body flush against his. “Cum inside me.” I whined out. “Please.”

“Fucking hell, gonna paint your womb with my cum.” He promised as his hips stilled and hot ropes of cum came inside me. “Fuck.” He leant against me, kissing over my cheek and neck.

He pulled out, watching as the cum leaked from me. He sighed and pulled my skirt down, turning me around. His hand softly cupped my face as he leant in and sweetly kissed me.

“Don’t clean yourself up,” he smirked. “I want to know you’re walking around with my cum inside you.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “We should get back.”

His hand gripped mine as he led the way back to the dining room, letting go of me once he heard our fathers yelling at each other. We entered the room and my mother quickly pulled me away from Draco.

“Y/N, thank god, we’re leaving.” She spat at Narcissa.

“And another thing, language like mudblood and pure-blood are so outed it’s laughable!” My father yelled.

“At least I don’t want my off-spring mating with dirty genes.” Lucius snapped.

“The only dirty genes are yours.” My father retorted. “Thank you for dinner, the chicken was overcooked.”

My father grabbed mine and my mother’s hand, pulling us past Draco who simply smirked and winked at me.

Once in the carriage my father ranted and raved about the idiocy he’d just been in the presence of, my mother quickly making her distain for them known.

“What about the boy?” My father asked. “Was he any better?”

I shook my head. “Baffoon.” I said.

That wasn’t totally true.

[peter-parcoeur]

Good girl gone bad | (frat!tom)

request: How about frat cocky Tom at a Christmas party, wearing something that shows off his muscles, and he keeps flirting with y/n, who hates him. Throughout the night, he slowly wins her over, and once he has her in the palm of his hand, he makes her compliment him and then worship his muscles and then get on her knees and suck on him through his boxer briefs and then finally he f*cks her face and he's dirty talking and boasting all the way through :)

disclaimer: Hiii, so this was a request (sadly anonymous but if you’re out there reading this, I hope you enjoy and this lives up to your expectations...) this is my first attempt at fratboy!tom so I apologize in advance if that’s not exactly what you expected from it or whatever. Also I’m french so, some unfortunate spelling mistakes may occur and for this I apologize too! (damn I do really know how to sell myself, don’t I?) Anyway, enjoy your reading and please give it a ♥ if you liked it and a comment if you either really liked or hated it. Annnnd I’m talking too much.

warnings: smut smut smutty smut is to be expected, obviously. includes: brat!tom, braggy!tom, boasting!tom and some serious potty mouth / enemies to lovers (well, more like enemies to fuckbuddies idk) / oral-sex / face-fuck / dirtyDIRTY talk/ fingering / brief mentions of self luuuuvin (that’s masturbation, for you) / dom!tom + sub!reader / I guess a little bit of humiliation and praise kink idk if that’s triggering so just in case... / roughness... I guess that’s it? probably enough already.

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« Come on, it’ll be fun! God knows you could really use some fun… » your friend’s voice almost begged over the phone as you safely locked it between your cheek and your shoulder to open the door to your dorm room, your keyrings grazing the piece of metal surrounding the lock with a soft, clicking noise.

“Yeah cause hanging out with complete morons as they get shit-faced on cheap vodka is totally my idea of a good night...”

“ Urghhhh, Y/N please, are you really gonna be a Grinch about it?”

“  Well, it’s a Christmas party so I guess that’s convenient?”

You could tell your friend was getting frustrated by now, the slight change of tone in her voice making her sound desperate. Kicking off your shoes and dropping your books above the mess on your desk, you immediately crashed onto your bed with a loud, exhausted groan as this never-ending day had managed to push every single one of your buttons. You felt completely drained and yet, your best-friend wanted you to join her to some frat-house where, apparently, the “most incredible” Christmas party was about to be held? Uh-uh. No way. Your actual plan for a Friday night (= eating take-out food in front of some true crime documentary on Netflix) seemed much more appealing than the effort your friend seemed to require from you.

“You’re really gonna bail on me? What if something happens to me?”

“Now this is guilt pressure and you’re so much better than this! “ You laughed, “plus… I know you wanna go just so you can make out with Harrison… You really don’t need me for this and truth be told, I really don’t need to see that guy shove his tongue down your throat!”

“Maybe YOU need someone to shove his tongue down your throat “

“I’ll pass, thanks “

“Come on, how long has it been since you’ve got laid? “

“That’s… way beside the point?””

Still, you thought about it.

How long has it been, really?

Well. As far as you could remember, there were a couple (disastrous) tinder dates at the beginning of the semester. Nothing major even though the sex was still okay. Then you had decided to delete the app so you could focus on your studies, thinking that, eventually, life would grant you with an actual IRL, cute boy who could actually work a little harder to get into your pants whereas it had taken a single swipe on a screen for the previous contestants.

But for now, as the semester had come to an end and Christmas break was around the corner, it only occurred to you just how busy you had been, studying all night long and running on fumes and gallons of coffee. Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you truly needed to blow off some steam. Sometimes you wished you were more like her, carefree and less picky when it came to boys and random flings. Like her current crush, Harrison.

Harrison was a typical heartthrob with the face of a Greek God, so it was only natural for him to act like a brat and play with girls as he wished. With his piercing blue eyes and dreamy smile, girls could only wish he would look at them twice. But still, he wasn’t the worst part of Team Jackass, as you liked to call them. Their captain was actually Tom Holland. Football Quarterback, Tom collected girls’ hearts like trophies and held his pride within his questionable reputation. Party animal, heavy drinker and confirmed exhibitionist since he’d been caught fucking a cheerleader in the middle of the football field right after a game, his name was on everyone’s lips, whether they whispered gossips down the faculty’s corridor or muffled into a pillow as he dived into another naïve, besotted girl with the promise of an encore. To this day, all of the girls he had laid his eyes on were still waiting for a call-back.

You pulled a disgusted face at the thought of witnessing his little hunting game one more time. Tom was actually one of the main reasons why you usually skipped any frat party now. There were just so much time you could waste, sipping on some funky tasting “home-made” punch as “Football superstar” Tom Holland bragged about his athletic skills or how many girls he had fucked over the last couple days. Sometimes, it felt like a competition between him and his brain-dead friends. Somehow, you just knew he kept score of his one-night stands. Maybe he’d give you five stars for trying anal, a deep throat would give you another six and god forbid if you flattered his enormous, gigantic cock, well then, by all means, the throne would be yours. There was just something about him that screamed and irradiated praise kink.

“Y/N? Have I lost you?”

Your friend’s voice brought you back to reality as you seemed to have blacked out for a while.

Then, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, the words came out of your mouth.

“What time is the party then?”

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For every party, there’s a dress code.

Surely, a “Christmas” party just couldn’t be, without a fair splash of colorful jumpers or any subtle hints at Santa Clause as an excuse for a last-minute theme. Still, standing in front of what could only be Wednesday Addams’ wardrobe, you were suddenly hit by your lack of interest for any piece of clothes that wasn’t a shade between black and white. Was beige even a color anyway?

For a brief second, you considered wearing your infamous Christmas onesie, basically a fluffy one piece with a zipper, an oversized hood and covered with snowflakes and candy canes. The jokes would never end but no one could blame you for being ‘off theme’, then.

In the end, you settled for a rare “colorful” top which, luckily, happened to be whatever shade of green Christmas trees actually were. It was also skin tight and you knew for a fact it made your chest looks twice its size because of the way the velvet fabric enhanced your waistline. It was nowhere near provocative with its long sleeves and turtle-neck so you figured you could be a little bit more risky with the bottom part of your outfit, grabbing the black mini-skirt you’d bought a week before on a splurge, even though you didn’t know if you’d ever find the confidence to pull it off. It was short, there was no denying that as you turned around in the shop’s fitting room to catch a glimpse at your backside, knowing your whole ass would be exposed if you ever dared to bend down even so slightly.

Still, you felt sexy in it and as a girl who happily traded a sexy dress for yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, any piece of clothes that made you feel good about yourself was an instant buy.

Looking down at your final outfit as it laid down on your bed, a pair of nice ankle boots at the bottom of it, you patted yourself on the back for making the extra effort and walked to the bathroom for a well-deserved boiling shower.  Staring at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, you sighed to yourself as the aftermath of a sleep deprived week and lack of skin care routine or basic maintenance whatsoever hit you like a truck on the highway. Your hair had been wrapped into the same messy bun for days and it would definitely take some professional skills to cover up the bags under your eyes.

Maybe this party was the wake-up call you needed, the equivalent of a Judging look from your mother every time you visited her after a while. You could almost hear her complain about how unhealthy you looked and how you should wear more “flattering” clothes. Ironically, you also knew she would never approve the skirt you intended to wear that night. You remembered just too well that frown she’d given you at your father’s 60th birthday and how you had to gulp an entire bottle of red wine to forget about the fact the woman who gave birth to you had called you a prostitute for wearing a dress above the knees. Sometimes it’d be like that. Family gathering were like a plague, somehow, you just couldn’t escape it and it would either scar you for life or make you wish you were dead.

As you entered the cubicle, the coldness of the tiles hit you, covering your skin with goosebumps and sending shivers down your spine. It took you a couple minutes to adjust as you waited for the water to turn hot enough to coat the mirror with a thick foggy layer. Only then did you relax, letting go of this week’s emotionally charged weight upon your shoulders and focusing on yourself, at last.

It was a fairly long shower as you decided to go through your entire haircare routine instead of a brief, one minute shampoo. Not to mention the fact you also had to shave entirely as it felt like it would be a good way to get rid of this nightmare of a semester, like stepping out of your old skin and into a new one. Usually, body hair was probably too far down the list of your preoccupations to even be noticed but you figured, as you felt surprisingly motivated, now was the right time to make your body smooth as a baby. You actually loved the feeling of a soft, freshly shaved skin.

As you rinsed off the soap, your hands fondling the body parts water failed to reach, your mind unexpectedly wandered through some steamy thoughts as soon as your fingertips grazed your slit, taking some shy dip between your folds. It was no surprise that a simple, barely there stroke would instantly strike your arousal, after all, it had been a while. You shamelessly admitted that your studies had taken over your life, up to the point you’d even find yourself too exhausted for some self-love. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, the small collection of adult toys you owned were probably collecting dust in the middle of your socks and panties, wondering when they’d get to take a swim and make you squirm into your sheets as you hold on to the headboard, biting your lip until it turns white so you don’t scream through climax.

What struck you the most was the fact TomfuckingHolland came to your mind the very second your middle finger met your clit, circling it softly as you felt electricity spark through your legs, making it jolt. Why the hell was his stupid smug splattered all over your unspeakable thoughts when he was, by far, the last man on Earth you’d let come close to your naked self? Let alone in a shower cubicle the size of a shoe-box where you’d have no space whatsoever to escape his heavy, muscular chest.

His body looked ridiculously built for a man with the face of a 13 year-old. Sometimes you’d catch him randomly flex throughout the day, showing off his enormous biceps to anyone willing to praise his impeccable shape. There would be no room for these guns in there, you thought as a brief image of these massive arms shielding you from both side, fists tight against the tiles, came immediately to your mind. What took you by surprise wasn’t to actually picture Tom standing in there with you, naked and definitely willing to make that room a lot steamier, but the fact you slipped a finger into your surprisingly dripping core as soon as you imagined him stepping closer so your bare, sticky chests would meet, his obvious arousal poking at your inner thigh, begging to make an entrance.

You stopped before you inevitably came, even though your body craved for that well-deserved relief. You may have been hornier than you thought, but not nearly horny enough to hand your first orgasm in months on a silver plate to a boy who probably stroked himself in front of a mirror on a daily basis. Your thighs squeezed together where your fingers had left a desperate void, rinsing your entire body with a much colder water, hoping it would bring your sanity back.

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You looked incredible.

It wasn’t just you boosting your ego through a pep talk in front of your mirror back in your dorm this time, and even if you loved to give yourself an encouraging speech, praising whatever features you thought made the cut in the top three of your best assets as you gathered the strength to go out in public in an outfit pretty far from your comfort zone, nothing could ever beat the look people gave you as you walked into the frat house looking like a three courses meal. There was just something about that short time slot where you caught a gaze and knew what that look was all about.

You knew Liza, the head student with a soft spot for athletes so obvious she probably had the entire football team’s handprints tattooed on her skin, just hated to see you get the attention she usually caught. Athletes loved nerdy, smart-ass girls like her, but to her own despair, you actually happened to be one of those, only with a shorter skirt and thicker thighs.

You knew half of Team Jackass was already staring at you, wishing they’d catch a glimpse of whatever you had to offer underneath that impeccable outfit as the soft fabric of your skirt kept rising up, every step bringing you closer to an unfortunate peek at the plain, white cotton undies you had chosen to wear that night.

But above anything, you could most definitely feel someone’s gaze upon you, burning up your skin like lasers trying to scan through your clothes. Suddenly, you felt exposed and with a simple smirk, Tom-Holland came out, strong as ever, just so he could pop out the comforting bubble you had built around you. Of course, he had chosen to wear the tightest white tee-shirt so everyone could distinctively see each of his six, rock-hard abs. Of course, his sleeves were slightly rolled up to enhance his biceps and if you weren’t familiar with his despicable behavior, seeing him flex just so he could kiss the pumped-up mount irrupting from his upper arm like a fresh batch of popcorn on a stove, you could have barfed immediately at the disgusting sight of a man with an ego the size of a fucking comet.

For now, you simply rolled your eyes all the way to the back of your head and watched as he smiled cockily, his hand reaching out for a redhead girl’s cheek even though his eyes were most definitely undressing you from afar. You could tell the girl had dressed to impress as she was tightly wrapped into the just-slutty-enough version of Santa’s outfit. Basically a velvet red dress with a fluffy white strap on top of her bustier. The way she laughed and twirled her long curly strand of hair as she gazed lovingly at Tom was enough for you to know she would soon join the never-ending list of names on his score board.

Shaking your head at how easy it seemed for him to get laid within the first hour of a party, you made your way to the kitchen where the alcohol seemed to be. As expected, most students were already sipping at some questionable cocktail right from the bowl with a straw and since you didn’t feel like going straight for the strong stuff, you settled for a beer, fiddling with the bottle cap for a solid minute before you heard a voice coming from behind your back.

“Need some hand with that, sweetheart?”

The cocky tone and thick accent immediately sent you off as a long, single shiver ran down your spine from the disgusting thoughts it brought along. It had come to the point you couldn’t even stand his stupid voice.

“I’m fine, thanks” you lied, your first still tightly gripped on your sealed beverage.

“You look like you could use some strength…”

Of course, he had to bring up his impressive, spectacular strength within seconds. Maybe he expected you to slow clap, bow down or throw confetti’s all over him for being strong enough to open a beer bottle. What on Earth would you do without his strong, manly hands?

Grinding your teeth as your tongue clicked against your palate out of pure annoyance, you gave him the most unimpressed look as he grabbed the bottle from your hand, popping out the cap hard enough to make it fly off and hit the table with a soft, metallic thump. Smirking to himself, Tom handed you the bottle back, tilting his head as he obviously expected some enthusiastic reaction.

“Do you want a medal or something?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would be a good start? “He mocked, raising his eyebrows in a way that made your consider throwing the entire bottle at his face to wash away his stupid cockiness.

“Thanks” you simply blurted out, raising your beer slightly before walking away as you took a couple sips. It wasn’t even that cold or remotely good.

Tom watched as you walked away in silence, his eyes inevitably drawn to the way your hips and that glorious ass of yours seemed to wiggle into that daunting skirt. Grazing his thumb over his bottom lip with a smirk, the eager flame in his eyes made his will to take you to a quiet place grow bigger with each step you took.

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The music was getting considerably louder as people were now dancing all over the place, from the staircase to whatever was left of furniture after too many parties hosted in this house.  The constant buzzing sound of chit-chats and laughter was slowly making your head spin as you gulped on your third (or was it the fourth?) Shot of tequila. As expected, Y/BFF/N had wasted no time as she was already clinging to Harrison’s neck, feasting on his mouth like an open buffet. His hands were on her bum, holding on to it for dear life with a strong grip. At least, she was having fun.

Out of boredom and to your own surprise, you had agreed on doing shots with a couple people you knew from class. Not technically what you’d call reliable friends but you always bumped into them at parties where you’d basically chat, and drink. From afar, you could see some people had gathered around a table where Team Jackass had started the inevitable beer pong contest. Nibbling at a piece of lime, hoping it would wash away the burning haze of the tequila, you winced at the sourness as your eyes suddenly locked with Tom’s. He was now holding his arms up on both side, raising one fist through the air as he had clearly won that first round. There was something pathetic about a man in his twenties begging for attention and acting like he was about to claim the gold medal at the Olympics when all he did was throw a feather-weighted plastic ball into a red cup.

All the alcohol in the world would never get you drunk enough to tolerate this guy.

Sometimes, you couldn’t help but think it was a shame to see him act so pitiful when he face was actually okay. Well. He was definitely cute as long as his mouth was shut and his stupid, pretentious smug out of the way. With his soft, chocolate brown eyes, his tousled eyebrows and thin pink lips, he could’ve been a guy you’d be interested in. His brown hair was somehow, always tucked into a snapback or a beanie but you had caught a glimpse of his natural curls once and though it killed you on the inside to admit it, he did look great when he didn’t try too hard to be a complete asshole.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t see him walk towards you.

“We’re doing shots now? “

“Impressive” you frowned, “did you figure it out all by yourself?” you chuckled, swallowing what’s left of lime, basically pulp, in one soft gulp.

“You like to act all smart ass around me, don’t you?”

“Correction: I am, in fact, smart… Not that it’s something you’re familiar with so, pardon me if it’s all too confusing for you… “

“Are you calling me dumb, then?” he was frowning now, his enormous self-centered head deflating under the unexpected pressure of your witty come-back.

“Did you hear the word ‘dumb’ coming out of my mouth?”

“No – but I sure know what I would like to see come in that sweet mouth of yours, darling”

The fact he had the nerves to say that kind of stuff right to your face was enough to piss you off but what caught you off guard was his hand reaching for your face as his thumb delicately grazed your bottom lip, pulling at it just enough for you to taste his fingertip.

“Surely, lime isn’t the only thing you like to suck on?” he smiled, cocky as ever as you could feel actual rage building up from your core and all the way to the back of your throat.

“I suggest you keep your hands off me” you snapped, pushing his hand off your face as he laughed to himself, the raspy sound caught in his throat making you throb against all odds.

“Or what? What you gonna do about it, uh?” he teased, confident as ever, his words coming out of his mouth halfway between a threat and a challenge. His arms were crossed against his chest now, making every inch of muscle he owned just pop out. There was nothing sweet about the way his body was built, and was he ever given the occasion, you knew he could break your spine in half with his one hand. You just wished you’d never thought about it as the filthiest images came to your mind, starting with Tom spinning you around over the sink in the bathroom and pinning you down with his palm pressed between your shoulder blades as he pounded hard and fast into you.

Maybe Tequila had gotten to your head faster than you expected.

“I know girls like you” he started, walking backwards until your back hit the wall and you were completely trapped between his arms, one of his leg parting yours so his knee would slowly graze that spot where your thighs met, claiming his access to that precious part of your body you could definitely feel getting damper against your will.

“What about it?” you asked, slightly more provocative than you had intended.

“You like to act all innocent, pretending you have higher standards…” His breath was warm, wrapped into the thickness of alcohol, curving a ball at the back of his throat so his voice would come out raspier and lower than usual, “… but secretly you just want guys like me to fuck the back of your throat until you choke”.

You felt it. Your pussy throb at the single thought of it. You didn’t want to physically react to these obscene images, words coming out of his mouth filthier than anything you’d ever heard, but still, as hard as you wanted to remain cold and unbothered, there was no denying for the dampness between your thighs. You just hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to notice it.

“You disgust me” it took you all the strength you had to spat back at him, and even then, all he did was smile then chuckle softly to himself as his hand slid up your throat, wrapping it slowly until his thumb pressed itself into the crook under your chin, nesting as it was made to be there.

“Please—are you really going to pretend you’ve never thought about my cock filling up your pretty mouth?” his fingers found your lips again, tracing it slowly as your heartbeat increased with each word, “like you’ve never thought about me when you finger yourself at night” he paused, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth as he tilted his head, his mouth coming closer to your hear with a dark whisper “I know you do, baby… I know you touch yourself thinking of me, wishing those fingers were mine, diving into your dripping cunt… Touching spots you could only wish you’d reach… how I would spread those lips open and run my tongue all over your slit….” A warm breeze brushed your neck as a cursed laugh escaped his lips, making you squirm unexpectedly, “I bet you taste so sweet, I would never get enough of that glorious pussy…”

By now, you were wrapped into the intoxicating scent of his cologne. It was strong and manly as expected, yet comforting in a way you didn’t want to think about. You didn’t want to picture yourself wearing that grey hoodie he loved to wear after a game, his perfume raining over your bare chest as you’d lazily ride him on his dorm bed after you’d get bored of whatever movie you’d settled for, pushing your panties to the side as he couldn’t be bothered taking it off completely. You didn’t want to picture him unzipping that same hoodie, palming your boob with one of his strong hands as his mouth sucked on your nipple until your soft, delicate skin turned red from all the biting marks. You didn’t want to feel yourself stretch around his rock-hard cock as he’d lift your legs up to wrap it around his neck, because he’s that kind of jerk who likes to show off even when he’s completely buried inside of you, that kind of complete asshole who loves to remind you just how deep he can go, smirking to himself as he hits your special spot over and over and over…. until you beg for him to stop. That kind of utterly disgusting dickhead who’d never stop, because he knows that, deep down, you just want him to keep going.

“Now you can tell me you’re not already wet… But we both know that’s a lie” he smiled again and as you felt his hand going down, palming you through your top and all the way down to the front of your skirt, you finally decided to come to your senses and grabbed his wrist into your tight fist, stopping him just in time before he’s reached the only approval he truly needed.

“Go to hell, Holland” you snapped, using all of your strength to push him off and walk away.

You didn’t turn back to see him chuckle at the sight of your flushed face.

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The coldness of water came as a shock as you bent over the sink in the bathroom, splashing your face until it didn’t feel like your skin was on fire. Grabbing a towel, you patted your cheeks and forehead, staring at the reflection in front of you. You definitely looked flustered, like you had just run a marathon when all you really did was to suffer through your archenemy’s evil little game.

Usually, you would have just brushed it off and that’d be it. But tonight, for some reason, you just couldn’t seem to shake him off your thoughts, his voice still echoing through your head like a curse without a cure. Outside the bathroom, you could hear the muffled sound of music and screams coming from the living room as beer-pong had turned into strip-pong with everyone removing a piece of clothes every time the ball missed the cup. Typical, drunken behavior. Soon enough these parties would turn into a massive orgy and it wouldn’t even come out as a big surprise.

Freshen up a little had helped you settle your thoughts back into place but still, your body didn’t seem to catch a break as the build-up tension and frustration Tom had caused within your core was yet to be released. There was no denying that your toys would have come handy if you were back to your dorm room as it felt like your pussy kept clenching for no reason, like the gaping mouth of the thirstiest man in the middle of a drought. You knew how bad you needed to put it out of its misery but if you thought undressing for a ping pong game was bad, what would happen if anyone walked on you literally fingering yourself in the bathroom of a frat-house? No one would shut up about it.

Tom would certainly not. Shut. Up. About. It. Ever.

You pressed your thighs together, hoping for some sort of relief as his words came back haunting you, thinking about how your hand had found its way between your legs earlier in the shower, the very second you had thought about his body pushing you up against the tiles. Is that what he was to you, now? A fantasy? Would you become another disgusting cliché of a girl begging for the typical frat boy to fuck her at a party because she couldn’t handle his dirty mouth?

Then you thought about your best-friend and how the last time you’d seen her, she was heading upstairs with Harrison, giggling, her lipstick smudged all over her chin after making out heavily on the couch up to the point everyone was starting to wonder whether they should be charged for that kind of peep-show or just roll with it. How she was probably getting fucked in his bedroom while you were standing alone in a bathroom, dripping wet for a man you hated down to the very bottom of your guts.

The door swung open abruptly, making you jump.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding!” Tom smiled, walking in.

“Can’t a girl have some privacy?”

“I need to take a piss, you’re the one standing out there doing nothing” he joked, walking to the toilets with his hands already fiddling with the zipper of his pants.

“Hum, excuse me?” you spat, widening your eyes as you realized he was genuinely about to use the toilets with you still standing a few meters away.

“I said I needed to take a piss… So either you just stand there watching, which I don’t mind really… or you can get out?” he pointed his chin towards the door, unbothered as he casually pulled his dick out of his boxers.

Both infuriated and shocked, you turned around as there was no point leaving the room now that his whole junk was out and already halfway through it.

“Do you have to be that disgusting? Really you’re such a pig!” you complained as you heard him sigh with relief before the toilet flush broke the most awkward silence of your entire existence.

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll clean it up real nice just for you…” he smiled even though you still had your back turned to him. You heard him use the tap, washing his hands for a considerably long amount of time. At least he wasn’t one of those filthy rats who thought basic hygiene was optional.

“What were you doing by the way?” he finally asked, grabbing the towel to your left, “touching yourself thinking about me?”

You turned around to face his cocky face once more, this time with a furious need to slap it. Hard.

“You know I’ve seen you walking around campus a couple times, Y/N… Those big jumpers and yoga pants you like to wear don’t do that body any justice, but this?” he circled his finger in the air, pointing out her entire outfit “this, I like to see… and if you weren’t being a little brat I would gladly pull up that skirt up to your waist and have you there, above the sink…”

“I’m being a brat?” you scoffed. That was rich, coming from the ultimate king of bratty assholes.

“Well you call it whatever you like but denying yourself something you truly need just to prove a point seems a little childish…” he shrugged, shoving his hands into this jeans pocket and giving you a perfect glimpse at the veins running up his arms and disappearing underneath his rolled up sleeves.

“You think all girls are begging for you to fuck them? Really?”

“Probably, yeah, and who could blame them really? I have a great cock and I’ve never had a single bad review about the way I use it…” he smiled, with the arrogance of a king sitting on a throne of indecency.

“You’re so full of yourself… it’s insane” you shook your head with pure disgust.

“Then go ahead and prove it”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“That you’re not dripping wet as we speak…”

Point taken.

You were, indeed, dripping wet and soon enough, you’d have some serious explaining to do as the thin cotton fabric of your underwear was now soaked with your unsolicited arousal. Even though your head was filled with hateful thoughts and resentment for Tom, it felt like your body would not stop begging for his touch, dragging him closer like two pieces of magnets on a fridge. Unconsciously, you were now standing a couple inch away from his face, so close you could actually smell the soft mixt of menthol and alcohol from his breath. There was no point denying the obvious tension between you two as you looked like you were about to break into a passionate kiss but now it was just a fight between your will for self-preservation and your body, aching to be touched.

And so you heard yourself say these words you never thought you’d say, like you were standing in the audience as your other self was performing on stage, making some questionable decisions you weren’t 100% okay with.

“Which one’s your bedroom?”

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You could have fought longer, for the sake of your personal values, but as your feet were swiped off the ground, your back hitting the door as it closed behind you with a loud slam, all of your good sense and respectable choices just vanished as much filthier thoughts buried them for good.

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands had wasted no time and found their way under your top, fondling your breast with the hunger of a wolf. Your lips attached to his, you moaned louder than expected as he pushed himself a little harder against you, the obvious stiffness of his crotch pressing against your aching core. Your skirt had risen up to your waist from spreading your legs a little too wide, flashing your white panties as it was now so soaked you could definitely see the outline of your lips, the thin fabric sticking to your slit. Catching your breath, heavy pants breaking your kiss, you looked into Tom’s eyes only to see nothing but pure, absolute lust in them. As you tugged at his brown locks, a couple strand curling slightly at the back of his neck, you watched as his snapback fell to the floor with a thump, unleashing his brown untamed mane.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem so bad, groaning slightly as your fingers scrapped the back of his neck, your lips sucking on his throat for good measures. With his head tilted back slightly, it felt like Tom was getting soft for a while, caving in so you could take control over him. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long as he suddenly traced a hand all the way down to your inner thigh, immediately pushing your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“I knew it…” he smiled, sliding his finger along your slit as you wrapped it up with a glistening coat of arousal. You knew he had won the minute he felt just how wet you were for him, but when it should have been upsetting, you just didn’t care. All you needed now was to feel his cock filling you up in any way he wanted, “who made you this wet, darling?” he smiled, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Don’t be a brat…” you complained as you could see some mischief in the way he looked at you.

“Just say it” he insisted “I want to hear you say out loud just how wet I make you” this wasn’t a request, but an order. And for some obscure reason you didn’t want to figure out, it somehow turned you on even more.

“You…” you started, biting your lip out of nerves, or out of excitement, you weren’t sure quite yet. “You make me so wet, Tom” you almost moaned, pushing yourself a little harder against his hand when he failed to give you exactly what you needed. His fingers. Buried deep inside of you.

“Hmm” Tom groaned, two of his digits spreading your lips apart at a torturing slow pace, “I like the sound of that…” his knuckles were barely halfway when you buckled your hips off the door, begging for more, “what’s that darling? Tell me what you want…” he was whispering by now, slowly pushing his fingers into your desperate slit, “I want to hear you beg for it…”

You felt him push deeper, curving his fingers into a hook every time he reached your g-spot. By now you were so aroused you just knew it would take you more than a couple stroke to cum heavily into his awaiting palm. You could hear the sloppy sound of your own wetness every time he slammed his slick, extremely skilled digits back into your throbbing pussy. His lips curved into a hasty smile as he could feel you literally drip all over his palm and wrist.

“I want you… I want you so much” you barely managed to whimper as he increased the pace, his wrist working its magic between your thighs.

“Hmm hmm? I’m gonna need you to be more specific baby… what exactly do you want?” his thumb grazed your clit for a brief second and that was enough for you to squeal under his touch, making you clench suddenly around his fingers, “say you want my cock” he almost growled as you felt his hard-on twitch against your thigh, begging to be freed.

“I want your cock” you immediately wimped, your own words sending shivers down your spine as you twitched with anticipation, “I want it so, so bad…”

“Good girl…” he hummed, slowing down the pace so he could add a third finger, stretching you out slightly this time, “d’you think you can take it though? It’s pretty big…” he smiled, twisting his hand just enough so he could dig himself a path.

You simply nodded, unable to speak anymore, but as you were about to beg for more, Tom removed his hand, leaving you frustrated and hornier than ever. His face changed suddenly as he watched you pout, his hand reaching up for your lips.

“What about that pretty mouth, then? You think it may fit?” he smiled, spreading your lips apart so you could taste yourself on his soaked fingers. You immediately obliged, sucking at it, one by one, never keeping your eyes off him. When he shoved three of his digits, watching as your tongue twirled around it, cleaning it off completely, you could definitely tell his eyes had gotten darker, filled with unspeakable thoughts you would be begging to hear soon.

“You’re gonna let me fuck that pretty face?” he added, removing his fingers from your mouth so he could give you a soft, cheeky slap on the cheek. You nodded, obedient as ever. “Say it” he commanded, louder this time, “say you want my cock inside your mouth”.

“I want it… I want your cock inside my mouth” you pouted, only because you knew he loved to see you beg like a spoiled little princess. You’d seen it in his eyes, the way he looked at you every time you tilted your head to fake an innocence that was long gone.

Tom stepped back, walking away slowly as he watched you standing there, flustered, your hair all over the place, panting out of lust and frustration. Pulling his shirt off, you watched as his impressive chest unveiled in front of you. Abs like rocks, a thin strand of hair tracing a path from his navel to his crotch, disappearing under his jeans, his impeccable V-line bringing images you never thought you had within yourself. As he pushed his hair back, daunting you with his a look half way between arrogance and disdain, it felt like all signs of dignity had left your brain as all you could think about was to crawl to the floor and beg for his cock.

“What you’re waiting for then, Darling?” he smiled, unzipping his flies as he watched you walk towards him and get on your knees within seconds.

Your hands pulled at his jeans until it finally pooled around his ankles. Looking up to stare into his eyes, you felt both small and powerful, submissive but in control as you were now responsible for this man pleasure. It was up to you whether he’ll get to cum or not. But as you considered edging him as an option, Tom wasted no time in remembering you who was actually in charge.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” he sighed, grabbing your hair into a fist as his other hand stroked his cock through the cotton fabric of his boxers. You could tell he was just horny as you were as a couple pre-cum had already stained his briefs, turning it into a darker shade of grey.

Again, you nodded, removing his hand so you could replace it with yours, palming him through his briefs as he growled against your touch. He was big. Actually much bigger than you expected but somehow, you were up for a challenge. Tracing the outline of his cock with your fingers tips, you felt him push his hands on the back of your head, forcing you to come closer to his crotch.

“I want to fuck your pretty little mouth so, so bad” he groaned as you unexpectedly ran your tongue all over his stiff through the fabric, feeling it twitch as you palmed his balls. By now he was so hard you could feel the veins tracing a dirty road up to his leaking head as Tom started grinding slowly against your mouth, messing up your hair with his desperate fists.

When you pulled down his boxers, you took a couple seconds to stare at his glorious manhood, hard and pressed against his abdomen where it curved slightly, your mouth watering with a thirst you could have never pictured, especially when standing in Tom Holland’s bedroom. And yet, you couldn’t wait to have this magnificent piece of flesh filling up your mouth.

“Like what you see?” Tom smirked, boasting as ever but immediately squinting his eyes with a deep growl the minute he felt your tongue licking at the base, slowly going up until you finally bobbed on his creaming head.

You had always been good at this, giving head. Not that all of your partners would give you a proper review in the morning, pointing out your highs and lows, but there were just things men couldn’t do, like hiding the fact they were just having the time of their lives. And right now, Tom actually looked like there was nowhere else in the world he would rather be than standing here, with his cock in your mouth.

Twirling your hand at the base where you mouth couldn’t go just yet, you started bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking your cheeks in so your mouth would pop every time his dick came out. You had quickly figured out a couple things about Tom, including the fact he just seemed to love it dirty and noisy. You could actually hear him growl louder, his fist tightening its grip into your hair every time he slipped off your lips, only for him to shove it back a little harder and definitely deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it baby… Just like that… you’re such a good girl…”

You were a good girl, indeed. Always had been. Straight-A’s student from day one, the pride and joy of your parents, spending most of your week-ends doing some volunteer work whenever it was needed while being a caring, polite girl who never did anything wrong. Right choices only.

Or so you thought. Obviously, tonight would be always marked as the only questionable decision on your impeccable path to perfection. But still, as Tom grabbed your face with both hands to push himself deeper and all the way down your throat, making you gasp for air slightly, you had no regrets.

You stayed still for as long as your lungs could handle it, holding on to his firm, muscular buttocks as you swallowed him all. Looking down on you, Tom was left speechless as his cock stretched your cheeks out, his balls resting into your palm as you twitched them slowly, making it jolt with both pain and pleasure. When you felt like you were about to gag, you pushed yourself back, gasping for air as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Your cheeks felt numb and yet it missed the feeling of being stretched out already.

“Hmmm baby look at you…. you think you’re ready for it?”

“Yeah” was all you could blurt out. Yes to anything he wanted. You were prepared. You longed for it.

Looking around as Tom started pumping himself, getting ready for you, spitting into his palm to lube himself up so your lips wouldn’t drag along his shaft too much, you just couldn’t believe you were there, kneeling on the navy carpet of Tom Holland’s bedroom, the epitome of the ultimate frat boy. A huge flag from his favorite sports team was hanging above his bed, his never-ending hats collection sitting on wooden shelves by the wall like it was some kind of “frat boy starter pack” Art exhibition. In the corner of the room, you caught an unexpected glimpse at a guitar. It looked fairly new, but never in a million years would you have pictured Tom playing guitar. On his desk, his laptop was still open on a Spotify tab where you’d probably find a playlist based on some typical white boy rap music but against all odds, the room looked neat compared to what you had in mind.

“You look so beautiful” he sighed, out of nowhere, and to be completely honest, had your mouth not been filled with his dick, you would have probably picked up your jaw from the floor. Taking him all in once more, you just pretended you couldn’t hear, sparing you some awkward misunderstanding. Maybe those words were actually directed to his dick. After all, the boy loved himself just that much.

His hands were all over your face, wiping tears from your eyes every time he hit the back of your throat a little too hard, stroking your cheeks, massaging the back of your neck, roaming through your tangled hair as your kept up with his reckless pace, his hips swinging back and forth while you remained completely still so you could take him like a champ.

“God, I love to see you choke on my cock….” He gritted through his teeth “so…so hot…” you could tell he was getting sloppier now, pumping in and out of your mouth abruptly then a lot more slower as a couple twitch from his cock gave you a hint of his upcoming grand finale.

By now, you were a slippery mess, the taste of pre-cum hitting your throat as you dribbled all over his shaft, obscene sounds of suction coming out of your mouth every time he pushed himself out and back in all over again.

“F----uuuuck….fuck baby I’m gonna come!” he grunted, the sudden high-pitch of his broken voice driving you insane as you pushed yourself up a little so you could open your mouth wider, expecting him to fill it up soon enough. “D’you want me to cum in your mouth? Uh?” again, he gave you a little slap on the cheek, not quite hard enough for you to feel any pain. You nodded, moaning whatever came close to a “yes” as every single inch of your mouth was filled with Tom.

You heard him whimper, twitching a couple times, harder with his thrust as his hand fisted into your hair abruptly throughout his climax. Looking up to see his face, your eyes locked with his as he came all over your tongue, raining down your throat with a couple last, sloppy thrusts.

“Oh fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuuu------“

Your eyes immediately teared up as you tried your best to swallow every drop of cum he had to give, the corner of your lips dripping like an overflowing sink.

Then there was a complete silence.

As you wiped your mouth off the thick, warmness of his cum, you felt him kneel to your side, then sit. Both of you looked completely exhausted, drained from every ounce of energy you had left.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad… for a little brat” he spoke again, and you just couldn’t believe he had gathered the energy to say this when he could have chosen silence.

Laughing quietly to yourself so you wouldn’t slap him across the face, you decided not to fuel him up and remained quiet instead. His hair had gone curlier than heaver, his glistening red face making him look like any cute boy you could easily fall for.

“I’ve got a feeling we’re gonna see a lot more of you at frat parties now?” he spoke again, and though it truly pissed you off to admit it, you just knew this wasn’t a one-time thing. For all you knew, this, was barely a prequel to a long, bumpy story of a good girl gone bad.

All because of Tom-fucking-Holland.

[novelconcepts]

Excuse you...😭 The first prompt being absolutely Older Jamie having a cat that bonds with her AND Dani... Sad hours in this house, damn

She never let them have pets. There isn't much Dani Clayton regrets--isn't much point, she's found, in the endless, boundless stretch of after--but sometimes, she does regret that much. Jamie always laughed it off, said she didn’t mind--What do I need pets for? Got more than enough to keep alive, thanks very much.--but Dani knew she’d never had animals growing up. Hadn’t stood still long enough for a cat, or a rabbit, or even fish. Maybe it’s true that you can’t miss what you never had, but she can’t help wondering if Jamie’s got some little puncture, deep down, that should have been filled with a big-hearted creature who would have put her first. 

And Dani, to her eternal chagrin, hadn’t been able to fill that. Hadn’t been able to allow herself that. The beast, she was sure, would someday rise, and it was bad enough to think of Jamie going without. Bad enough to imagine Jamie staring hollowly at the door, wishing for Dani’s key in the lock. What would a dog have done? What would an animal who had only ever wanted love and to be loved have thought, the day Dani inevitably left and could not return home again?

How she’d thought of it in life, anyway. Now, she’s aware of so much. Aware of time in a slipstream around her, of the immediacy of the past, the present, the future all bound up with gold-edged ribbon. She is Dani Clayton, eight years old and watching her father waste to nothing, and she is Dani Clayton, twenty-nine and watching Eddie laugh at their engagement party, and she is Dani Clayton, thirty-one and watching Jamie nervously place a moonflower on a counter. Forever, she is Dani Clayton--the lost little girl, the stubborn young woman, the beloved wife. 

And Jamie? Jamie does not yet understand forever. She isn’t yet a part of the slipstream. Jamie is silver-haired, twisting that ring: a gardener and a widow, a storyteller and a scarred heart. Jamie doesn’t get it yet. Dani wishes she could tell her. Wishes she could impart the wisdoms of after while Jamie can still make use of them. 

She can’t. She’s tried. Her hand on Jamie’s shoulder, night after night, she’s tried to will the knowledge into the love of her life. I’m here. I’m always right here. You have to keep living, Jamie, you have to keep going, because I will always be right here. 

For years, she’s worried it’ll never sink in. For years, which are moments, which are blinks, she watches Jamie stagger through the world. Jamie, making bargains with gods and ghosts. Jamie, unable to see her, unable to let her go. Jamie, desperate and grieving and miserable. It sets an ache in Dani’s chest she hadn’t thought she could feel anymore. All time is now. How is there still pain?

But watching Jamie--watching her run baths, button into Dani’s old blouses, prop that god-forsaken door open in dozens of hotels over the years--how could it not be painful? Watching Jamie hurt is the worst of the world. Watching Jamie in her recklessness, watching solid, grounded Jamie crack open one empty mirror at a time. How could it not dig at her?

You’ll understand, Dani thinks--and it is as much a wish as a certainty. Someday. Soon. Now. Always. You’ll understand. The gardener always learns. The gardener always listens. The gardener can’t not piece it together, given enough time. 

But, for Jamie, it’s slow. It’s linear. It’s one day at a time, one year after another. For Jamie, it’s another Christmas alone. Another of Dani’s birthdays celebrated in silence: a lit candle, a photo, a woman bent over her own knees as her shoulders shudder. For Jamie, time plods. Time bleeds. Time is a wound she can’t stitch shut.

And then: the first one follows her home.

It’s an accident, Dani knows--would know, even if Jamie hadn’t in recent years taken to muttering to herself in the solace of an empty room. Jamie hadn’t even realized it was happening until the scruffy little mongrel followed her off the street, into the building. It sits--curly black fur, enormous brown eyes--at her side as if waiting. As if the invitation is implicit. As if it’s already home.

“No,” Jamie says. Dani can’t help smiling; there’s something to Jamie saying no that way that has always sounded an awful lot like a wall coming down. And, sure enough, the minute the door is open, the dog saunters inside as though it has never belonged anywhere else.

A bit, Dani thinks, like Jamie after Dani had taken her hand that night. 

It’s an accident, but Jamie has never been much good at turfing out creatures in need of love once they’re inside. The dog stays. Jamie calls him Iowa--it seems to have been the first thing to slip out of her mouth, and the dog cocks his head and wags his nub of a tail, and that’s that. Jamie, for the first time in her life--fifty-seven years old, paying rent on her first flat in over a decade--has a pet. 

Dani thinks it’ll be good for her. A dog begs routine. A dog needs walks, and feeding at reasonable hours, and doors that are shut at night. That Iowa seems older--relaxed and certain and just a bit bull-headed--is even better. He doesn’t run ragged around the flat, knocking into tables, shattering flower pots. He simply trots along at Jamie’s side as though he’s always been there. 

It would be enough, Dani senses, if it were just the two of them. Jamie has always thrived in the caring for other living things. Jamie is happiest when given a task, a hands-on approach to the world. The dog, she may not have sought out--but the dog is hers, and she is his, and there is a kind of salvation in unexpected love. 

The next one is even more of an accident, if that’s possible. A huge bear of a beast, shaggy and stained and wet-eyed. Jamie finds it limping through the streets of London with mud caked on its belly and head hung low. No tags. No marker of any kind. Iowa nudges her around the knees, looking at the mountainous creature, and Jamie sighs. 

“No,” she tells him, but Dani--and Iowa--can tell it’s a lie even before the syllable is completely formed. Jamie is already reaching a cautious hand toward the trembling dog. It whimpers. It presses its nose to her outstretched fingers. Iowa’s tail wags. 

London is, when given a proper bath and brushing, quite beautiful. Her limp is temporary; her attachment to Iowa in particular, eternal. The first night, with the dog resting her chin on Jamie’s knee, stretched across a threadbare couch, Jamie says, “Found it on the street. Wanted to save it” in a tone that suggests she’s speaking from a dream. Her jaw clenches. Her eyes close. Dani has never wanted so badly to break her own rules.

Neither dog seems to notice her. She’s relieved, in a way; Jamie’s nightly ritual never wavers, save for reluctantly closing the door--as with so many features of Jamie’s world, the safety of others precludes her own--and if the dogs began barking at shadows, it’s likely Jamie would never sleep again. Anyway, these aren’t her pets. Jamie has saved them--or they’ve saved her--and that bond is one Dani can’t muster envy for. 

Two dogs and a home full of plants. It doesn’t bring the light back into Jamie’s eyes, not all the way, but she walks a bit taller these days. Fidgets a little less. Cries often enough, but now there are soft muzzles to press her face against when she does. It’s better, Dani can see. Nothing will ever be what it was, but better is sometimes the most you can ask for in life. 

The third dog is less an accident, more a surprise. A two-for-one deal, to a degree; Jamie has wandered into the local shelter, where she’s taken to volunteering on weekends, and come across a sharp-toothed, snappish shepherd no one else seems able to touch. He’s been through the ringer, the other volunteers say, sage and exhausted by similar experiences. Abuse, probably. Neglect, probably. Only three or four, but with enough mistrust baked into his bones for three lifetimes. 

“He doesn’t like men,” one weary-looking young man says. “Or people who move too fast. Or multiple people coming at him all at once.”

“Can relate,” Jamie says, her mouth quirking. Dani laughs. “What does he like?”

The volunteer points. There, in the back of the shepherd’s cage, is a lithe black shadow. It blinks lantern-gold eyes up at Jamie, tail twitching, and makes a rasping sound that might, in another animal, have been a proper meow. 

“Came in same-day. Can’t separate ‘em. Not sure how we’re going to get them adopted.”

Jamie rubs her jaw, left hand hesitating on the way down. She touches the tip of a finger to her ring and heaves a sigh. 

“Fuck.”

She calls the shepherd Paris, and though it takes time--several patient weeks, Jamie turning up at regular hours each day to coax the nervy animal into growing accustomed to her smell, her voice, her easy-slow method of moving--by the time the papers are signed, there’s no changing it. The flat is now overrun, dog hair clinging to every surface, water bowls standing sentry in the kitchen. The cat’s litterbox goes into the bathroom, Jamie frowning a little as she surveys the new landscape of her home. 

“You,” she tells the cat. “Best behavior. Anything goes crash in the night, it’s your hide.”

The cat preens, rubbing around her ankles. Jamie sighs.

“Christ, if she could see me now.”

Something tugs deep in Dani’s chest--pride, and sorrow, and love of the most fervent kind. The dogs--proud Iowa, sweet London, Paris keeping a careful distance from both--are draped around the living room. Jamie’s home is theirs. Jamie is their home. Dani knows so well what that feels like. They’re lucky creatures.

The dogs are sleepy, warm, happy. The cat--

The cat is looking at her.

Dani frowns. She’s imagining things. Must be. She’s been drifting around Jamie--traveling the world at her side, resting a hand over her shoulder each night--for years and years. Nothing has ever looked at her. Nothing has ever seen her. Not Jamie. Not the dogs. Nothing. 

But this cat. This cat, with its huge golden eyes, black ears twitching, is staring right at her. 

“Huh,” says Dani.

“Mrow,” says the cat.

“C’mon,” says Jamie, oblivious to it all. “Supper.”

Days go by before Jamie properly names the cat. She strokes her fingers gently over the creature’s back, tracing the length of spine and tail, and frowns each night. “Who,” she says quietly, “are you?”

The cat butts against her palm, rumbling deep in its chest. Jamie makes a soft pensive sound.

“Vermont?” She shakes her head. “Nah. You’re different, mm? Somethin’ else.”

The cat chirps, turning its head, gazing into the corner where Dani is leaning. Dani raises a hand, wiggling her fingers experimentally. The cat makes the same noise a second time, as if in greeting. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Eerie little beast. Never thought I was much for cats, y’know. But here you are.”

Never thought you were much for people, either, Dani thinks with amusement. Didn’t stop you drawing us all close. 

In the end, Jamie begins calling the cat Gremlin. A nickname, offered in warning, at first--any time she moved too near a plant, or experimentally sniffed at London’s paws while she slept, Jamie would quietly intone, “Oi. Gremlin. Back it up.” It is, in its own way, reminiscent of the way Poppins had clung to their first year--an accidental gift cherished by its recipient. 

Dani can tell the cat--rumbling her pleasure each time the name is used--agrees. Plants are left to their devices. The dogs seem strangely hard-wired to accept the cat as their queen. Jamie shakes her head. 

“So be it, suppose.”

It’s good, watching her build a routine around them. Dani hasn’t seen her stand this still since Vermont, but the dogs love the nearby park, and Gremlin sunbathes happily on the balcony, and Jamie seems, for the first time in years, to be fostering a simple sort of peace. The baths still fill, and her eyes are still too often far-away, but the door is shut. The dogs stretch out around the living room--which doubles, as all living spaces have for a decade, as Jamie’s bedroom--as if warding off intruders. The cat sets up shop on the back of the couch, peering down with regal bearing as Jamie slowly dozes off. And, when Dani inevitably presses a hand toward Jamie’s shoulder the first night--

“Hey,” she says, very quietly. “What’s this?”

Gremlin makes a raspy sort of sound, nudging toward her. She does not make contact, exactly; Dani hasn’t quite figured out touch, in all this time. She hasn’t had much cause. Touching Jamie is a dream, an ache she has carried since her death that reminds her forcefully of before, at Bly, when she hadn’t thought herself worthy or capable. Touching Jamie is the one part of all of this that still feels linear--I could touch her in life, and I can touch her when she gets here, but in between...in between...

In between, Dani can reach toward her. Can brush the space around her shoulder. Can be here, with her, in every way except directly, because some things are still unfair. Like Jamie feeling alone, even with Dani right here. Like Dani being able to always-someday-soon-now except for where it matters most.

She is in the kitchen at Bly, and she is in their bedroom in Vermont, and she is 1976, 1988, 1999, and she is--

Almost petting this cat. Almost. Her brows come sharply together, her heart thudding. 

“How?” she asks Gremlin, who seems not to mind. The cat presses in a bit harder, as if to say, Keep trying. Dani sees no reason not to obey. 

Each night, the animals spread around Jamie in a protective circle: Paris at the door, London beside the couch, Iowa nestled between Jamie’s knees. Each night, Gremlin sets up on the back of the couch, watching Jamie’s breath even out, and turns those enormous eyes on Dani.

And, little by little...

She can’t pick the cat up, or close her hands gently around her face. She can’t make the kind of contact she would as a living woman--matter pressing against matter, mass imposing upon mass. But her fingers are unequivocally brushing thick black fur. She can feel the cat’s breath on her skin. This is true, and real, and solid--and the cat, looking entirely too proud of herself, can plainly feel her in return.

Dani Clayton has been dead for over a decade, and Dani Clayton has been here all the same ever since, but for the first time, Dani Clayton is touching. Dani Clayton is feeling, not simply in the ether of memory, but now. 

She holds a breath as Gremlin rubs against her fingers. She’s still holding it when, slowly, carefully, she reaches down to the couch. 

Her fingers brush silver. Jamie’s brow knits, her lips parting. She’s always looked like this in sleep--as though some part of her just isn’t willing to shut down all the way. She’s always looked as though some part of her needs to be on guard. 

Now, with Dani’s fingers threading through her hair, that tight, armored expression gives a little bit. Just a little. 

In the morning, Dani wonders if Jamie’s eyes will flicker open and she will, finally, see her. There’s a breathless kind of terror to the idea--that she’s gone this long keeping Jamie safe from diving permanently into her own grief, only for a cat to undo all of that work. But, when the sun rises and Jamie rises with it, she gives no sign at all. No sign that she can see Dani, standing beside the couch, though Gremlin is staring right at her. No sign that anything has changed.

Except--except her hand, lingering at the crown of her head. Her fingers, sifting almost absently through her hair, tracing the same path Dani had been unable to pull away from. Her brow furrows. Her head shakes. 

“Breakfast?” she asks the animals in various stages of waking around her. Gremlin stretches, back leg popped high, and hops down. Dani doesn’t think she’s imagining the cat’s easy swagger as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

It isn’t the life she’d imagined for Jamie, laying awake and watching her sleep. Not the life she’d wanted for Jamie, hoping as hard as she could that the beast would remain always at bay. She’d never looked at Jamie and expected dogs to follow her home, hurt and lonely and in need of someone to show them the world can be kind. She hadn’t expected a cat with a swishing tail and a regal demeanor, standing sentinel. Jamie’s life has never quite veered in this direction before.

But: watching her now, as she slips a bit of apple to each dog, strokes the cat, leans her hip against the counter as she waits for the water to boil, Dani has to admit it suits her. Jamie has always been at her best giving love, even against her own better judgement. 

In time, Dani’s sense of soon-someday-now-always will broaden to encompass Jamie, as well. The years will press on. There will come a time where the brush of Dani’s hand across her sleeping cheek--the phantom press of Dani soothing Jamie out of a particularly bad nightmare--will evolve into the intertwining of finally standing on the same plane again. It is the natural order of things. Organic. Dani, standing outside of time, is patient. 

And Jamie: is slowly building herself a home again. Jamie is waking to take dogs out, and brushing down Gremlin’s ink-black fur, and looking more present in the world than she’s been in a decade. Jamie, staring into the mirror each night with Paris pressed resolutely against her legs, Iowa hovering in the doorway, almost smiles. 

“Someday,” she murmurs, “I am going to have some stories for you.”

Dani smiles. She knows, of course--outside of time, it’s hard not to know--but she can’t wait to hear them, all the same. Stories always land a little differently, coming out of Jamie’s mouth. 

Soon, she promises silently. Someday. Always. Now. 

In the meantime, Jamie reaches for a bundle of leashes, giving Gremlin a brief scratch between the ears. She pauses at the door, glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes drifting over Dani without notice. At her side, heading the pack, Iowa gives a small bark to confirm his readiness. 

“Right,” says Jamie softly. “Back soon.”

It is the first time in too long Dani has been sure she will be okay.

[loverholland]

sunrise. pp x reader

summary: y/n finally arrived back in new york after a year in cali. not only does she find that her little corner of the world is disappearing, but that he little crush just so happened to not have disappeared. word count: ~1,900 warnings: none that I can think of. a/n: i hope you like this. this has been in my drafts since 2019 i think.

✨☁️💭🪴🪐🧋🛼🎐

Y/N’s hand touched the railing of Peter’s balcony. It was a simple apartment, one that she would expect for him to have. It was a small, one bedroom and one bath apartment that sometimes had hot water and sometimes had mice, but nonetheless, Y/N loved it. It was the first time she had ever seen his apartment other than in FaceTime, which were far and few between. He had such a perfect view of Queen’s where the tree’s sang beautiful songs and the bird’s would join in with harmonies. It reminded her of those times when she would go to Aunt May’s apartment and sit on the fire escape. She missed the yellow chipped paint and the abundance of plants. It was small and minimal but it was home. Pictures would line the walls and almost every surface that she could fill - many of them were Peter and her or Peter and his parents, but when he began bringing home Ned and Y/N, the pictures became more inclusive of their friendship.

Y/N always brought a Kodak camera everywhere. Those pictures felt the most authentic. The most real, so those were the ones she gave Aunt May. Every Christmas, every birthday, were just months worth of pictures that she could put anywhere she imagined.

Everything felt so normal, but they weren’t. Of course, they weren’t. Washington Heights experienced a blackout, one that hadn’t hit for ages. Everything was going away from her in so little time. Nail Venom was moving, shops are closing down, people are leaving. Her humble abode is leaving and it was getting close to her parent’s closing up their ?? and leaving Washington Heights for good. Leaving what she knew for good.

“Y/N?” Peter yawned. She turned her head to look at him in all of his glory. He jue woke up but he looked so stunning in the rising rays and he looked like a Renaissance painting. His curls were much messier than they were last night and his beautiful chocolate brown eyes looked like the perfect coffee that she would get back at UCLA. He was shirtless and only wore a pair of gray sweatpants and my Gods he was made right out by the Gods themselves.

“I’m here.” She whispered before turning her head back to the world in front of her. Not wanting to give it up for just a moment longer. They had practiced some Spanish, drunkenly, she must add. He was good at it, not that she would ever tell him that. Never would she imagine giving him such a big head like that.

“Are you ready to try again?” Y/N asked, implying to the previous Spanish lesson. It was so early, but she felt so at peace. The corners of her lips rising a bit more when Peter answered:

“I think I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Y/N paused, turning to leverage herself on the railing, pushing back for a moment, a wide smile spreading across her face as she looked at Peter. “Let’s go.” There was a moment as she thought of what to say. Something that he knew? Give him something hard. A curse word? She would laugh if given the chance but then the idea of her home. En Washington Heights. Her esquina was slowly leaving this earth for good, only few being able to tell the story of Washington Heights.

“Esquina?”

“Corner.” Peter answered correctly, a short lived smile creeping towards the corners of his lips. He knew he was right.

“Tienda?”

“Store.”

“Bombilla?”

“Lightbulb!”

“Too easy” she thought to herself. She turned her head to look over the horizon. The world was wonderful with how the sky was painted orange and pinks. The moon was still out, it was beautiful. And not only that but this world had Peter, the most wonderful man she had ever been lucky to know. Well, shit. Maybe not wonderful.

Last night was a lot. The lights were brighter then than any light now. The screams of joy and laughing from everyone around her, we're nothing like her experience. A drunken Peter was angry that Y/N’s father didn’t accept their relationship. He was so angry and the way he threatened his internship at Stark Industries (not that papi would get anywhere). The world felt like it was ending and it kind of did. All of Washington Heights suddenly became dark, a forgotten and hidden place in the world. The once joyful noise turned into horror and fear, everything quickly declining. And then she was alone.

In the middle of chaos, she was alone.

But now, here she is on Peter’s fire escape. The beautiful and peaceful world going on around her. Sure, it was hot. But the world was so much better. The people were quiet and asleep while the sunshine danced along the buildings. Animal’s running the streets freely before everyone woke up. Everything was right.

“You’re sure?” Y/N questioned after a moment of reminiscing. She gave him a smile after biting her bottom lip for a moment. He was right and she knew it but she just wanted to see if he was confident in himself and his answers. He hadn’t taken Spanish since high school and he claimed that he forgot a majority of it, but she always questioned it but never pushed him to speak in her native language with her.

Peter paused and pushed himself off the brick wall, taking a step towards her. His eyes searched for a reason to stop, but he couldn’t find one. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to ever find one. “I’m sure.”

“Three out of three, you did alright.” Y/N pushed herself off the railing and took a step towards Peter, her head tilting back to look up at him. She couldn’t help but be infatuated with Peter. She had only been back for a few days and all of the past feelings came flowing back. She spent so long believing that she would never be good enough for Peter that she just hid the idea of ever being with him or him sharing the same feelings. Oh, how she was wrong.

“Well teach me a little more…” he trailed, his hand going to touch Y/N’s cheek. He didn’t immediately touch her however, he wanted some form of consent and when Y/N leaned her face to touch his hand, he took that as an ‘okay’ before brushing her cheek with his thumb.

“Calor?”

“Heat.”

“Anoche?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

“Last night.”

“Dolor.

“Pain?”

“That’s right.” She confirmed, eyebrows knitting together. She lifted her right hand and laid it on Peter’s chest, staring at it as the words left her lips like endless lullabies. Not taking any longer to think of what to say, she knew what needed to be said for both of them. “Llámame?”

“Call me.”

“Ámame”

“Love me.”

A breath escaped Y/N’s lips. They felt so close yet so far away from one another. Her eyes lifted away from being set on her hand on Peter’s chest to look at his beautiful, comforting eyes. “Perhaps I do-”

“Well, how do you say “kiss me”?”

“Besame.”

“And how do you say “hold me”?”

“Abrázame.” Y/N inevitably whispered, the words all making the flutter in her chest more intense. Her eyes were filled with so much joy yet so much anxiety at the same time. “Al amanezer. At sunrise.” [need to look up]

“Anything can help at sunrise.”

Y/N looked up at Peter’s eyes, she just wanted to kiss him right then and there. They held eye contact for a moment before her eyes dropped to his lips, leaning in a bit closer. She could feel how clammy her own hands were. She hated the feeling of it, but she knew this could dictate so much more especially considering her future. This action could change so much between them and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. But maybe she should just dive in head first. Her heart thumped against her chest, eyes closing for a moment as her lips parted, allowing air to escape and to his Peter’s lips.

“What will he say?” Peter pulled back, removing his hand from her cheek and dropping it down to his side, fiddling with the pocket that was hanging out of the sweats.

What a dramatic ass.

“Que dirá?”

“When he sees me around you?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together with concern. Y/N understood exactly how he felt. The fear of losing one another to her father. Losing this connection again. Y/N always believed that the time wasn’t right and that if it were destined to be, it would be.

“How do you say “Promise me?”” Peter asked, quieter than before. His forehead was pressed against hers, eyes closed as they took in the moment, hands briefly touching as a spark traced up their arms.

“Prometeme.”

“Promise me you’ll stay beyond the sunrise and that we won’t care what anyone has to say -”

“Beyond the sunrise.” Y/N cut off Peter. Their eyes met, searching for an invitation to kiss one another. The world seemed to stop at this moment. The trees' sweet songs slowed down as Peter leaned into the small space between he and Y/N. The birds stopped their harmonies and the cars stopped the melodies, it felt like the perfect interlude to any great story.

And then it just happened. Peters hand cupped her cheek like an angel cupping a baby for the first time. He softly guided her lips to his; it felt so soft and secure. His lips touched hers and in the moment she swore she was infinite. She was so alive and free in this moment. His lips melded with her like a beautiful piano melody being played. Everything that she could ever love and more was right here. Her heart pounded to the thought of him. To the action that was being played out.

Never in her wildest dream did she think she'd be kissing Peter Parker. During the sunrise. In Queens. She always thought that maybe one day, when they're older and they finally come to the conclusion, or maybe her accepting it more than she did before. She wasn't too sure how it would happen, but this was never the plan.

As quickly as it started, it ended. Peter pulled away, breathless

“Promise me you’ll stay.” Peter whispered against her lips as he pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation. Stay… how? With him? In New York? She wasn’t too sure what he meant, but those were the words she’s always wanted to speak to him. Just the act was something she thought about many times in high school. She had told herself that if she didn’t go to UCLA she would finally man up and tell Peter about her little crush and go to a school in NYC. But then she left.

“I’ll stay.” Y/N promised, her fingers interlinking with Peter’s. The pad of his thumb rubbing across the top of her hands. A promise that she would swear to fulfill. If not for her, then for him. She couldn’t imagine the world that he has around him but that world would be her’s. He would become her world in such a short amount of time.

Beyond the sunrise.