#in order for that sentence to make any fucking sense in the movie

[myymi]

ohh if you can i would appreciate some tips!! honestly writers are so admirable we dont give yall enough credit🙏🙏🙏

well, for me to give you the absolute best tips i can to help out, i need to know what exactly you're struggling with when it comes to writing. there are about a million different tips i can give you for about a million different things and some of those tips will be completely useless to you

for now though, i'll give you the things that help me getting into a writing mood + general tips i give to new writers and if you still need further help you can explain what exactly you're struggling with and ill do my best to help out;

1) whatever you learned about formatting essays; forget it.

a common thing i see in new writers is they try to write it like an essay. which isn't a bad idea really, but it is restricting. your paragraphs don't have to be four or more sentences. they can only be one if you want. it's your story, format it however you want. you don't need to follow rules

2) listening to music

this is mostly for when you have that one specific scene in your head but have no idea what to do for the rest of the fic. listening to music and connecting the lyrics to the characters you're using is a great way to get your mind thinking. one song can give you several different ideas depending on how you interpret it

3) make sure you are in a good mood

personally, i cannot write to save my life if im upset or just generally having a bad day. i know some people can use creating as a way to cheer themselves up, but it just doesn't work out for me lol

4) if you don't need background noise, don't use it

it's pretty easy to get distracted when writing, especially when you have something new playing. if you do need background noise of some kind, i would advise playing instrumental music or that one movie/show that you've seen a thousand times and could quote in your sleep. keep your focus on your writing

5) brackets will be your best fucking friend when writing

one of the most important things about writing is keeping your flow going. if you find yourself writing sentence after sentence for a good while and then you suddenly hit a stop because you don't know how to word what happens next; throw it in brackets and write the scene after it. its the same reason why you're told to skip questions you get stuck on when taking a test. let your brain do what it knows it can and come back to the tricky stuff later.

6) you don't have to write anything in order

you don't have to write a story exactly start to finish. you can jump between any scene you'd like and find out how to connect it to a different scene another time. this kinda ties into the last tip in the sense that you gotta let your brain do what it knows. if you only know the beginning and the end then write those first and figure out the rest as you go. if you need to edit either one of the previous things then that's okay. there's no shame in changing things around, it's just how creating things go. sometimes change is needed

7) writing prompts

for new writers, i like to tell them to find a prompt online to write a story for before they start their own. using a prompt someone else made keeps your brain from getting overwhelmed, allowing you to focus more on finding a writing style that works best for you. using writing prompts also lets your brain find ways to contribute to a story without having it make everything while also figuring out how to put it on paper. it's easy to overwhelm the brain, so let it get used to writing before you start creating your own ideas. (this is also something i advise to people who experience burnout or just cant think of anything to write. your brain just needs a break from creating ideas right now, go and find a prompt for it)

8) word count

listen to me because this is so important; ignore the word count. you need to focus on learning, not how much you're writing. it doesn't matter if you only wrote 50 words when other people have fics well over 50k. ignore it. you are learning, you'll get there eventually. if you focus too much on how much you're writing you're going to stress yourself out and ultimately drive yourself away from ever writing again. treat word counts as milestones. start with 50, then 100, then 150, then 200, etc. let yourself work towards it slowly rather than push yourself too hard right out the gate. you can't expect to draw the mona lisa the first time you put a pencil to a paper, so don't expect to write thousands of words the first time you write a story. it'll take time, and that's perfectly okay.

9) analyze the shit out of your characters

this is easier when writing fanfiction, but take a few hours to learn your characters. find the content they're in and hyper-focus on what they're doing. pay attention to their speech patterns, their body language, their relationships with others, etc. if they're not in a scene, try to imagine they are and what'd they do and/or say if they were. it'll help out with keeping them in character when writing

10) if you get to a point where you can't write anymore even when using brackets; stop writing for the day

we have our limits. you will get to a point where you can't get another word down and that's okay. it doesn't matter if you've only written a handful of words, close your program and wait until you feel motivation hit you again. if you keep trying to force yourself to write when you just can't then you're going to burn yourself out. the most probable reason for this is writer's block, which means you need to focus on other things for a while. give your brain time to recollect itself. it's annoying, i know, but it's better for you if you just let your brain do what it needs to. it knows how to take care of itself, so let it.

i also have a tag i use whenever i give tips, so you can check those out as well to see if anything helps! it's just writing tips

[cunttruck]

I've read your addition to your post about the fatphobia and ableism inherent in Wall-E. In the last sentence, you say something like "I could go on about how I'd fix [the film] but this post is getting too long."

If you haven't done so already, could you please post your thoughts about how you, personally, would rewrite Wall-E to get rid of the fatphobia and ableism? And also, do you know of any similar media that gets its messages across in a better way?

(this two month old ask references this three month old post)

thanks for writing in corey. hmm. good questions all around. lemme throw this under a readmore

unfortunately, having fat characters/actors in sci-fi is pretty rare. falls into the (bullshit and lazily written) presumption that characters can't do sick stunts or action shit if they're quote unquote overweight. if anyone can dispute this or has evidence against the contrary id love to hear some suggestions. if not for me for people like me who're looking to get into that type of thing

as for the first part of your question: ive been thinking about this for a while. there's a pretty big difference between what id like to write in order to make a compelling story and what would be easy to portray/fit into a movie-length easily digestible childrens movie, if that makes sense

seeing as wall-e is a movie about life, id like to see the humans on the axiom be given a bigger role. as of now, they're pretty heavily sidelined and reduced to fat jokes (even the captain, who's name is forgettable even if his personality and role isn't). wall-e is a product of its time; one of the first "big things" that had a strong concept of a post-capitalism ecological apocalypse (ironic now from the minds of disneypixar).

something that has definitely been left untouched in mainstream movies of this type is how capitalism and the government fucks over disabled people, and centering a concept around this idea without portraying people who use disability aids as lazy and privileged could be interesting i feel like.

i'm not entirely sure how this could be done, ill admit. im not a film student i do pixel art and reblog other peoples posts. but i'd really like to see someone smarter than me try. wall-e is a movie that's extremely dependent on the cute robots to do the heavy lifting moral-wise, so squeezing in anything apart from that while appealing to the disney audience would be difficult.

what i'd do personally is turn the inside of the axiom into a work of art.

700 years is a long ass time. the nature of humanity is to create. wall-e failed hard in that regard, showing us a snapshot of a miserable looking world where "everyone got dependent on technology to cater to their every need until they couldnt even move for themselves". that sucks balls and i dont agree with it at all LMAO. humans will always have a sense of boredom, a sense of drive. there will always be people who want change, who need something different that their environment can't provide for them. and it'd be up to them and their community to provide that change, not just the robots.

the beginning of wall-e sets up the idea that the affluent plan on leaving earth on spaceships to escape the trash-ridden world. a small scene with an ad showing the sad minimalist inside of one of these ships would be enough to introduce the idea of a boring cruise ship into peoples minds. i really enjoy the idea of contradicting this as soon as he makes it to the axiom: the doors, white and boring on the outside, open up into a brilliantly colorful banner-ridden repurposed hub for creativity. it would still scratch that "this place is so much different/cleaner than what wall-e is used to" itch that they attempted to do through the clean and sad capitalist hellscape they threw us ass backwards into

and to really answer the question you originally asked: i would show how humans on the axiom live. there's plenty of scenes of storybuilding showing how everybody brainlessly lived in these conditions for hundreds of years; i would replace those scenes with showing how people have changed the axiom since it's launch. and instead of relying on how it changed everyone to look like the same unoriginal blob, i'd highlight the differences between everyone. ways of life that would be necessary in order to live in such an environment.

people who have named their own accessibility robots and customized them, people of all different body types. people who need canes, people who prefer the chairs. lifts with space for hoverchairs, benches and rest stops and signs about how to exercise properly without hurting yourself in gyms. people walking with difficulty, people of different ages, people who've identified others as friends and family who can help out with their disabilities. people who are actually human rather than props, you know? if you think that's too much to ask for or unrealistic fuck off, cities are like this every single fucking day. go outside and admire the strangers in your everyday life.

it would still scratch the itch of "everyones mindset has changed" without it being "everyones mindset has changed for the worst". wall-e is about hope, goddamn it, where's the fucking hope for humanity?

there's still innovators, there's still scientists, there's still people with fucking hobbies and honestly it's disrespectful to think that nobody would know about how life used to be on earth. there's still going to be historians, there's going to be people who want to help those around them, theres going to be people who want better for themselves and others. 700 years is an insane amount of time. god damn.

ok tldr cause i went off again: the way id rewrite wall-e to combat the rampant fatphobia and ableism is not by removing the reliance on mobility aids and fat body types, but by normalizing and highlighting the everyday use of mobility aids and showing the different lifestyles different people partake in day-to-day. basically doing the opposite that wall-e did for us. i know for a fact that there is absolutely no way that every human in a ship of a few thousand would all have the exact same mindset, all id do is highlight these differences and show how things have changed for the better since the capitalists who made their prison died out. yknow

it mightve been too much to ask for in 2008 and itd probably be labelled by way too woke for people with no brains but that's what i've got

thats it thanks

[basiatlu]

Thanks for tagging me @lqtraintracks and @goblinmatriarch 🤭💖✨

-Three Ships-: ok so last time I avoided hp ships so let’s make them all hp-centric! I mean Drarry as an easy shot, then there’s Wolfstar (but it always makes me really sad so only little nibbles), and finally Ginny serves as my village bicycle where I enjoy her paired with almost anyone I deem compatible as I want to see her thriving in life and experiencing fun and safe partners and finding herself etc etc I adore her. How’s that for a run-on sentence?

-First Ship-: was totally SasuSaku which was then a gateway drug to shipping the angsty boy with Naruto because early internet image searches, man.

-Last Song-: “Blue Spotted Tail” by Fleet Foxes

-Last Movie-: Gunpowder Milkshake - so good about 8/10 for me!

-Currently Reading-: reading through my paired fics for the upcoming Big Bang fest

-Last Thing I Wrote Drew-: yesterday’s drawtober prompt

-Currently Writing Drawing-: today’s drawtober prompt (totally not even procrastinating - not even a little bit)

-Are you named after anyone?-: I am! There’s the Polish jazz singer, Basia Trzetrzelewska. My mom is a big fan hehehe

-Favorite Subject in School-: History! Ancient history specifically

-Do you have kids?-: No, but I do have a circus of cats. They’re currently on a diet and have made the last month a terrible time for my sleep health lolz

-When was the last time you cried?-: so I have overactive tear ducts? So if I laugh I cry and I usually hit a breaking point everyday where I laugh hysterically at something. Today it was a sticker order a customer at work had ordered of an ms paint tracing of a Scooby-Doo ai splice gen where Scooby is eating the Mystery Gang in a giant hoagie sandwich. Yeah. Me and my co workers printed it out to pin to the wall as I cry/laugh/sobbed at my desk.

-Do you use sarcasm a lot?-: Yes but also no but also I just make fun of myself constantly and intentionally act stupid. It’s a great ploy to get others to lower their defenses around you. Not out of malicious intent, just I don’t take myself too seriously in order to save that energy for when it matters. Like when I have to intensely support my friends and partner with very serious-mode love and affection. … this doesn’t make any sense.

-What sports do you play/have played?-: soccer, softball, and swim <— I hate competitive sports and never stuck with them long than a year or I just was a filthy casual doing summer seasons/clubs. I’m more of a hiker and leisure gal.

-What’s the first thing you notice about people?-: the way they hold their shoulders and hands, secondary is their eyebrows and nose. It’s all demeanor and posture for me.

-Any special talents?-: gosh um I can cook really well. Honestly I don’t like eating out and neither does my partner because we turn to each other after and go “Eh it was ok but…” and wish I had done it at home instead. I can fold and make odd shapes with my tongue, can crinkle my fingers in odd ways (double jointed, but they lock badly so no thank you), and I can do some fucking weird voices/imitations but I chicken out in front of others beyond like 3 people, unfortunately for those 3

-Where we’re you born?-: Canada

-What are your hobbies?-: video games, tarot card readings, cooking, drawingdrawingdrawing, and reading

-How tall are you?-: I hover somewhere between 5’6” and 5’7”

-Dream Job-: comic artist / self-employed artist with occasional contract work for publishing/movies. I think if I could completely support myself and have a savings with a Patreon or the like that would make me so accomplished and at ease.

Ok enough of that!! I tag people now, yeah? @mono-chromia @hihimissamericanbi @littlewinnow

[rancidtae]

NAERI STATION: INTERLUDE - CHAPTER ONE

Genre: fluff, angst, coming of age au. mafia au. Warnings: none yet Pairing: bts & Original Female Character (Jung Jiah) - Jeon Jungkook/OFC - Kim Namjoon/OFC Summary: the one where Jungkook imprints on a strange girl and Jin hopes they don't regret this

"It's freezing out here. Get in the car." Yoongi ordered, holding his 22 with both hands. Jimin's wide eyes were fixed on the side of the road, not too far from Jungkook. "Guys…" Several red spots disturbed the clean untouched snow, like cherry syrup on shaved ice. They weren't large or deep, but the contrast called for the eye.  The realization hit them all at once, Jungkook was the first to connect the dots. Taehyung was stuck in his spot. "Whoa. This is exactly how horror movies start." "Everyone, get in the car— Jesus fucking Christ, Jungkook!" By the time Yoongi was done with that sentence Jungkook had already sprinted past the line of bushes, disappearing into the darkness of the woods. "And now we're splitting up. Classic."

Jungkook was always drawn to heights.

It started with his dad holding him up as a baby, lifting him high enough to get a close look at the peculiar texture of his childhood home's popcorn ceilings. Whether it was scalding the scorching metal slide at the park, the oldest and sturdiest tree he could find, or the climbing walls at the indoor playground, he grew up seeking that thrill he was introduced to as a child, never quite sated.

Now he was old enough to exchange plaster ceilings for expansive night skies, and trees for the lofty water tower of Songju. No safety straps or helmet to hinder him, away from his mother's watchful gaze. She had enough on her plate without him adding to her worries. 

With Yoongi around he still got nagged at from time to time, though he was less focused on his safety and more fixated on the structural integrity of the convenience store’s roof at Naeri Gas Station.

This was one of the good spots. The entire town expanded before him—the train rails, the middle school he had attended as a child, the river bank, and the bridge. The fluffy snowy woods, the moon, the stars, the mountains, and the smoke. The distant glow of Seoul's lights illuminated the night sky.

Jungkook took a deep breath and wrapped his hands around his to-go cup of hot moka.

He appreciated the crisp wind and the alone time. Just because he was an adrenaline junkie didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the peace and quiet. Content, he filled his lungs with a deep breath and went for a short sip.

A rapid double-take mid-sip and he immediately paid the price of not blowing on the scalding liquid. A string of curses erupted from his lips as pain surged through his body, prompting him to turn away from the source of his agony.

Smoke?

And that's when he spotted it—a radiant orange mushroom in the sky.

A muted gasp escaped his lips as he blinked, making sure he wasn't hallucinating or trapped in a dream. No eyesight damage could conjure that big of a fire in the middle of the night.

His sense of direction rarely failed him. He knew exactly where it came from.

Dust cascaded from the discolored cardboard ceiling panel, landing on his keyboard.

Glaring up, Min Yoongi wondered why Jungkook insisted on stomping around the roof and considered going up and giving him an earful.

However, time was a luxury he lacked.

It was late, and he was juggling a ridiculous number of open tabs on his screen, each one vital to his work. A frustrating detail drawing stubbornly eluded him, and he was pretty sure that, any second now, his mouse wheel would die on him. 

He’d much rather be seated comfortably in his chair at home, not behind this crappy counter, constantly interrupted by the occasional customer looking for dumb shit they could get anywhere else; gum, condoms, or cigarettes. Unfortunately, Namjoon needed someone to cover this shift for him, and Jimin and Taehyung had proven themselves untrustworthy when it came to handling the gas station by themselves.

On the bright side, a reliable source of shitty yet surprisingly effective gas station coffee sat within reach. Whatever they put in that concoction had been making his left eye twitch and his heart beat funny for the past twenty minutes. With a sigh, he donned his headphones, stretched his fingers, and decided to pay no mind to the fact that he was probably tweaking off caffeine or the possibility of Jungkook battling the ever-elusive gang of raccoons up there all by himself.

After all, the kid didn't have any imminent deadlines or a scholarship to win.

And then, without warning, some asshole forcefully swung open the door, causing his travel cup to perilously flirt with the edge of his keyboard. 

That was the final straw.

Yoongi yanked off his headphones, ready to throw someone out, only to be met with the wide-eyed gaze of the wide-eyed boy frozen in an NPC-like pose.

"What’s wrong with you?"

"There's a fire. I think it's Hwacheon." Jungkook blurted out so fast Yoongi could barely make out the words.

"What?"

Jimin and Taehyung barged in with a similar lack of consideration for the door's frailty.

"Did you guys hear that?"

Yoongi's irritation only grew, suspecting some kind of shitty joke. "Hear what?"

"Hyung," Jimin stared at him in disbelief. "Did you really not hear it? It sounded like a missile landing."

Yoongi knew that Jimin had never heard a missile landing in his life. 

Furthermore, if the North decided to attack during a random Tuesday night, they wouldn't target a small town with a population of less than 20,000 when Seoul loomed nearby. He approached the glass facing the street, rising onto his tiptoes to peer over the soju advertisement decal.

A lovely ember glow illuminated the sky.

Looking over his shoulder, Taehyung began to panic, hands entangled in his hair. "What if we’re under attack?"

Without uttering a word, Yoongi swiftly made his way behind the counter, saved his progress, closed the laptop, and seized the keys.

"Hyung—"

"One of you call 119."

Songju wasn’t under attack, that much was obvious. Hwacheon Women's Correctional Institution loomed before them. 

The once bustling facility now stood engulfed in smoke and fire, casting a glow across the winter landscape. More eerie than lovely from up close.

"Damn," Jimin cursed, his words weighed down by a mix of shock and disbelief. 

"Why aren’t the firefighters here yet?" 

An old lady overheard their conversation and turned to face them. "It's the fire department's anniversary today," she explained. "They booked Chonda's beer house."

Taehyung’s hand went to cover his mouth. That was terrible timing, and it painted at even more hopeless picture.

The woman shook her head. "They're probably still trying to drag them out of the karaoke booth."

It took no time for a crowd to gather. Living in a small town with not much going on, the people of Songju were naturally known for their nosiness but also their kind-heartedness. They came ready to lend a hand. However, they were also proud dissenters, so the general reaction to the cops prohibiting anyone from crossing the gates to assist in the absence of the firefighters was predictably not great.

"But why are they taping up the place instead of helping?" Jungkook glared at a passing cop widening the perimeter, his frustration mounting.

Meanwhile, Yoongi engaged in a tense conversation with the officers. They offered the same explanation to everyone: the federal authorities had jurisdiction over the situation, and they were not allowed to enter the facility. The lack of action infuriated him. What were the people inside supposed to do, hold their breath and wait?

Just when the tension threatened to rise to a confrontation between cops and civilians, a fleet of black SUVs pulled up to the scene, Taehyung caught sight of them first and immediately hit Jimin’s chest with the back of his hand to get his attention.

Men dressed in suits, devoid of any identification, emerged from the vehicles, diverting the crowd’s attention. Crisp haircuts, shiny shoes, IEMs on their ears, take-no-shit demeanors. Their presence raised eyebrows in no time, and people started to retreat.

"Cavalry's out," Jimin muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning them subtly.

Taehyung nodded, counting up to at least eight more men fitting the same description. One of them approached a lonely reporter. Back up in place, the police officers kept expanding the perimeter, instructing people to move their cars and urging everyone to leave the scene for safety concerns.

Next to them, Jungkook stood quietly, in a world of his own. The fire reflected on his face and made him appear younger than he actually was.

Noticing him, Jimin and Taehyung shared the same look of concern.

"Hyung," Taehyung's deep voice caught Yoongi's attention. He’d found a spot with the group of disapproving dads assessing the situation with their hands on their waists. "Jungkookie left his inhaler back at the station. We should go."

Yoongi tilted his head, understanding the unspoken message. Whatever the old cop he was arguing with earlier said to him as he walked past was drowned out by the blaring sound of the fire brigade pulling up, followed by three ambulances.

Inside the truck, driving back to Naeri, no one dared speak a word until they put enough distance between them and Hwacheon.

"What was that?" 

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Yoongi said, his lips pressed together tightly. "Tell Namjoon and Hoseok to stay in the city tonight."

"They must be on their way by now"

"Then tell them to turn back."

Jungkook had a barrage of questions stuck in his throat, but his pride urged him to swallow them down.

"So, are we going to talk about that?" Jimin asked from the backseat, peering out the window, his fingers tapping his lip.

"What if it's a terrorist attack?" 

Yoongi shook his head, veering off the highway and opting for the unpaved road that led home. Something must have felt truly off for them not to return to the gas station. Jungkook realized in their haste to leave, he had left his laptop behind. 

"Those weren't counterterrorism guys."

"You recognized them? Who were they?" Taehyung asked, gripping the back of the driver seat.

"No, but I know they were there to keep people away from the scene," Yoongi replied.

Jungkook scoffed to himself. If something behind those gates was important enough to summon high-level federal agents, there wouldn't be much left of it now. He thought of all the people trapped inside and slumped against the passenger seat. 

Fire was a terrible way to go, to have someone taken away from you.

The ride home would take longer than usual since the snow chains on the tires limited their speed. 

And this meant that when Jungkook spotted something in the middle of the road where the snow remained undisturbed, Yoongi absolutely noticed it as well.

He gave him a quick side eye  "You see that?" 

Jungkook nodded, his face set in a firm frown, hand shooting to the door handle.

Jimin peered between their seats."See what?"

"Hyung, stop the car."

Jimin clicked his tongue at Jungkook "No way, did you see how they looked at us? I wouldn't be surprised if they were tailing us."

Yoongi spared Jungkokg another quick glance before slowly bringing the truck to a halt. 

Jungkook jumped out before they even came to a complete stop, much to his annoyance. 

"Hey, wait a second," Yoongi called after him.

"What's wrong with him?" Taehyung complained.

Ignoring them, Jungkook made his way back along the tire tracks, wordlessly turning on his phone lantern.

Undeterred by Jimin's nagging in his ear about listening to the kid in the first place. Yoongi put the truck in reverse and followed him slowly.

"You know there are wild boars in these woods, right?" Taehyung called out, his head out of the window, eyeing the towering trees above. "I heard they hunt at night."

Jungkook had finally stopped, crouching down before turning to face them.

Yoongi squinted at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he looked small standing in the middle of the narrow road, nothing but darkness behind him. The stillness of the empty road, the white noise of the radio and the hum of the engine made him decide that he did not like any of it. Jimin was right, he shouldn’t have stopped.

He grabbed his 22 and jumped down from the truck. 

"I seriously read that they're active at night, hyung," Taehyung insisted, cursing under his breath when Jimin joined Yoongi, leaving him with no choice but to abandon the warmth of the truck as well.

"Hey," Yoongi barked. "Put that thing down." 

"It's a scalpel, hyung." Jungkook said, looking down at the object in his hand.

"That's great. Jin hyung can get you a new one. It's freezing out here. Get in the car."

"Guys…"

Jimin's wide eyes were fixed on the side of the road, not too far from Jungkook.

Several red spots disturbed the clean untouched snow, like cherry syrup on shaved ice. They weren't large or deep, but the contrast called for the eye. 

The realization hit them all at once, but Jungkook was the first to connect the dots.

Taehyung was stuck in his spot.

"Whoa. This is exactly how horror movies start."

"Everyone, get in the car— Jesus fucking Christ, Jungkook!"

By the time Yoongi was done with that sentence Jungkook had already sprinted past the line of bushes, disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

"And now we're splitting up. Classic."

No tire trails to speed through or the truck's lights to show him the way, trudging through the snow was proving to be difficult, but Junkook knew he’d be alright as long as he could hear Jimin complaining behind him, or on his right, it was hard to tell from the echo. 

Whoever had dropped the scalpel wouldn't make it in these woods if they were bleeding.

Every intake of breath froze up his lungs, and every puff he let out clouded his already poor vision. He slowed down his steps and focused on his surroundings as much as his phone's flashlight allowed, killing an incoming call from Yoongi before his ringtone could go off.

A few more heavy steps in, frustration began to settle. He could hear some kind of bird nearby, and perhaps he was imagining things, but he could feel its beady eyes looking down at him. 

Jimin had gone quiet, but he still carried on.

Then his boot hit something. 

He didn't get to look down but instinct told him not to step on whatever it was. Out of balance, he shook his arms in the air and bent forward and back until he ultimately plopped face-first into the snow. The cold took no time to go past his sweater and jacket.

He pulled his phone out of the snow.

Blotches of white or yellow and red covered her face, and her lips were tainted blue. A sick amount of skin was exposed—legs, arms, neck. Nothing but a thin baby blue gown rode up to her knees. 

She had no shoes on. 

The scream ripped through his chest. "Hyung! Hel—"

A hand covered his mouth. Taehyung hissed at him. "Do you want everyone in a 10-mile radius to hear you?"

“Is she dead?" Jimin stuttered, his hands swatting in the air for balance. "She's practically naked."

"No way she's alive," Taehyung mumbled, finally releasing him. Jungkook couldn't move or disagree with him, even though he wanted to. "She looks like a blueberry popsicle, wh—"

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare?" Yoongi snapped, already ripping off his jacket "Move, you fucking pussies."

Jimin groaned and closed her eyes at the feel of her shoulder blades. It reminded him of the time his cat died when he was in middle school. Yoongi put the jacket over her in a sad effort to cover her.

Taehyung did the same, eyes terrified, lips trembling. "I think– I think she's dead."

Jungkook could still do nothing but stare at her. He knew he’d have a hard time forgetting the image of her frostbitten fingers and purple-green lips up close. She couldn’t, right? Human bodies were made to be resilient. She was definitely running through the woods. She must have fallen and hit her head or something, and that meant she had some fight in her, right? She definitely wanted to live.

"Jungkook, shut up and help us," Yoongi barked, snapping him out of it. His body reacted to the order before his mind could catch up, and he just... got to it. 

Despite her lightweight appearance and their combined efforts, it was a challenge to move an unconscious body through the snow. He held onto her calves and prayed—something he rarely did, not since his father died—that she wouldn't snap in two like a twig.

Jimin looked like he wanted to throw up, while Taehyung kept mumbling about how he might be having a nightmare. After some deliberation about how and where to place her, they managed to put her in the back seat. Jungkook went in first, with her back on his lap and the rest of her body on Taehyung's.

No one talked about what was going on or what they were going to do next with the unconscious girl. Yoongi made a harsh U-turn, stomped on the gas, and Jimin had Jin on speaker in no time. Taehyung took off his sweater to put another layer on top of her.

"No. She's just… uh–." Jimin looked at them over his shoulder. "Is she breathing?"

Taehyung and Jungkook shared a panicked look. "I don't think so. No, I don't... she's not."

Frows burrowed and eyes stuck on the road, Yoongi had a firm grip on the steering wheel. Jin's leveled tone as he asked if anyone in the car knew how to do CPR cut through the tense atmosphere. Jungkook felt some relief in his chest, knowing that he was aware of the situation at hand, but he still stuttered when he mentioned that he had learned the basics in summer camp.

"Ok, Jungkook, that’s good. I need you to do—"

"But that was like... five years ago, I think."

Jin paused.

"Yoongi, you guys should really call an ambulance."

Yoongi disagreed. It was only a 10-minute drive, and with the cops all over Hwacheon he could make it 5.

"We're not that far, I'm going as fast as I can. All ambulances are in Hwacheon right now anyway."

Jungkook did his best to ignore Yoongi’s speeding, the way the truck vibrated with every click of the wheel turning, and the white blur of trees passing by. He did his best to ignore how she felt on his lap, how she didn’t react when he shook her or how Taehyung pinched her legs, how Yoongi breathed shallowly, and how Jin’s calm instructions turned more into a steady stream of reassurances.

“Keep your hand on her chest and check if it’s moving with your breathing.”

He did.

“Pinch her arm, and squeeze her knuckles.”

Nothing

“Check inside her mouth. Get the car warm, don’t move her too much" Jin instructed, and they all cringed knowing that they dropped her about three times and hit her head with the door before getting her in the truck "Do you see anything obstructing the mouth or nose? Blood, vomit, any loose teeth?"

"No." At least the inside of her mouth was warm, Jungkook thought. Any other time he would have felt disgusting for touching a stranger's mouth like this, but he was out of touch with the sentiment.

"Good. We're doing 30 compressions and two rescue breaths, fingers interlocked and centered on the chest. Don't be afraid to push deep, but give it some time to rise back up. Keep doing that until you guys get here. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay. I'll count with you."

Soon she was covered in about three layers of sweaters. Taehyung even put Hoseok's favorite beanie on her feet like some kind of makeshift sock while he followed the rhythm set by Jin. He leaned forward, pinched her nose, and pushed air through the girl's mouth.

Blue and red lights glared at them from a distance. A line of cars stretched as far as Yoongi could see. He thought it might be an accident, but luck wasn't on their side tonight.

"These assholes" Yoongi hissed.

A traffic stop had been set up, likely by the same or a different fleet of black SUVs from Hwacheon. They had no choice but to join the unmoving line of cars, hoping they wouldn't be subjected to any inspection.

"Ah, hyung, we're gonna have to put you on mute," Jimin said, a huff of air rushing out of the still-unresponsive girl's mouth, followed by more thuds. Jimin feared he might break her ribs. "Kook—"

Despite the tension and the impending approach, they went on. Even though they were shielded from the blue and red lights behind the driver's seat, anyone approaching Yoongi's window might catch a glimpse of what was happening in the backseat. 

There was an unspoken agreement. They could not, under any circumstances, let these men see the girl.

One of them by the side of the road flashed his light at them, signaling them to stop. Jimin gulped loudly, Yoongi took a deep breath, and Taehyung slapped Jungkook's hands away, throwing something over her face and chest. 

Yoongi rolled down the window slowly. Silently, with cold faces, everyone prayed.

"Evening, gentlemen. Can I see some ID?" the man asked.

"Sure thing," Yoongi said, pulling out his wallet. "Is there a problem?"

"Just routine," he replied, returning the ID to Yoongi's hand. He shone his flashlight inside, briefly blinding Jungkook, which made Taehyung snicker at his reaction. "Mind if I take a look around?"

Jimin thought he might pass out right there, but he managed to remain composed. All of them did.

"Yeah, sure. No problem, do I pull over or–"

"Min Yoongi, I thought I told you guys to go home."

And at that moment, the old cop from earlier became a beacon of hope, appearing out of nowhere with his thumbs hooked on his vest, acting as if he held some authoritative power. Yoongi sighed, giving the fed a tired look.

"Someone has to close up the gas station, officer."

"I thought you guys were open 24 hours. Does your boss know you're taking liberties with the schedule?"

Jimin held back a smirk, not because he had fully recovered from the near heart attack moments ago, but because he knew Yoongi was working his way through this, resting his elbow on the edge of the window. Professional bullshitter.

"Don't think there'll be a line tonight for gasoline with Hwacheon all torched up. He'd understand."

"You think so, huh?" the officer leaned his head in, flashlight scanning the inside of the truck. "Make sure to drop these kids off. I better not see you with any paint on those hands, Taehyung."

Another fed called the first one over, and the two in the back subtly followed him with eager eyes as he trotted away. Taehyung put a hand over his heart, coming down from the rush.

"Never again, Officer Han."

They smoothly merged back into the moving line of vehicles, gradually picking up speed as they put enough distance between the stop and themselves. 

Jimin slumped against the passenger seat. "Fuck. What the fuck? We owe that old man, big time."

"No, we don't," Yoongi replied, speeding past a blinking green light.

"Hyung, he just saved our asses—"

"He was saving his own ass. He comes by the station and buys a fuckton of weed every month," Yoongi explained. Taehyung was invested, his eyes wide, his mouth agape. "His wife has arthritis, it's really bad. I think he extracts the oil himself."

"Oh– that sucks. Poor woman."

"But thank fuck for arthritis," Yoongi said.

"Thank fuck for arthritis," they echoed.

Lost in the conversation, Jungkook looked up at Taehyung with wide eyes. There was a thump under his fingers where he had pressed them against the underside of the girl's jaw. It was barely noticeable, reminding him of the baby birds he had tried to save when they fell from their nests after a rainstorm when he was a kid. He could never save a single one, no matter how hard he tried.

"There's a pulse," he said. "I can feel it. There's a pulse."

"Put your seatbelts on," Yoongi ordered and stomped on the gas pedal.

Something about Seokjin changed when he put on his uniform. It was unsettling coming from the guy Jungkook could usually read so easily.

"Sit down, will you? You're making me dizzy," Jimin complained, closing his eyes and resting his head on Taehyung's shoulder.

An influx of people took over the waiting room as ambulances came and went. Word was that they were still dealing with the fire in Hwacheon. The fire had made national news, and helicopters were currently flying over the area. It was a grim situation.

"So, how bad is it?" Yoongi asked.

Jin took a short breath, pocketing his phone and not bothering to lock the office door behind him. No one in the hospital would walk in without knocking.

"Are you referring to the national tragedy unfolding out there, or the unconscious girl connected to the ECMO machine?"

Yoongi dropped his head. "Sorry, hyung, we had no one else to call."

"No, don’t mind me, it’s a rough night– you did well bringing her here. She’s suffering from severe hypothermia, it's bad."

"But is it like... chop a few fingers off bad or..." Taehyung trailed off, hanging his head to the side with a short guttural sound. "...bad?"

"Her fingers weren’t black," Jungkook corrected him. "Limb amputation is usually required for deep frostbite.”

"I think we can trust the professionals to make that decision."

"Yes, but I just read about it. People only lose limbs when they have deep frostbite, and her fingers were just red, so—"

"Well, that's great. Jungkookie just got his Ph.D. in the stages of frostbite from the University of Naver.” Jimin blurted out.

Yoongi crossed his arms, paying them no mind. “Hyung, do you think she'll make it?"

"You're right, Jungkook. She has symptoms of mild frostbite, it’s unlikely that amputation will be required,," Jin said, Jungkook gave Jimin a mocking look "She likely experienced cardiac arrest before you found her, so you guys saved a life tonight. You guys did well."

"But there's still a chance she..." Yoongi's words trailed off, uncertainty lingering in the air.

"Yes, she's currently in critical condition," Jin confirmed, with no particular emotion, just exhaustion weighing his features. 

"So maybe we didn't save a life tonight. Let's not spread false hope," Taehyung interjected.

"Hey, you punk, I was only trying to be optimistic,"

"I know, hyung, but let's not raise Jungkook's expectations unnecessarily," Jimin responded.

“My expectations? You mean that I don’t like the idea of someone dying?”

“No, Kookie, I mean that you kind of imprinted on her and I don’t want you to be heartbroken,”

"I didn't– imprint? What’s wrong with you?" Jungkook protested loudly.

"You mean like in Twilight?" Jin quipped.

"I did not imprint," Jungkook insisted firmly, pointedly looking at the eldest.

Yoongi cut them off, pinching his nose "Okay. Yes. I mean no, you didn't, Jungkook. We know. Hyung, what's it look like to you? Does she have a chance?"

Jin explained as much as he could. They were currently pulling the blood out of her body, warming it up, and pumping it back in. He assured them that his father had called in a good friend, one of Seoul's most sought-after cardiologists. They were following his orders until he arrived.

"Your father's here?" Jimin questioned, surprised.

"He came as soon as he heard about the situation in Hwacheon. It's not every day that we see unresponsive hypothermia cases in the ER, so he wanted to see it for himself.” he paused, suspicion lingering in his eyes. “What happened?” 

He didn't buy the story about them stumbling upon a stranger in the middle of nowhere. Jungkook squirmed restlessly under his questioning eyes, and Taehyung and Jimin turned to Yoongi for answers.

"Whatever this is, you don't have to worry about me. But my father will see through the bullshit," Jin warned them. "So just be honest with me. I'll figure things out with him."

"If this is about insurance—" 

"Don't be ridiculous," Jin interjected, scolding Yoongi sternly. "Did you think you could simply drop someone off in that condition without raising eyebrows?"

The nurses would talk, and Dr. Byun would surely want to discuss it with his father once he took a look at her. Songju was a small town, rumors spread fast. It could potentially get buried under the chaos caused by the Hwacheon incident, but Jin needed to make sure he knew the whole situation.

"Well, I think our honest expectation was to get her professional help."

"And she's getting it. Don't get smart with me, Taehyung.” He was annoyed now, crossing his arms and turning to Yoongi, disregarding the younger ones. “Is this one of Kim Giseok's girls?"

"What? No. Hyung, what?"

"So you do know—"

"Hyung, we seriously don't know. Jungkook found her in the middle of the woods, we couldn't just leave her there."

"She had a scalpel, and there was blood on it," Jungkook added, like that one detail would be of any help "But I don't think it was hers. I think she was running away from something."

"Figures," Jin sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"The girl is deaf. Her transmitter is missing, not to mention the fact that she's branded. So if this is Namjoon making a move, then I'd appreciate some honesty here. I'm not asking because I want to know, but it might help us get her the help—"

A sudden knock on the door jolted the room into silence. The four of them exchanged anxious glances, their mouths opening and closing like fish gasping for air. Jin cautiously opened the door, peeking outside with a polite greeting at whoever was on the other side.

It was a woman, young by the sound of her voice. "Intern Kim, we have some National Security Service men here. They want to talk to the director, but he's busy at the moment"

“Is Chief Park unavailable?”

“I think it might be best if you talked to them until Director Kim gets out of the OR”

"Okay, that might be a good idea. I– I'll talk to them. Just give me a second and I'll be right there." Jin closed the door behind him and raised his hand, signaling for them to wait before saying anything.

After a few tense seconds, and not without taking a peek at the corridor, he lowered his hand. "Listen, I need to go. I'll keep you updated, I’ll ask someone to find you a private room or an empty office."

"Hyung, can they sweep the place?" Jimin asked.

Jin hesitated, put off by the question. Four pale faces stared back at him, waiting. "What are you asking me?"

"It might not be good if someone finds out that she’s here.”

The implication seemed ridiculous, and in any other situation he’d laugh at it, but he’d heard the nurses talk, and he’d seen the girl with his own eyes. He found himself unable to dismiss their concern. At the same time, his own worries about the situation grew.

His headache returned at once. Jin could only hope that he wouldn’t regret his decision.

"I'll see what I can do."

[gilliesmemes]

𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃    !     /    sentence starters pulled from the 2015  movie ‘legend’ starring tom hardy .  some lines may have been edited for  better use,   change whatever you want to suit your character  interactions . trigger warning for general gangster activity . part four of four .

❛ she’s wearing black, that fucking bitch. ❜

❛ i see myself, i see what i could be... ❜

❛ are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this ? ❜

❛ i know love is not an answer to anything, but love is a witness -  ❜  

❛ fucking sing. ❜

❛ the pantheon has stood for 2,400 years. his promise to me ? it lasted two weeks. ❜

❛ you were drunk as a skunk waving around a shotgun.  ❜

❛ i spiced the evening up for everyone. ❜  

❛ you can’t even make a decent cup of tea -  ❜  

❛ you look like a budgie in that dress. ❜  

❛ the rag and bone man wouldn’t pick you up if you were laying in the gutter.  ❜  

❛ i left without saying goodbye ... it was a small, sad victory. ❜  

❛ sleeping pills help sometimes, other pills helped other times. ❜  

❛ they’re like a friend who holds no judgement and only want to be loved in return. ❜  

❛ mothers little helpers... very well named. ❜  

❛ i’ll fucking serve you up, you fucking cunt ! ❜  

❛ you fucking pain in the fucking arse and fuck your fucking brief case ! ❜  

❛ you can kill me and i can kill you, that way, we’re both fucking dead ! that’s a genius idea.  ❜  

❛ listen to yourself, you’re fucking nuts. ❜  

❛ people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. ❜    

❛ in our line of work, it’s not good to be famous. being anonymous is the goal. ❜  

❛ what exactly are you asking me to do ? ❜    

❛ there’s nothing i can do.  ❜  

❛ you say that one more time, i’m going to hit you. ❜    

❛ don’t say anything. it’s alright. ❜  

❛ can’t you handle it for yourself ?  ❜    

❛ you come in here with your fucking nose and your tea - your fucking exotic tea and you say that. ❜  

❛ this matter, i’ll deal with it for ya.  ❜    

❛ i didn’t say anything about killing anyone.  ❜

❛ there’s death in your eyes and you’re fucking threatening me ? ❜

❛ you’re not laughing now, are ya ? ❜

❛ are you mad ?  ❜

❛ don’t moan about it. it’s done now.  ❜

❛ you are fucking unbelievable.  ❜

❛ will you be useful for once and when you take off his shirt and trousers tonight, take ‘em out back and burn them.  ❜

❛ you got plenty of trouble if what they’re saying is true. ❜

❛ what about your loyalty to me is that not a measure ? ❜

❛ no wonder you’re not making any sense, you’re popping pills everywhere.  ❜

❛ what you’re saying is that in order for us to be free... we all have to be on our own ?  ❜

❛ fuck your mum ! ❜

❛ i wish i could make you go away. ❜

❛ it surprises me that some people still manage to survive these days. ❜

❛ it looks a bit fucking fucked to me, mate. ❜

❛ speaking of, you look like shit n’ all. ❜

❛ sometimes to achieve greatness, you have to cut off little pieces of yourself no matter how much it hurts, in order to grow, in order to move on. ❜

❛ to be honest, i think you’re getting out just in time. ❜

❛ sooner or later, someones going to talk and it’s going to all be over.  ❜

❛ i think god ought to cut us some slack, don’t you think ?  ❜

❛ that is bang out of order.  ❜

❛ we shall just have to see what happens when we get to heaven.  ❜

❛ you have the ability to see in to the future, the same as me.  ❜

❛ i haven’t seen you like this in a long time, i forgot how delicate you were.  ❜

❛ go inside and put the kettle on.  ❜

❛ i want you to remember that i existed - always, that i once walked beside you. ❜

❛ it’s something you say out of loyalty - to something that didn’t exist in the first place. ❜

❛ please let me make amends. please, please. ❜

❛ ibiza... let’s go there i like the way the word sounds. ❜

❛ god doesn’t ask if we accept this life. there is no choice, life is forced upon you. the only choice is how you live it... or not, that’s a choice as well. ❜

❛ a cup of tea can solve everything. a bit under the weather ? tea. you left your husband ? tea is the answer.  ❜

❛ god had finally cut me some slack.  ❜

❛ what do you do when the only person who could ever get to you is gone. cup of tea ? i don’t think so. ❜

❛ don’t stand around here like some sort of lamppost. ❜

❛ go on put it in your fucking pocket, we all know you ain’t got any money. don’t be daft. ❜

❛ you killed her and your hundred pound a week on flowers wont bring her back ! ❜

❛ before i talk, i want my safety guaranteed.  ❜

❛ oh, fuck off, soppy bollocks.  ❜

❛ cheer up, twinkle toes, its nearly christmas. ❜

❛ encase you haven't realized, i don’t fucking answer to you, sweetheart. ❜

❛ what the fuck were you thinking ?  ❜

❛ you got a tin of worms in your head, mate.  ❜

❛ you’ve got to be joking, are you fucking joking ? ❜

❛ go on, say her name again, say it - ❜

❛ why would you do that ?  ❜

❛ i can’t kill you. no matter how much i fucking want to. ❜

❛ what the fucks wrong with you ? you kill a geezer in a room full of people, are you fucking mad ? ❜

❛ the world is quite like london... it’s not good, it’s not bad - it just is. ❜

❛ it’s just your own lonely code, until your race is run. until the end. ❜

[hekaates]

open letter to ems (part ii) — @officialjimmybuffet

Hey bitch. Happy birthday

First time it’s just a letter, second it’s a pattern, how long until it counts as tradition?

Maybe it’s weird but I started to write this letter on December 13th, 2022. 179 days until your birthday but I felt the need to start writing this, felt the need to put my sentiments into words.

Yesterday I sent you 18 audios, several minutes each of course, explaining you in deep detail the plot of the first Avatar movie. I watched it alone after my mom went to sleep and to be frank Im kind of glad she did or else she’ll catch me crying over the scenery of a planet that doesn’t exist, from a movie that I’m pretty sure doesn’t pass the Belchdel test (update: it does not, everything is about Jake Sully and his terrible habits). It’s sitting in the bathroom floor all alone, waiting for people to stop screaming at each other that makes me realize how much I needed you in my life, how much I need, and will need someone who understands and compliments (as in complementary) me as well as you do. I like Avatar because I’m insane, but also because I see someone so lost and so insane in their own world they have to go literally to another planet to find a home, because somehow they do and I think, fuck maybe I could to. Looking back at it, the fact Jakes best friend is a short haired ginger scientist (healthcare science is a science right?) might make it even more close to home. (I hope in the end of this story, I don’t turn blue and you die and come back reincarnated as my daughter, but if you do it’d be hilarious and pretty on brand for us).

Everytime I remember you exist I am no longer alone. One time we were talking about the saints (this phrase in itself explains our relationship better than any other thing I can say here) and we said: I’d pick your saint if you pick mine. I remember the first time I wrote it, I looked at the screen, I looked at me and I looked at you (the only way I can, deep inside my mind) and I realize that with no other person this sentiment would make sense, no other person could I send a message at 22h explaining the in-depth history of Brazilian reality shows and make it so that I’m not insane or annoying or terrible, no other person would I search the deep webs of Wikipedia to find out what Saint was killed on June 10 (ps. It’s Saint Olivia, that’s my sisters name).

Saint Emma is the keeper of pharmacy, Saint Luisa the keeper of grief, somewhere along the lines God made it so we can meet and this would make a little bit too much sense.

I want to thank you for always holding my hand, even if have never touched, even if we never do. Times passed, I forget to write and now your birthday is in 4 days and now it is in 2 days and I find myself plagued by a loneliness only you can fill (I think this is the gayest sentence I’ve ever wrote and that’s saying something). Right now I look at the sun and it’s 4pm here so it means that in the other side of the world it’s 3pm and you are looking at the same sun, as the sunlight burns the right side of my face I can’t help but wonder if right now, in the other side of the hemisphere, it burns the left side of your face, that in the sunlight our faces meet and become one (again, really going for the gayness vibe rn).

The only future I am content with is the one I have you by my side, it’s the one I can call you to spend christmas with my family be it next to a British young star celebrity or not (but like if god wants him to spend several christmases with me then like I can’t say no right that’s on God not me right anyways I’m getting of track-) In the good ending it’s Christmas afternoon and I’m sitting by the pool showing you how to open an earl fruit or a persimmon while my siblings play with the speaker. In the good ending we’re in a club in New Jersey and I have no idea how to order a drink, in the good ending, when the movie is about to be done I grab your hand and say “hey.”

So, yeah.

Hey.

[bobateastay]

jugular - park seonghwa

ghost!park seonghwa x fem!reader

nsfw content - do not interact or read if you are under 18

tw - smut, horror, blood/blood play (do not take this warning lightly), temperature play, recurring nightmares, swearing, brief description of injury, implied character death, vomit in the last sentence

word count: 5.8k

this fic was written as a part of @tohokuu's halloween collab!

Stepping into the small house, you felt overcome with a sense of pride and relief. Sure, there was little to no furniture and the floor wasn’t exactly clean, but it was all yours. Your own house. Your own home.

You’d gotten it for an amazing price - it was a two bedroom house only a ten minute bus ride from the city center and had cost practically half the price of any other house in the area. There were no flaws - not with the electricity, piping or structure - nor was there any internal damage, so you hadn’t posed a single question to the estate agent who’d shown you around the house. You didn’t care too much as to why it was priced so low or why nobody else was trying to buy the house. It was already hard enough to find an affordable property, especially when you didn’t have much money saved up, so you weren’t going to make it any harder for yourself. No, you were happy to take any safe and sturdy property that you could afford. The fact that this house was gorgeous both inside and out was just an added bonus.

You set down your backpack full of essentials and looked around the small entryway, humming to yourself. There were a few boxes set down in front of the front door, each of them labelled with what was inside. They weren’t heavy and there weren’t many of them. Since you hadn’t had a space this big to yourself before you didn’t have many belongings to carry in either. You’d take care of that soon, you told yourself. But for the first afternoon, there were more important things to get done.

You fixed the lightbulbs in each room, put away your kitchen utensils and toiletries before carrying the boxes filled with your clothes and personal belongings one by one into your bedroom. You took a quick shower and made the bed afterwards, throwing yourself into the clean sheets and inhaling deeply. The flowery scent of fabric softener filled your nose and the familiar smell of your old apartment mixed with the smell of your new home - an odd mix of dust, cleaning products and blood.

Blood?

You sat up, narrowing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath through your nose. But the smell was gone, leaving behind only the smell of dust and cleaning products. You frowned, looking around the room to see if there was anything that might have given off the metallic smell, and found that there was nothing other than your cardboard boxes and a few things you’d already set down around the room. Whatever. Maybe the floor just needed cleaning.

You ordered takeout and spent the rest of the evening watching old movies on your phone, content to be by yourself in your own peaceful space. It was only when you were trying to sleep that the smell of blood filled your nose again, heavy in your nostrils each time you breathed in.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, pushing your face into your pillow. To your dismay, this only made the smell stronger. You reminded yourself to clean the floor in the morning.

You woke up early the next day, your skin covered in goosebumps from the stale, cold air of the bedroom. You shuddered beneath the covers, sitting up and looking around to figure out where the cold air was coming from but - just like with the smell of blood last night - you couldn’t find the source of the draught. The window was shut and when you checked the radiator it was warm beneath your touch. Maybe there had been some sort of flaw they hadn’t told you about. But you knew that there wasn’t - you’d checked thoroughly with the electricity and water suppliers as well as the neighbouring houses. Nothing was wrong with the house.

Then why was it so fucking cold?

You grumbled to yourself as you opened the bedroom door, stilling when you realised that the air in the hallway was just as warm and comfortable as it had been the night before. You reached a hand back into the bedroom, cursing under your breath at the obvious difference in temperature. You left the door open as you made your way to the kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast, in the hopes that the circulation of air might warm up the room before you had to go to sleep again.

The day rushed by, a blur of grocery shopping, furniture building and wiping down every surface in the house. It felt more comfortable now, and the cold in your bedroom was almost unnoticeable, nothing like the unbearable icy air that you’d woken up to earlier in the day. You spent the evening calmly wrapping fairy lights around the headboard of your bed and arranging a set of scented candles around your bedroom, so that by the time you were done it looked just like your bedroom in your old apartment. Except this time it was better, because it was all yours.

You made yourself dinner, singing to yourself as you did so. You no longer had to worry about bothering any roommates with your music or whether somebody had left their dishes behind in the sink for you to clean up. All you had to worry about was making sure your food didn’t have too much salt in it.

By the time you were in bed and ready to sleep, you’d forgotten about the weird smell the night before. Now, your room smelled like blown-out candles and the lavender-scented moth repellent you’d sprayed in your cupboard, so that when you breathed in deep all you smelled was home and nothing else. Sleep was easy and peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

There was something wet on your face. You shifted, lifting a hand to wipe away what you assumed to be sweat or tears you’d shed in your sleep, but the liquid was warmer than your skin was. You opened your eyes to examine your hand. Red. The liquid was red. The smell of blood suddenly hit you full force, a dozen times stronger than it had been the previous night. Each breath you took seemed to make the smell stronger, your head spinning as you looked around to figure out the source of the smell. After a few moments of panic, you found it.

The ceiling was stained scarlet, blood slowly dripping from it as though it were rain leaking through the roof during a storm. You couldn’t help the whimper you let out as you sat up, the smell making you so dizzy that you struggled to sit upright.

“What the fuck,” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut. Another drop of the warm liquid hit your head, pulling a scream from your throat. “What the fuck!”

“Shh,” a voice came from beside you. You screamed again and scrambled away from your bed as fast as you could, shivering from how cold your room was. Your knees hit the hardwood floor hard and you wailed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to open the door. You couldn’t grip the door handle. Why couldn’t you grip the door handle? A glance downward revealed why. Your hands were slippery with blood, glistening even in the low moonlight filtering in through your blinds. A sob escaped you, body shuddering as you tried desperately to grab the handle.

“Shit!” you yelled, pounding your fists against the door. It was futile. Nobody would hear you. You were living alone now after all. “Shit, shit, shit-”

“Shh,” the same voice from before whispered. You screamed again, your body trembling as a frigid hand came to rest on the back of your neck. “It’s okay. Just a little blood.”

“No,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands. You didn’t care about the blood anymore, you just didn’t want to see whoever it was that was behind you. You didn’t want to know if they were the one to blame for the red, steaming liquid dripping from your ceiling. The frigid hand removed itself and was replaced by two arms wrapping around you, just as cold as the hand had been.

“You’re okay,” the person whispered. You shook your head stubbornly, your body fighting to decide whether it should sweat from the heat of the blood or warm itself up from the cold of the chest you were pressed against. “It’s just a little blood.”

Despite yourself, you leaned into the embrace, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as tightly as possible. A pair of cold lips pressed to the top of your head and two thumbs began to rub circles into your arms. You let out another sob, only to be shushed by the cold body the same way a crying baby would be shushed by their parents.

“You’re okay honey. Just a little blood, okay?”

You nodded.

“Just a little-”

You woke with a start. The clock beside your bed read 04:02. Your skin was wet with sweat despite the chill in the air of your bedroom but there was no blood on you, not on your hands or head or cheek. The ceiling was just as clean as it had been when you went to sleep, as was the door handle.

“Fucking hell,” you breathed, letting out a long sigh.

It was just a dream. Okay, maybe not a dream. It was just a nightmare. There was no reason to be scared. It had all just been in your head. Not that you’d be able to get back to sleep now. You made your way to the bathroom, gripping your phone tight enough to make your knuckles turn white. You were grateful that the air outside of your room wasn’t cold, otherwise you would’ve had to contact your electricity provider. You were so shaken that you almost didn’t notice the drop of blood in your sink. Almost.

You’d never had such vivid dreams before in your life but they suddenly became a nightly occurrence. The hot blood, the cold arms and gentle words. Your bedroom was tainted by the image of the blood-stained bed sheets and ceiling you saw almost every night when you went to sleep so that even during the day when the air wasn’t freezing and there wasn’t a single drop of crimson around the room you found yourself shuddering at the sight of it. The worst part was that small pieces of the dreams carried over into real life - bruises stained your knees from when you would fall out of bed and dry blood gathered beneath your nails. It didn’t help to know that you were stuck here now, alone with all of your money wrapped up in the house you’d been so ecstatic to own at first.

Through all the dreams, you learned only one thing: the person that had reassured you during the first nightmare was anything but hostile. Each night his gentle voice lulled you out of the dream and into the present before you could throw yourself into a complete panic, cold but steady hands smoothing over the top of your head and leaving blood behind.

“It’s just a little blood,” he told you every night. But it wasn’t just a little blood. It was copious amounts of it, soaking through your pyjamas and into the mattress with a scent so strong that it made you nauseous. The same dream every night, only a little different each time. Tonight was no different.

You smelled it before you saw or felt it. The smell was followed by a wet hand on your forehead. Oh. That part was new.

“Wake up,” he murmured - the same man who usually woke you with nothing more than his gentle reassurances. His thumb rubbed between your brows, smearing blood over your skin. “Come on. There’s no blood this time, I swear.”

This wasn’t the dream you had every night. You opened your eyes in confusion, met with bright eyes looking down at you and lips parted in a curious expression. The man smiled.

“There you are,” he said. He sounded just like the man from your dreams, gentle and quiet. But why did he have a face this time? Why was he standing over you instead of holding you from behind? And why wasn’t he comforting you the way he usually did? “You look prettier when you’re awake.”

“Awake?” you asked, your heart pounding so hard that you could hear the blood rushing in your ears and feel the veins in your neck pulsing. He nodded happily, pulling back from you when you moved to sit up. You took a moment to look around the room. He’d been honest - there was no blood to be found in the room, except for all over him. As always, you tried and failed to find the source of the blood that was dripping from his hair and soaking his clothes. There wasn’t enough light in the room to tell where it was from and besides, he was so soaked in it that you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell anyway. You felt bile rise in your throat. “What are you- fuck, what the fuck are you doing here? Who are you?”

His happy smile fell, replaced by an expression that almost looked hurt.

“You moved into my house,” he told you, as though you’d asked him a stupid question. You shook your head, shifting in the bed to try and get away from him. He followed you with no question, kneeling down on the bed and leaning closer to you. You could feel tears welling in your eyes already, your mind racing as you tried to figure out who the fuck was in your house.

“No, this is- this is my house! I paid for it!” you yelled, a small spark of guilt filling your chest when he looked even more hurt than before.

“This is my bedroom,” he said firmly, staining the bed crimson as he moved towards you. Where was the fucking blood coming from? “I tried to keep it clean for you but the blood keeps coming back, I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

“It’s you!” you screamed, tears rolling down your cheeks. He immediately reached out to wipe them away, his skin freezing even though the blood on his hand was so hot that it almost burned you. The touch was familiar, just as careful as it was in your dreams, and you leaned into it on instinct. “You’re the one covered in it!”

“That’s not my fault,” he mumbled. When you didn’t calm down, he moved to straddle you, holding your face in slick, caring hands. “Don’t cry. I thought if you were awake you wouldn’t cry.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you whimpered, letting him hug you to his chest.

“I wanted to look after you,” he said softly, rubbing your back. “To thank you for looking after my house.”

You took a hold of his soaked shirt, holding onto it tight as you leaned forward into him. It was just another dream. Your brain was just screwing with you, trying to make you think this man was real. If you were honest, it was working. He felt so real beneath your touch, his soaked shirt coating your hands in blood and his cold breath on the top of your head felt more than just vivid. You shook your head again and he shushed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, sniffing back tears when he wiped your cheek fondly, only further dirtying it with blood.

“None of that now. The blood is over, there’s no need to be scared,” he whispered, clicking his tongue at you. “Let me make it better, hm?”

You nodded desperately. He’d fixed these dreams so many times before, this time would be no different. He let go of you, shifting back a little so that he was smiling down at you. You could see the full extent of what he looked like now that your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you found that he was handsome, eyes all but sparkling as he looked down at you.

“This is a lonely house when you live alone, isn’t it?” he asked. You nodded, sniffling and trying to wipe your cheeks with your wet palms, gagging when it only intensified the smell of blood flooding your lungs. He tutted softly, pulling your hands away from your face and setting them down by your sides. “I know. I lived here with someone else but they moved away. Left me alone here. It’s not a good place to live alone.”

He sounded sad but the smile on his face didn’t waver at all.

“But I’m here to keep you company now. I’ve been alone for so long and I knew you would be lonely too,” he cooed with a small pout, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. You shivered at the feeling of his cold lips on your skin and the sticky feeling they left behind. His fingertips trailed down the sides of your neck, pressing over your pulsing veins so that both you and him could feel the blood rushing beneath your skin. You stared at him while he admired you and finally found the source of the blood: a deep gash in the side of his throat that glimmered each time it caught the light coming in through your blinds. It bled steadily, the flow of blood never slowing. It didn’t explain the blood in his hair or on his face, but it made more sense than no source of blood at all. “Will you let me take care of you?”

You shifted your gaze to his face and found that he was watching you examine him with eyes just as curious as yours probably were, his blunt fingernails digging into your skin as he felt your pulse. You nodded before you had even processed his question properly. He smiled, lips stretching to show his teeth. Slowly, he leaned in closer to you, nose brushing against yours while his cold breath ghosted over your lips. You waited for him to say something - anything - but there was nothing, just the sound of his breathing and if you listened closely enough, the wet sound of his neck pumping out a constant stream of blood. Then he kissed you.

His skin was so cold that it hurt to kiss him, your own lips becoming numb and stiff the longer he stayed close to you. Just when you were sure your lips would turn to ice, his lips parted against yours and with a soft exhale, blood poured from his mouth into yours. His blood. The liquid was hot enough to make you forget about the cold of his hands holding your neck, staining your tongue so that even when you swallowed to stop yourself from choking you could taste it. He pulled back then, tongue sliding over your bottom lip in what must’ve been an attempt to lick away the blood. Instead, all he did was drip more of it from his tongue onto your skin, scarlet dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

“See?” he hummed, letting go of your neck and sliding his hands up your shirt to hold your waist. You whimpered at the touch, your skin feeling like it was on fire now that you understood what he meant by taking care of you - or maybe that was just your body trying to protect itself from his icy touch. “It’s just a little blood.”

“Just a little-”

Your voice cut off in a gasp as his hands pushed up to squeeze your chest, wet fingertips dragging circles into your skin as he leaned in to kiss you again, sharing another mouthful of hot, pungent blood with you as he did so. This time, you let it spill from your mouth instead of trying to swallow, whining when he licked into your mouth and pushed more of the warm liquid down your throat. Despite the mess that his blood was making all over both of you, he was careful as he kissed you, teeth digging into your bottom lip hard enough to make you gasp but never enough to hurt you while his hands pushed your pyjama shirt upwards, exposing your chest to the cold air of your bedroom.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered against your lips, the taste of him still strong on your tongue.

“You’re cold,” you whined, biting back a gasp when his thumbs rubbed over your nipples. He seemed pleased by the sound, repeating the action before twisting your nipples with a soft huff of laughter.

“Not warm enough?” he asked, voice taking on a teasing tone that was so foreign it made you shudder.

“Not warm enough,” you repeated after him. He hummed and gestured for you to lift your arms. You followed blindly, your breath catching in your throat when he pulled your shirt upward, tugging it over your head and off of your arms. Your skin was only more exposed to the cold now and you let out a frustrated whine, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s fucking- you’re so cold.”

“Shh,” he cooed, the same way he did in your dreams. The sound made your head fuzzy, goosebumps prickling your skin as he nosed at your neck and moved his hands down to your stomach. “It’s okay.”

You tried to protest again but all words died in your throat when one of his hands slipped below the waistband of your pyjama pants. His fingertips were so cold on your skin that the touch almost hurt, but each frigid sting was washed away by hot blood that seemed to spill from each pore on his body. The liquid ran in rivulets down the insides of your thighs, pulling you out of your daze as you became all too aware of the arousal throbbing between your legs.

“Shit,” you breathed, tilting your head to expose more of your neck to the man straddling you. He made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your skin until you were sure you were covered in just as much of his blood as he was. Your stomach was twisting from the smell of it but you didn’t mind as much as you had done earlier, not when you could feel yourself getting wetter, your hips pushing upward in hopes of getting his hand closer to where you wanted it. “Please. Come on, please- fuck, I don’t even know your name.”

The man listened to your frustrated words with a smile on his lips.

“Seong-hwa,” he said, separating the syllables with a brief pause. He kept the tip of his tongue between his bloodied teeth, grinning down at you.

The name was familiar. Why was it familiar? You were sure you’d heard of a famous Seonghwa before but your thoughts were so jumbled that you could barely remember how to breathe, let alone remember where you’d last heard the name.

“Still cold?” he asked, pulling his hand from where it had been resting beneath your pyjama pants to cup your cheek. You shook your head no and he smiled, pulling back so that he was no longer straddling you. You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, peeling the soaked material from his skin and setting it aside. His eyes stayed fixed on yours as he took off his pants (pyjama pants, you noticed) and then pushed down his underwear to reveal his dick, hard and dripping not only with blood but precum too, his hand shaking as he wrapped it around himself.

“Fuck,” you whispered, the word intensifying the metallic taste in your mouth. He made no move to come closer to you, blood dripping from his parted lips to meet the head of his length. “Fuck.”

“You’ll get cold if you just sit there,” he warned, voice strained as he pushed his hips upward to fuck into his fist.

He was right. The blood on his skin never seemed to dry, wet and dripping on every inch of his skin, but on your skin it was quickly coagulating into a sticky layer that made the brisk air of the room bite into your skin, your lips quickly turning numb now that the warmth of his blood was out of your reach. You had a clear view of the gash in his neck from this angle and the way the blood was gushing from it and pouring down his skin, gathering in the dip of his collarbone to form a little pool before it spilled over and trickled down his sternum to where his hand was wrapped around his dick. He watched you watch him, a knowing smile on his lips. It was far too cold in the room to stay away from the only source of heat.

You clumsily pushed yourself up off of the bed, practically falling on top of Seonghwa in your rush to get to him. He clicked his tongue not in annoyance but in amusement, arms wrapping around your waist to squeeze you close before he was sliding down your pyjama pants.

“Are you cold honey?” he asked, fingers kneading into the flesh of your ass and thighs as you clung to him. You nodded, pressing your face against him, uncaring of how the blood slid against your skin or that the stench of it was now permanent in your airway and almost unnoticeable when you inhaled deeply to hold back a moan. Seonghwa’s wet fingers dipped between your legs for just a moment before his movements stopped entirely. “Do you still want me to take care of you?”

You shifted your hips in an attempt to get his touch back where you wanted it, the feeling of his hard-on pressed up against your stomach enough to push a moan out of you. But Seonghwa kept you still, one arm tight around you to stop you from chasing his touch again.

“That’s not an answer darling,” he murmured, lips pressing to your jaw in a gentle kiss.

You keened low in your throat.

“Yes. Please,” you begged. “Please, Seonghwa.”

You barely felt when he started to move, only felt two of his fingers pressing into you while he grinded his cock forward against your stomach, cold skin and hot blood giving you pins and needles all over. His fingers felt so much warmer than the rest of him, each slight movement amplified by the heat radiating off of them. He groaned when you slumped forward against him, curling his fingers at just the right angle to make your body jolt.

“There we go,” he murmured, his movements speeding up now that he’d found the spot that made you whimper against his skin. A soft laught made it’s way past his lips when you struggled to find purchase on him thanks to how slick your hands were with his blood, the moans leaving your lips steadily growing louder with each languid flick of his wrist. “There you go. Does it feel better?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, one of your hands sliding clumsily down his side until it caught on his hip. He drew in a sharp breath at the feeling, his hips pushing forward into you. Oh. You shifted your hand, fingertips drawing small circles into his skin until they met his dick, warm and heavy in your hand as you adjusted your grip on it. He choked on a moan, fingers shoving deeper into you when you began to stroke him. His skin was feverish beneath your palm, such a sharp contrast to how icy he’d felt earlier that for a moment you were worried it was all a dream after all. “You’re so warm.”

There was no answer for a while, just his quiet moans against your skin and the lewd sound of his fingers inside of you and your hand around his length, every movement louder thanks to the excess blood on both of you. Finally, with a particularly rough push of his fingers, he spoke a near-silent reply into your skin.

“I told you I would take care of you,” he said, pulling his fingers from you and bringing them to his mouth. You pulled back just far enough to take in the sight of your arousal coating his fingers, mixed with his blood so that they were one and the same, before his tongue parted them both, licking between them and pushing them into his bloody mouth. When he pulled them out, there was no trace of you left, only the familiar blood that coated the rest of his body. The longer you were apart from him, the more you began to shiver, your skin exposed entirely to the numbing cold air of your room. He grinned at you, taking a hold of your wrist to pull your hand off of him. His palm was so hot it almost burned your skin. “Is something wrong honey?”

“It’s cold,” you whimpered. Your body felt like it was about to explode, your cunt throbbing with need and your skin on fire where Seonghwa held you, while the rest of you turned numb, the cold making it hard to think. Had it gotten colder in your room? “Fuck, it’s cold.”

“Do you want me to take care of it?” he asked, leaning forward so that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You tried to lean forward but found yourself frozen in place. He practically purred when you let out a panicked whine. “Do you want me to make it better? Make the cold go away?”

“Yes,” you choked out, the word clumsy and heavy as it passed through your numb lips.

That was all he needed to hear.

His lips pressed against yours and this time the taste of his blood flooding your mouth was euphoric, your body relaxing into his touch as he lay you down on the bed and used his fervent hands to part your legs so that he could slot between them. His movements were fluid and your body accommodated him with ease, allowing his warmth to seep through his skin into yours.

“Better?” he asked, lips moving against yours as he spoke. You shuddered, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring him closer, moaning quietly when it pressed his dick forward against your entrance.

“Closer,” you whispered, tilting your chin upward to chase his lips.

“Greedy,” he scolded, kissing you slowly but with no less fervour than before.

With a careful shift of his hips he pushed into you, the stretch enough to make tears well in your eyes as you gasped, inhaling the breath from Seonghwa’s lungs until there was none left. It was only when he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, that you let out the breath you were holding, your body relaxing into the blood-soaked mattress as he began to fuck into you. Each of his movements soothed the stinging pain that the caustic air had left behind until there was nothing but the heat of his skin on yours and his blood in your mouth and the pulsing pleasure of his length inside of you.

“You're gorgeous like this,” he groaned between gritted teeth, breaking the kiss so that he could look down at you, a string of saliva and blood that slowly dripped to your chin connecting both your mouths. He thrust harder then, smiling when it caused you to cry out. “Or how would you say it? You’re so fucking pretty.”

He emphasised the mocking words with another rough slam of his hips, bringing his hand down to rub circles into your clit as he fucked you. His warmth was embedded in your skin now, the icy air of the room no longer a thought in your mind now that you were so desperate for release. You barely registered the volume of your moans increasing when he set a merciless pace, his thrusts never faltering even as you began to clench around him, your nails digging into his arms as you grabbed onto him.

“Seonghwa,” you cried out, voice hoarse and throat sore. “Seonghwa please, I’m gonna cum-”

“You’re gonna cum all over me?” he asked gently, tears spilling from your eyes as you nodded. He grinned and trailed feather-light kisses from your temple down to your neck. “Cum for me, my pretty girl. I’ve got you.”

Your body tensed as you came, Seonghwa’s thrusts coming to a stop as he pressed himself as deep into you as he could. An unbearable warmth washed over you, your legs trembling and mouth open as you gasped for breath that wasn’t reaching your lungs. You blinked away tears and as your vision cleared, you found that Seonghwa was looking down at you, lips coated in blood. Except this blood was different. Redder. Shinier. Runnier.

“What’s happen-”

You were cut off by something hot bubbling up your throat, gushing from your lips and spilling down your chin even when you tried to swallow it down. Beneath your wheezing and choking you could hear it: the hollow bubbling of blood pumping just below your ear, pouring down your skin and up through your lips.

"You're okay," Seonghwa reassured you.

Tears blurred your vision again.

“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s just a little blood.”

“Just a little-”

You woke with a start. The clock beside your bed read 16:02. Had you really slept that long? The air in the room was frigid but there was a thin layer of sweat covering your skin and between your legs, the uncomfortable heat of arousal. Those fucking nightmares.

You headed to the kitchen, ignoring the way your pyjama pants were damp between your legs and how sore your throat was. You turned on the kettle and while you waited for the water to boil, decided to figure out which Seonghwa you’d been thinking of during the nightmare. You typed the name into the search engine on your phone, waiting patiently for the results.

Disappearance of Park Seong Hwa.

Right, that’s where you knew the name from. The missing persons case from a few years back. You clicked on the link.

Despite the abundance of his DNA in the home when the police investigated - including blood on the ceiling of his bedroom and in his bathroom sink - authorities were never able to find him.

Shit. You scrolled through the article, your skin crawling as you tried to dismiss the nausea building in your stomach. It only took a few seconds to find it: your address listed as that of the supposedly deceased Park Seonghwa, right below a picture of the man you’d seen in your dreams.

You managed only one coherent thought as you threw up into your mouth: no wonder the house was so fucking cheap.

♡

taglist: @lovely-ateez @sunsethw4 @seonghwanotes @xirenex @choiberry @peanutpmingib @sannierio @ateezinmymind

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Two of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 4,065

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

‘Oh my god…he asked me on a date’ was all you heard from outside the guestroom when you got changed into your clothes.

‘Who? Jeremy?’ you asked, poking your head into the hallway at the same time Cillian did while Denise was jumping up and down in excitement like a young schoolgirl. She had been interested in Jeremy for about six months and, finally, things began to develop.

‘Yes Jeremy. He wants to go to the movies tonight but I told him that you are visiting so…’ Denise said with excitement, causing Cillian to roll his eyes while you cheered her on with excitement.

‘You should still go. I will be fine here on my own’ you said while Cillian shook his head in disapproval.

‘No, you shouldn’t’ he then joked and Denise sighed immediately.

‘Dad, stop listening to our conversations, please…’ Denise said, but Cillian simply began to laugh and told her to enjoy herself and be safe.

After all, Denise was almost 22 and he couldn’t really control what she was doing. Nonetheless, he was concerned and reminded her to call him or her brother in case she runs into trouble.

‘Do you think I should?’ Denise asked and you, of course, reassured her that it was fine. She should cease this opportunity to get to know him better and you decided to spend the day at the local mall to buy her an outfit for the occasion.

***

After the outfit had been sorted, you dragged your friend to the lingerie store which is where you decided to treat yourself to some sexy underwear as well.

‘What do you think?’ you asked, featuring a black lacey lingerie set with matching suspenders.

‘Whoa Y/N, that’s hot. You should get it for, you know, whenever you might get the chance to wear it’ Denise teased before asking you again about one of the guys at your university in whom you were interested in.

‘He is married, so I am not stupid enough to pursue it’ you explained, causing Denise to cringe.

‘Jesus, how old is he?’ she asked, but you weren’t so sure.

‘Late thirties, I think. I am not sure. He works as a lecturer in a different department’ you explained and Denise couldn’t help but shake her head and tell you to look at men around your own age.

The truth was, men your age didn’t interest you. You had been with two men before, both in their early twenties and neither of them were able to satisfy you.

***

Later that evening, after your friend Denise had left the house in order to attend her date with Jeremy, you took the time to talk to her father Cillian in the living room.

‘She's been talking about this Jeremy for a while. I think they're a thing but she won't tell me’ Cillian shrugged with a slight chuckle, hoping that you would reveal more to him.

‘Listen, I am Denise’s friend, I am not going to tell you anything she doesn’t want me to tell you’ you laughed, knowing exactly what he was doing, using his charm to source information.

‘That’s fair…it was worth a try though, right?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded with a smile.

‘Absolutely’ you grinned awkwardly in response, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, I think you are being a very thoughtful friend for not crashing her date’ he then chuckled and, just as he did, Denise’s brother barged out of the front door with a loud ‘see ya’.

‘Uhm, yes…Looks like it’s just us huh?’ you said somewhat nervously and Cillian nodded reluctantly while you looked at his lips and back up to his eyes and then back down.

The way you looked at him threw Cillian off and he began to stammer when responding to your observation.

‘Yes, uhm listen, just make yourself feel at home. I am going to…’ Cillian said but, just before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘Cillian’ you said somewhat abruptly after you licked your lips, which is when you realised that he was going to say something else.

‘Yes Y/N?’ he inhaled, closing his eyes as he turned his head to the side. It took every muscle in his body to keep a safe distance from you.

‘No sorry…you were saying something…go on’ you stammered.

‘No, it’s alright, you first’ he responded and, just as he did, you grabbed Cillian’s hand which was clenched in frustration at his side and his eyes jolted open and his attention snapped back to you just as he had worked up the ability to turn away.

‘I wasn’t being a thoughtful friend for not crashing Denise’s date. In fact, I was being selfish’ you explained as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the back of Cillian’s neck.

‘Selfish in what way?’ he asked and, just as he did, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips onto his, catching him by surprise.

‘Y/N, I don’t think that is a good idea’ Cillian said, immediately breaking the kiss and stepping away from you.

‘I am twice your age Y/N. I could be your father for god’s sake’ he then huffed out but, despite his words of discouragement, what had developed in between his legs was rather encouraging.

‘I know and I am fairly sure that I am not the only twenty something year old out there who is attracted to you’ you chuckled before continuing on. ‘But, if you aren’t attracted to me then that’s totally fine and I am sorry for having crossed a line’ you said, biting your lip nervously as you began to unbutton your summer dress, slowly revealing the lingerie you had bought earlier that day.

‘Let me get this straight Y/N. You stayed here to seduce me?’ Cillian gulped while watching you undress eagerly.

‘Yes, pretty much’ you chuckled. ‘I’ve been fantasising about this for years’ you told him before you pulled him closer by his neck.

‘I want you to sleep with me’ you whispered, running your hand over his crotch and it was becoming way too difficult for Cillian to control himself.  

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian sighed as his hands automatically fanned out over your hips and melded them together at the core. Your stomachs pressed to one another and your breathing increased with the sudden flash of heat radiating from both of your bodies.

Giving into his desires, Cillian unleashed a hard kiss on your soft lips and you were knocked off balance somewhat but he was holding you in place by your hips just above where you were propped against the back of the couch.

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally by the sudden shift in speed and you fired back licking his lips in request that he part them.

He complied and you slid your tongue just far enough to touch his and flicked it up and down quickly before pulling back. Cillian took a deep breath as he followed your tongue back into your mouth.

You lifted onto your toes to better reach Cillian’s lips and, with your movement, you felt his grip tighten on your hips.

Cillian then pulled himself further into your core which pushed you further onto the back of the couch. Cillian was trying to stay calm and you loved that and hated it at the same time. You couldn't help but want to speed him up as you could already feel his racing heart pounding against his rib cage and vibrating through your chest.

Cillian’s soft tongue retreated after licking your pink quivering lips. You shivered as you felt his fingertips squeeze tighter on your hips. You sucked his bottom lip between yours and grazed your teeth as deep as they would naturally go. You felt his jaw clench. In fact, you felt every muscle in his body tensing and then tensing more.

Your feet had been dangling but now your ankles were locked behind his knees. You didn't remember consciously placing them there but, then again, you didn't remember consciously doing anything since the moment you kissed him.

Your hand pulled him by the nape of his neck further into your mouth and he groaned accidentally then rolled his eyes at his uncontrolled noise.

Cillian then leaned you backwards, your entire weight and his depended on his feet being grounded. You tied your ankles tighter around the back of his knees and held your breath.

Eventually, Cillian moved his hands from your hips down your thigh using as much pressure as he could manage before he spread his fingers out as he journeyed just as ferociously back up.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes and using your sense of touch to the full while inhaling Cillian’s scent. He looked up, seeing your soft closed eyes and plump lips in ecstasy and his view trailed down your neck and between your breasts. His hands slid gentle and firm around your back and he gripped the small of your back with powerful fingertips.

He felt you shiver and he let his tongue slid up from the centre of your collar bone to the centre of your throat where he felt you suddenly gulp.

‘Are you sure that this is what you want Y/N?’ he asked, pausing momentarily.

‘Yes Mr Murphy…’ you stammered, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Cillian I mean’ you giggled while taking a moment to let your summer dress drop to the floor.

‘Jesus fucking Christ’ he said as he saw you standing there in your new sexy lingerie and you couldn’t help but smirk.

‘This is all yours. I want you to fuck me’ you said and, without losing any time, Cillian kissed along your neck, over and over.

‘Trust me, I will’ he smirked as he nibbled on your neck.

He noticed that every time he breathed in, you did also. And every time he exhaled, you exhaled.

Eventually, he caught your lips with his again as his hands firmly caressed up her back and retreated down, a little further than before.

Cillian felt your eyes on him. Your breath was sweet on his lips, it made him want to breathe deeper. It seemed impossible for either of you to get any closer than you were and he felt a desire for you which he hadn’t felt for any woman in years.

You whispered his name which sent shivers down his spine. He signalled his hand to unintentionally hold you tighter while you flexed your fingers on his shoulders, digging your nails past his shirt.

Cillian looked down at your lips as they quivered your whispers. He placed his lips on yours again, not pressing but rather barely touching them.

‘Y/N’ Cillian whispered and his word was a mood and name and definition all wrapped in one. It was the answer to your unasked question. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Cillian flexed his fingers into your thighs and lifted you up from the couch. You latched on, tightening your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He waited there, kissing you long and hard before he could even think of where to put you, if he ever wanted to put you down.

You smiled on his lips, trailing kisses to his ear and whispered ‘come with me’.

You let your fingers unzip themselves from behind his neck and your torso flung back onto the couch. You now hung up-side-down, legs still latched onto his waist. You smiled up at him and he let his fingers roam your entire body for a moment.

Both his hands pressed firmly as he explored and he started at your thighs and pressed into your tight belly. He completely encased your rib cage with his large hands before lightening his touch as he began to caress your breasts.

‘Oh god, please don’t stop’ you moaned as, finally, Cillian hoovered over you and you were laying under him. You loosened your legs and lengthened your body, your arms gripping the armrest to one end of the couch and your toes reaching for the other arm rest.

Cillian made it first priority to grab your face with both hands and hold you in the longest, hottest kiss he knew you would ever have. He kissed down your neck and you used your strength in your arms and legs to press yourself up into his mouth as he unclasped the front of your bra and let his tongue flick over your nipple.

It was too much for you to try and keep your hands from his body and you fought to keep your hands from trembling at the least as you streamed your fingers through his hair and made a request by tugging him further into your breast. He complied willingly, for a moment but was soon lost over your long flat stomach that he could feel quiver under his tongue.

He adored how nervous you were and how much you wanted it all at the same time.

‘Relax Y/N. We can stop whenever you want’ Cillian said reassuringly but stopping was the last thing you wanted him to do.

‘Don’t stop, it feels good’ you huffed out as you could barely focus your eyes as you looked down at him just as his hands melted into your panties and lifted you up by the ass in order to take them off.

His face was so close to your aching core and you gave up trying to watch him when your vision blurred from the throbbing heat wave through your body.

When Cillian finally pulled down your lace panties you heard a high pitched squeal that, a moment later, you realised came from your clenched teeth.

‘Take me Cillian, please’ you repeated at this moment and Cillian hesitated as long as he could, almost saying something but not being able to express the thought.

You could see that he was holding back. He was still reluctant and it wasn’t until you arched your back suggestively that he gave into you.

The width of his shoulders pushed your knees apart, opening you wide for him as he kissed you just above your core, causing you to moan.  

You shuddered at his hot breath against your pussy and soon felt his fingers join in, running gently over your soaking mound.  

Then, finally, you shouted, a gasp and yell all wrapped up together, as his wet tongue lapped at you, long steady strokes over your entire wetness while he held your pussy with two of his fingers.

It felt sensational and it was difficult for you to keep quiet. Luckily, both of Cillian’s children were out and you could be as loud as you wanted to be.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as his tongue circled around your clit, flicking at it, then returned lower to slide inside you as far as he could go, then back up again to your clit.

Your hips involuntarily started pushing up against him and it wasn’t long until the feeling of him pleasing you like this became too much.

‘Don’t stop’ you moaned as he used his hands to spread you open even wider while circling your clit.

You bucked, writhing against him as his tongue ran over your clit.

As his tongue kept on at you, you felt yourself climbing and climbing and climbing towards an unfamiliar feeling. It was intense and was unlike anything else you had ever felt before. You knew what it was, but yet, you didn’t expect it. Not so quick and not by him just using his tongue and fingers.

When he finally sucked your clit into his mouth, you were sent over the edge. ‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver as he continued to suck and lick until you slowly calmed down.

‘That was quick’ Cillian chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh and cry all at the same time.

‘Oh Jesus…that…I didn’t…I didn’t expect that’ you huffed out, causing Cillian to laugh and look at you with some confusion.

‘What did you expect?’ he wondered as he pulled his t-shirt over his head in readiness for what was to come yet.

His body was simply perfect and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment.

‘I just didn’t think that I could come like this’ you eventually whispered and, without responding to your comment, Cillian moved up and kissed your lips hard and you took it with a moan as you let your fingers rake down his long torso and undid his jeans in one fast motion that was done before he knew what happened.

‘I want to feel you inside me’ you whispered into his lips and he painfully sighed and kissed you again, both his arms held him above you on either side of your waist. Your hands worked his jeans and briefs down just enough for you to release his tremendously hard cock and you pulled him directly over her.

Cillian looked down into your face that radiated heat and hunger. You bit your lip as you let one of your arms free and clutched the back of Cillian’s neck and engulfed yourself in his mouth again. Just as your tongue glided over his, h couldn’t hold back any longer and he drove his hard cock into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned. You were so wet he barely had to push himself into you although your tightness made both of you wince in pleasure.

‘Fuck you are so tight’ Cillian groaned before he bit down on his lip as he ventured deeper into you. He shut his eyes momentarily to manage to catch his heart before it pounded out of his chest.

You inhaled sharply and, just as you did, those last few inches of Cillian’s hard cock were completely enveloped in you. You clutched your ankles behind his and gripped his back with your short, unmanicured nails.

The ecstasy came in quick hot waves that they were thrown into together every time Cillian pumped into you or you thrusted up toward him.

Cillian thrusted into you over and over again and you began to moan louder than before. You experienced an uncontrollable urge to howl that you could barely hold back and Cillian shut his eyes and gripped you as tightly as he could manage.

You both used every muscle in your bodies to create one living, writhing creature rather than two. Eventually, you cried out Cillian’s name and he took you with the deepest most passionate kiss he ever possessed as you spiralled into a lazy heap.

You fucked for what appeared like hours and you were so close to your release and so was Cillian.

It wasn’t long until Cillian could feel your walls tightening around him as your moans were getting louder and your breathing became laboured.

‘Don’t come yet’ you huffed out in between moans, which took Cillian by surprise.

But he didn’t argue and nodded, complying with your request.

Nonetheless, he could tell that you were close and increased his speed and moved one of his hands between your legs, rubbing your clit.

‘Oh god!’ you shouted, loosing control as yet another orgasm washed over you.

He continued to thrust into you until you came down from your high, then slowing down his thrusts until he pulled out of you.

‘Stay there’ you said as you turned around and let your body slide off the lounge and kneeling right in front of him.

After you got comfortable enough, you guided his hard and wet cock into your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian moaned as he watched take him in all the way into the back of your throat.

You moved your tongue up and down his hard shaft firmly before running circles over his tip and continued these movements for while.

Cillian began to struggle to contain himself. Watching you suck his cock like this was too much for him.

You knew he was getting close as his cock began pulsating and you could tell that he was holding back.

‘I want to taste you, all of you’ you said in between your movements and that was all he needed to hear.

Within moments, you could feel one of his hands curling up in your hair, with no force but rather for support.

His breathing was becoming laboured and his head fell back and his eyes closed as, with one loud moan, he filled your mouth with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he groaned as his entire body was pulsating and you continued to lick him clean until he slowly came down from his high.

‘Hmm, I always wanted to do this’ you said with a smirk after swallowing his load.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he gasped and you couldn’t help but giggle slightly before climbing onto the couch with him which is when he pulled you in for another passionate kiss.

‘I am hungry, what about you?’ Cillian then asked all of a sudden, realising what had just happened between you. It was clear to him that, sleeping with you was a mistake but, for some reason unknown to him, all sense of reasonable and proper thought went through the window when you began to undress right there in front of him.

‘Me too’ you said as you watched Cillian pull up his briefs and jeans before he disappeared to order some pizza.

***

‘I suppose we aren’t going to mention this again, right?’ you asked somewhat nervously as you were both dressed and waited for your pizzas.

‘No one can know about this Y/N. I shouldn’t have…’ Cillian said somewhat upset and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘We…we shouldn’t have’ you chuckled but Cillian felt that, being substantially older than you, he was the one to blame.

‘I shouldn’t have given into you’ he said.

‘Did you enjoy it at least?’ you wondered.

‘I enjoyed it a lot, which makes it even worse’ he told you before asking you the same question.

‘I did, but I am sure you were able to tell’ you chuckled.

‘I was’ Cillian chuckled before informing you that he was glad that his neighbours were on a cruise.

‘Well, it was the best sex I’ve ever had so, even if this was a one of thing, I am glad I took my chances’ you then said which is when the doorbell rang and you knew that your pizzas had arrived.

***

Not long after you ate, you heard the front door barge open and you were a little surprised when you saw Denise walking through it.

‘I take your date didn’t go well?’ you asked, offering her the last two pieces of pizza which she gladly accepted while Cillian went into the kitchen to get Denise a glass of water.

‘I have decided that he is an asshole’ Denise chuckled and, to your surprise, she didn’t appear to be to upset.

‘Want to tell me about it?’ you asked just as Cillian returned from the kitchen but Denise shook her head.

‘Not tonight and not in front of my dad’ Denise laughed and Cillian was quick to excuse himself, giving the two of you some privacy.

‘So how was your evening? I see that dad ordered you some pizza from my favourite pizzeria’ Denise said, wondering what you had been doing.

‘Uhm…yeah…good. The pizza was nice’ you barely managed to stammer.

‘What did you do?’ she then asked.

‘Uhm…we…uhm…ate pizza and we watched a movie’ you quickly blurted out after not being able to think of something else as you glanced at the two empty wine glasses in front of you.

‘You watched a movie, ate some pizza and drank some wine…with my dad? Weirdo’ Denise then chuckled and you simply shrug your shoulders.

‘Yeah, your dad is nice, so why not?’ you huffed out somewhat embarrassed.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[fa1ryofshampoo]

hii! i was wondering if you could do a smut request for heeseung please? where him and the reader are basically always getting cockblocked by the other members leaving both of y’all fed up(especially heeseung). until one day all the boys leave, so heeseung takes out his pent up anger? (i don’t know how describe it lol) on the reader. you can make it as detailed as you want!

thank you and have a great day! <3

hello! here it is! i enjoyed writing this aaA, i hope i did okay here huhu thank you for the request and stay safe! 💟

Thirsty

pairing: lee heeseung x reader

–––––

Today, I have the whole afternoon to myself. Thanks to the strength and power I had I was able to finish the tasks up until noon time. I lie down my bed and scrolled through my phone when my boyfriend's name appeared on my screen, a call incoming.

"Heedeungie." He chuckled at my cute voice.

"Y/N, how are you? Are you busy?"

"I'm good, I'm not busy. I have finished my tasks so I have the rest of the day to spare." I responded.

"Would you like to come over here? I cooked something for the two of us since the boys are all out." I sensed some shyness in his voice on the last sentence. A smile formed on my lips because of my boyfriend's thoughtfulness.

"Okay! I'll text you once I'm near there." We both said our goodbyes and I went to change clothes. Since I'm on the mood to wear something fancier than just jeans and a shirt, I went for a casual dress and a denim jacket matched with my boots. I brushed my hair and gave my pout a touch of my favorite lip tint before I stepped out of my apartment. Dang, it's cold.

While sitting on the bus, I tought of the times me and Heeseung spent on their dorm. Most of the time, the two of us will watch movies or play board games that will eventually end up to us making out in their room. Heeseung, as my first boyfriend, is clingy. He will not hesitate to make the first move and make me feel things I haven't felt before and I love that. One day, when we thought about finally having sex after and when we first tried to do it, Jungwon suddenly knocked on the room saying that the foods they ordered were there already. I remember clearly how hard he was at that time, how I sat on his erection restricted by his boxers and how my school skirt was bunched up to my waist, ready for what was about to happen. But although Heeseung is clingy, he gets pretty flustered easily. That's why when we got interrupted, I know we won't be able to continue anymore. When I came there another time, Heeseung forgot to lock the door so Sunghoon suddenly barged in, thinking the two of us are just chillin' because he heard songs playing inside. But then again, we were almost discarding our clothes. And again, we're interrupted.

Just everytime, every single time we would want to have sex, something has to come up and take away the moment from the both of us. I noticed how Heeseung was flustered and shy the first time it happened and how he was disappointed the last time we got interrupted. I'm wondering if the same thing will happen today even if the boys are out.

I finally saw the familiar sight of their dorm so I went down the bus and texted Heeseung that I'm about to cross the road. Before I could even cross the road, Heeseung was already outside waiting for me. When I reached him he immediately embraced me. He smells so freakin' good, goodness gracious. He wore just plain white shirt and a black baggy sweatpants. His hair now black with an almost mullet making him even more attractive. Can he get even more attractive?

"Someone missed me so much, the stares are melting me." I lightly slapped his arm making him laugh.

When I entered the dorm, Heeseung closed the door and trapped me between his arms, devouring my mouth. I was a bit surprised but immediately responded to the kiss. His hands ran down my hands and I can feel him taking his time. We're not rushing things and we're letting our bodies move accordingly. To my dismay, my stomach grumbled in the middle of our make out sesh. Heeseung opened his eyes, chuckling after he realized my stomach complained. I looked at him apologetically and before I could say anything, Heeseung opened his mouth to speak. "It's okay, Y/N. I know I prepared food and before they get cold and you collapse from hunger let's eat now." No wonder I had a big time crush on him up until now.

After eating the foods he prepared, he took my hand and played some upbeat songs to dance jam with. We continued to dance and converse until we finally felt like sitting already. We sat on the couch and decided to drink some soju.

"Time flies so fast, it's already four in the afternoon. When will the boys come home?" I asked him while he poured me a drink.

"Jungwon, Sunoo and Ni-Ki will be home by nine I guess. They said they'll be having dinner outside. Sunghoon, Jake and Jay won't be home until tomorrow morning due to their personal errands." My mouth formed an 'o'. It's very rare that the boys go out and have time of their own.

"Thank you for spending your spare time with me. I really appreciate it." I raised my glass and took a shot of it. "Oh, shoot. That still hits!" My face grimaced with the taste of alcohol. Heeseung laughed at my expression. He know how low my alcohol tolerance is so he never lets me finish a bottle to myself. After a few more shots, I know that tipsy is enough so I stopped. Heeseung drank the remaining drink. Despite the cold weather, sweat formed on his temples. I took a good look at the sight in front of me. My boyfriend, gulping from the bottle, adam's apple shifting with every gulp, his shirt hanging low down to his chest, eyebrows furrowing from the aftertaste of the alcohol. Heavenly.

"You might drool, sweetheart." To my surprise, Heeseung was already mere centimeters away from my face. He played with the lace of the hem of my dress. "You dolled up for me today with this dress despite the fact we're staying at home and it's freezing cold outside." I can only look at him, too tempted of his actions. "I see you wore the lip tint I gave you. I was right when I thought it would suit you." His gaze went down to my lips. He held my hand and I squeezed it.

No words needed, he gave me wet kisses on my neck. "Do you know how much I waited to finally have time with you alone?" He managed to mumble while still kissing my jaw and everywhere else he could. I can feel he's getting impatient but he still made sure to savor every moment. I can only hum as a response. I turned his head to mine and kissed him. The taste and the flavor of the drink lingered everytime our tongues fought. "Your lips taste so good, Heeseung." He bit my bottom lip and held my hair to deepen the kiss. Fervor grew each and every minute, my denim jacket, his shirt and sweatpants now discarded while he held my thighs and I straddled him. He held onto my ass before standing up and giving it a sharp slap that made me yelp. I can feel the erection growing from his sweatpants. I rolled my hips to make my pooling core meet his member that made him groan. I noticed how his half-lidded eyes are now filled with so much lust.

"Heeseung, please just fuck me now." I continued to roll my hips in his. Growing impatient, he pinned me to the wall and bunched my dress up to my waist. He took his cock out and pushed my panties aside. He held my waist as I slowly sat down on his thick cock. When I was finally halfway, he thrusted up and picked up his pace immediately. His movements show how much he's thirsty to do this all along. Heeseung played and flicked my nipples with his tongue while kneading the other one. I didn't know how to react, all I know was the dorm was filled with our moaning noises. "You know how much I wanted to pound into you like this, hm? I know you wanted me to fuck you too huh don't you?" His brows furrowed while his eyes remained filled with lust. "Want me to fuck you real hard? Use your words baby."

"Yes, Heeseung please!" Tears started forming in my eyes from pleasure. "Yeah, I like that. Always say please, baby." I rolled my hips to meet his movements and moaned directly into his ear. I kissed the spot behind his ear making him moan. Heeseung opened their room and lay me down his bed without breaking our kiss and position. Once I was comfortably laying down, he took one of my legs up and placed it on his shoulders. I ran my hands on his well-built chest and his abs. I took time to admire my heavenly-looking boyfriend hungrily fucking me. "Fuck, Heeseung. You look so hot." I cannot contain it any longer. "You too, Y/N, you look hotter than hell." He pulled my dress up and throwing it somewhere in the room, leaving me with my underwear. He took away my bra and without a warning, he tore my panties not wanting to pull out from me. My mouth opened agape in surprise from him tearing my panty and his thrusts growing even faster, hitting a spot that made me emit a high-pitched moan. "Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me." He held onto my waist in the tightest way possible to hold me in place.

"So fucking tight." His growl made me unconsciously clench around him. He kneaded my breasts while the room was filled with the noise of our skin slapping, his growls and my moans. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He continued to moan my name each time. I didn't know his thrusts could still grow faster and deeper, a knot forming in my stomach making me hold onto his bicep while moaning his name. He drew circles on my aching clit, enough to overstimulate me. It's so intense my legs were shaking and my toes curling. "Me too, Heeseung. I-I'm cumming." He kissed me and rode my high until his own high came, my name and curses leaving his mouth. He pulled out and came on my stomach.

After catching our breaths from the intensity, Heeseung got up to grab tissues and clean the mess. "Finally, no one interrupted us." I chuckled. "Yeah, finally. I was really looking forward to finally having you to myself, Y/N." He covered my body with blanket before lying down beside me. "It's cold, jagi. Please hug me~" This was his complete opposite minutes ago. I snuggled to his chest, bodies sweaty but none of us cared. He wrapped his arms around my body and hummed me a lull while caressing my hair. What an adorable yet thirsty baby, I thought.

[heylookitsyc]

Bad Breaks and Pancake Dates

Pairing: 2p!Canada/Matt Williams x Reader

Anime: Hetalia / 2p!Hetalia

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Synopsis: Your boyfriend (well, now ex-boyfriend) left you out in the rain, and your older brother Philippines is stuck in a World Meeting between the first and second player countries. He asks Canada’s second player to come get you, seemingly unaware of the Canadian’s little crush on you.

Warning(s): Swearing, slight mentions of a toxic/unhealthy relationship

Note: Just a reminder that none of you deserve to be in an unhealthy relationship !! You all deserve to be happy, and I wish you all nothing but happiness and good health in your lives (´･ᴗ･ ` ) please enjoy!

Story is down below!

~

You hugged yourself in a weak attempt to stay warm, the trees above you doing little to defend you from the rain.

It was difficult to tell if the drops running down your cheeks were from your own tears or the rain. You didn’t expect it to rain; it was supposed to be a fun day out with your boyfriend, so you had dressed in some of your best attire. Unfortunately, it did little to protect you from the rain.

After breaking it off with you, your asshole of a now ex-boyfriend had left you off at the side of the road. He had responded to your protests with a few not so kind words before driving off, leaving you to stand outside in the cold.

Your phone rang, and with slightly numb fingers you managed to press the “answer” button before holding it up to your ear.

You were met with Matt’s gruff voice. “Hey, where are you?” 

“I don’t know,” you said weakly. “There aren’t any street signs nearby.”

“Can you send me your location?”

“I think so.”

“Alright.” You heard the sound of a vehicle starting up. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Your brother sent me to come get you.”

“Oh. Thanks, Matt.”

He simply gave a small grunt in response before hanging up, leaving you to yourself once more.

~

You stared out the window mindlessly. Music played from the radio, the volume too low for you to know what kind of tune it was. Matt had given you a spare sweatshirt that he had in the backseat of his car; you noticed that it was the same sweatshirt that you had given to him one Christmas. You could smell the faint scent of maple syrup and cigarette smoke coming from the article of clothing.

A small smile formed on your lips. You remember how Matt was when you had given him the sweatshirt; his face had become a bright red, muttering something about how stupid your gift was. He had said that he would never wear such a thing, but that obviously turned out to be a lie.

Matt suddenly cleared his throat, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“So what happened?” he asked. Though he sounded uninterested, the glance he gave you showed the complete opposite. “You were crying when I arrived.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his statement. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I did. You don’t usually look that unhappy.”

“I guess.” You fiddled with the sweatshirt, taking notice of how the sleeves fell well past your fingertips. With a small sigh, you decided to tell him. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

You didn’t notice the way that Matt’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, eyes narrowing behind his dark shades.

“Are you fucking serious?”

You were caught off guard by the Canadian’s response. You felt the anger radiating off of him, and it started to make you nervous.

“Yeah, I am,” you said, tugging on the sweatshirt sleeve now. “He broke it off when we were coming back from the movies. He parked somewhere, and he…”

You suddenly went quiet, letting out a shaky breath.

“He wanted to do some things,” you went on, after a few seconds had passed. “I told him I wasn’t ready for that stuff just yet. He kept trying to convince me, and eventually he got angry and… well, we broke up.” 

You felt your throat tighten, and you realized that you were now close to crying again. You felt a small nudge on your hand, and you looked down to see that while Matt still had one hand on the wheel, the other was now holding out a handkerchief.

As if sensing your confusion, Matt gave a small sound of annoyance. “What?”

“Nothing!” You quickly took the piece of cloth from him. “Thanks, Matt.”

“Do you wanna eat somewhere?” he suddenly asked. You didn’t know if you were seeing things, but you could’ve sworn that there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “We can talk more about this over dinner or something.”

You felt yourself smile at his words.

“Sure.”

~

The sweet taste of maple syrup filled your mouth as you took a bite of pancake. Matt had taken you to a local diner that he visited quite often; despite his initial plan to take you somewhere nicer, you had been quick to remember his love for pancakes. (“I haven’t had breakfast for dinner in awhile,” you had told him. “Let’s go get pancakes so that the both of us can enjoy!”).

“You know, I don’t eat pancakes often,” you said, “but these are great. Thanks for taking me here, Matt.”

“Don’t mention it.” He took a sip of his coffee, his attention on the stack of pancakes in front of you.

You took notice of his stare, head tilting slightly. “Do you want some?” you asked.

“I’m fine.”

In reality, he just couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. It didn’t help that he was so close to you; the two of you were sitting right across from each other, and he could feel your gaze on him as he spoke. It made him feel strange, to say the least.

The diner was mostly empty. A small number of tables were filled; it seemed as though some people also had the idea of having breakfast for dinner. It was mostly quiet, save for the double doors leading to the kitchen occasionally swinging about and the faint chatter coming from the few customers that interacted with one another.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t order anything,” you said, stabbing another piece of pancake onto your fork. “You love pancakes, Matt.”

“I’m good with my coffee,” he said. He was about to take another sip of his drink, only to pause when you held out a piece of pancake to him.

“Here,” you said, smiling. “You can share with me.”

He stared at you in shock, the lack of shades allowing you to look into his violet eyes.

“Come on, Matt,” you urged. “I can’t finish these on my own, anyway.”

Knowing that you wouldn’t stop unless he gave in, he gave a small grumble before reluctantly opening his mouth. His cheeks were now a faint pink, and you couldn’t help but feel your own cheeks warm as you fed him the bite.

“I put extra maple syrup on that one,” you said. “I know how much you like that stuff.” You gave a small laugh at your own words, remembering that Matt had also poured some syrup into his coffee when he thought you weren’t looking.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you continued to eat, occasionally giving Matt a bite in between his sips of coffee.

~

Heavy footsteps followed your own as you made your way up the front porch steps. Your brother had rented the house for a month; while the world meeting was held in Canada and only lasted for a day, he had rented the home for a month so that the two of you would have more time to explore the country.

“Thanks for today, Matt,” you said, reaching the front door. “I had fun.”

The Canadian stood at the bottom of the steps, not bothering to make his way up entirely. It was already late; he had to leave soon in order to avoid a lecture from Oliver once he got home.

Hands shoved into his pockets, Matt gave a small nod at your words.

“Get home safe, okay?” you said. “And message me when you do. I want to make sure you get home safely.”

You really were too nice. He watched as you took out a key from your pocket, unlocking the front door.

Matt couldn’t stop himself. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

“Hm?” You had been halfway inside already, and you turned to look at him. “What is it?”

“Your ex-boyfriend,” he said. “Forget about him, okay? He was a fucking asshole.” He looked off the side, and even in the dark you could see his slight blush. “You deserve someone better. Someone who’ll do things when you’re comfortable.”

“Matt…”

He didn’t have time to react as you made your way back down the steps, grabbing him by the front of his flannel in order to pull him down. He felt a slight pressure on his cheek, and his eyes widened at the realization that you had kissed him.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He couldn’t do anything but stare as you let go of his shirt and headed back up the stairs, giving him a small wave before disappearing into the house.

After a few seconds of standing there, Matt shook his head and began to make his leave, unaware of the fact that he now held a slight smile.

~

[Bonus]

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Kuya...”

Your older brother gulped at the sound of your voice, turning around slowly. He had been watching the two of you from his bedroom window.

You stood there, a smile on your face. Though your smile was usually sweet, the way you stared at him sent shivers down his spine.

“Were you watching us?” you asked.

Your brother gave a nervous laugh in response. “Aha, (Y/N), you know-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, for you had already thrown a slipper at his face.

“Mind your own business next time!” you huffed, ignoring his groans of pain and weak apologies as you headed towards your room.

~

Translations:

Kuya - older boy/older brother

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / Modern Vikings AU, Ivar x F!Reader, Chapter 3

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note & content warning: mentions of depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts; all pertaining to Ivar, not reader. mentions of therapy, medication and past history of self inflicted & blooming trauma. please read at your own risk. my messages are always, always open for anyone who may ever need a listener. anything in italics indicates a flash back. there are so many fucking feelings in this chapter that I just, am apologizing now. but there’s smut!

✎

It was gloomy the morning you remembered finally catching a glimpse of Ivar’s scars. Adorned and nearly smothered by him in his bed, the small snores from him somewhere draped across your skin, traveling over the plains in warm boulders. You were always drawn to the artwork on his limbs, there was always a smaller detail you missed and found within your next search but through the endless gazes you finally caught sight of the jagged white flesh. The since healed lacerations and your medical knowledge took full force of your mind. They were scars, they were healed scars, but they were scars from the straight edge of a razor blade. With such precision and such aftermath you knew they were the scars with one intent within their making. And they were there to tell you the secret horrors Ivar had not yet spoken—that there was a point where he felt his heart should no longer beat, and his lungs should no longer fill and that his life was meaningless. And that he should end it.

*

“Can I ask you something?” You finally find yourself mumbling; words floating through the cabin of the parked ambulance on stand by. Hvitserk’s coffee halfway through to his stomach when you peep in such a meek voice he almost coughs the molten liquid back out.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N,”

“How bad is Ivar’s depression?” And you simply ask. No foreword to the speech, no coating of sugar or dusting of fake joy. As blunt as you had been trained to voice the death of a loved one to their family. “I saw the medication in his cabinet, and I saw the scars on his wrists. I know it’s none of my business because he’s your brother, but…” and you can’t find a lie to justify it. Not ready to spill to your partner about the times Ivar had spilled into the condoms with you.

“Bad,” Hvitserk says, and just as bluntly. “He…he tried to kill himself in college. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how he’s never available Saturdays from eleven to noon, but that’s when he has therapy. I had been trying to convince him since high school to see someone, and Floki finally got through to him not too long ago,” He adds. “When I got that phone call from mom that he was in the hospital—I felt like such a failure, Y/N, because I knew it was coming and I did nothing to stop it,” Your hand goes to his wrist for a second, a quick squeeze of added support as you listen.

“Sometimes people refuse what’s good for them, Hvitty,” You start. “You should know that—how many times have we explained to someone why they should go to the hospital with us, but they still refuse?” He finally cracks a smile at that. “Do you think he’s in a better place now, mentally?”

“Either that, or he’s just stable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ivar doesn’t like to talk about his feelings…”

“Wow Hvitserk, I had no idea,” You tease, nudging him with both your elbow and sarcastic tone as the voice on the radio fills into the cabin. Your stand by is over and the conversation is dropped as you leave the scene.

*

There had been instances where you think he might be ready; he might understand that the new gifting of your relationship status might help him to realize you aren’t joking when you offer to listen. You’d listen to Ivar talk until he ran out of things to say if it came to that. More times now the words perched themselves on his lips, ready to spring forwards but he keeps pulling them back. He keeps swallowing them because they’re mixed like bile and stew and far too gross, far too un-human for him to even want to try to speak them to you. And then Ivar kicks himself for drowning these demons who have started to learn to swim and he sees you in your uniform and remembers that nothing phases you. You watch open heart surgery on the television while you eat his mother’s lasagna without a care in the world or a realization that what you were doing is unusual. 

“Can I talk to you?” Ivar says bluntly, sitting like a cowered dog in the living room and you’re hardly through his front door when he asks. You can feel how your head rises slowly, a quick snarky word to come back but you bite down on your tongue so roughly you can taste blood as you just look at him. You have never seen a man of his stature try to look so small, try to be so invisible. Worry comes to your face just as quickly as the next breath passes through your diaphragm and you’re on the couch before you even take your shoes off. “It’s messy,” He finally admits. Shallow and dead and you can see the broken boy that has tried to hide himself through the bulked muscles and the tattoos; the glare through his blue eyes and the curved lip.

“Most of what involves the human body is messy, Ivar,” You find yourself saying back, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. It sounds like you’re trying to tell the parent of a dead child that you know how they feel but you don’t. And you never will. But Ivar shedding this skin for you feels like you’re walking through the motions on a call, eyes from crowds of people crawling over and stuck on your every move. And every move that comes next like they’re watching a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve disconnect that what is happening is real, it’s someones life. Just like how you have to disconnect. But in this moment it’s Ivar, and you’re present. 

“Like paint,” Ivar mumbles next. 

“Yeah, like paint,” You repeat and there’s a smile on your lips for a second. “Ivar? You don’t do that anymore, do you?” You finally find the courage to ask.

“No,” Ivar says as he glances down at his right hand’s wrist, shoving the skin next to the sweatshirt he’s wearing as if rubbing it on the gray cotton will make those scars dissipate. “I get tattoos instead,” That causes a sick button to click in your consciousness as to why Ivar is so heavily covered from his shoulders to his ankles in artwork. How the sting of the needle dawning the creations reminded him of the blade he tried to use to make the mess of thoughts fly away. To make the demons come free through his skin and leave him with peace, if only a moment. 

“What helps? What helps you stay present?” You ask. Ivar blinks far too many times, sorting through his brain for the answers as if it’s a container of memorabilia that’s so unorganized even his mother can’t stand the sight of it.

“My brothers help, sometimes,” He says. “I think about how devastated my mom would be. I think about Floki. I think about all of the people in my life who say they want me here even when my mind is trying to tell me I don’t deserve to be.”

“I want you here, Ivar.” You say back and catch how he looks at you when you admit such.

“Why? Have you seen yourself, Y/N? You could have anyone you want and you choose me…” The sentence breaks your heart but you now know the darkness the climbs between his ears. The seed planted so long ago in the depths of brown ground somewhere and you want to pull it from the mental garden. You want to rip the roots right from the soil and burn them so they never have a chance to infest any farther.

“No one makes me feel the way you do, Ivar,” Are the first words from your mouth. “You make me smile, you make me feel important—you remind me how to escape. Even on the worst possible days I can have, you bring me back to reality.” You want to tell him how he’s addicting, how there’s a quality to him you can’t articulate but always keeps you coming back. How you want to keep coming back because both your mind, and your body know it’s safe. How he was someone so mysterious from the outside but past every highly built wall is a man who is just so simply himself. “Because you’re you, Ivar. With the bachelor’s degree in calculus, and the copious amounts of tattoos, and a heart of gold that…you forget that you have,” You finally add. “You’re someone different to the rest of the world, but you’re the real Ivar around me,” You worry that the silence that over takes him is a sign of something else. A sign that you spoke too much, again, and scarred him for more than he could withstand. And then he smiles. 

But you can’t understand why—why he smiles for someone like you. The one who let him design your first ever tattoo to his heart’s content. The one who has the same twisted sense of humor. The one who will bicker back and challenge him. The one who gets to see him fall apart between your legs. The one who makes him hard, and has him make those noises. The moans, the heavy panting and rasped groans as he bottoms out and moves through you. The one who gets to watch how his eyes snap shut, and his mouth drops open when you clench around him; how his entire back tenses when he’s close. How he holds you as he fills the rubber with everything he has. The man who loves your nails trailing on his skin. The man who smothers you every night that he spends with you, and every morning when you wake and he’s still there. Making you coffee and cooking you breakfast. How he knows your takeout order from your favorite places, and your work schedule. What food to have at his own apartment, and what movies he should have on demand. The spare clothes he keeps there for when you come over after work, ready to take the ambulance grime from your skin. The pads that are in his bathroom closet, the painkillers. The bottle of “girly white wine” that he won’t admit to drinking too, because it is damn good wine. The man who knows to check in with you during the day, and again to make sure you really are alright. The same man who knows if you don’t text him back, you and Hvitserk have gone knee deep into either a bullshit call, or a tragic one. As shocked as you were that he was listening to what you were saying—and taking it to heart—you were stunned that you hadn’t caught on to how obvious it was that Ivar was in love with you. Even with all of the time you spend crammed between your own thoughts.

“There’s a lot to sort through,” Ivar says again.

“That’s okay, Ivar,” You remind him, your head resting on his shoulder and you feel him shift, move his arm to encompass you as you curl against his side.

“You smell like bleach,” He softly laughs, his nose deep against your hair and you snort, reminded of the decontamination duties you were gifted from the calls today.

“Better than Hvitserk, who got puked on,” You reply. “Shower?” And you can feel Ivar nod against you. 

His hands don’t move rapidly to shed your clothing, or to shed his own. There’s a certain calmness through his motions as he waits for the water to warm, slipping your polo from your shoulders, and planting his lips in its wake. Against the base of your neck, your spine, hugging your body flush against his in front of the mirror. Your eyes catch sight of his hands coming back around you, squeezing your breasts and you can’t stop the moan that crawls from your mouth. The traces of artwork on his fingers as his lips move from your neck, to the shell of your ear and graze your pulse point. There’s a push from your backside against his groin, and Ivar growls in response, humming not far after as you feel how his cock hardens the farther his hands roam.   

Down your sides, your abdomen, swirling through your folds and dipping between them to catch your juices. Circling against the bundle of nerves he knows so precisely and you moan twice as loudly, and he does too as you moisten to his fingers. Your hands move to grab at him, anywhere they can and you find one hand holding his neck and the other wrapping around his length. Your nails crawl to his hair, pulling the locks down as his fingers take to moving quickly, spreading your womanhood and arousal and you suddenly can’t wait much longer to have him. And he can tell by how you whimper, whisper to him about how you want to feel him inside of you and there’s no fight anywhere on his body to try to deny the tone of your begging. Ivar’s eyes catch yours in the mirror as he finally pushes into you, the cold porcelain sink calming the heat of your skin as he bottoms out and rests his body against yours. There’s a sinful moan that comes through his lips as his eyes bore into yours, with the squeeze from your walls and warmth you spread through him and at first he can’t move, he only wants to savor it. His eyes finally close as he slips away from you, pushing in once more as your body rocks to the sink, singing back to him as the steam from the forgotten shower starts to fog against the mirror. Your name is through his lips as he moves, tattooed hands coming to find yours as he moves your body with each thrust, each timed sensation and you feel your own orgasm approaching. His mouth open on your ear, eyes screwed shut between love and ecstasy as his breath tickles down your face and you’re close now, far closer and far faster than you’ve ever been

“Ivar—” comes your voice and there’s only a hum in response, wordlessly pleading for you to let go because he’s got you, and you know that. Your knuckles white washed against his as you finish, shaking against the sink and you miss how Ivar’s eyes watch you unfold. Studying the pleasure laced in your features. 

“Where, baby?” He says quickly, and you shudder as you remember he’s bare now, condom long since forgotten but there are still the small pills you swallow. Still working somewhere you know of, but the accuracy decreases when you take them irregularly—and there’s a big part of your life that calls for that to happen. The alarming lights and loud tones. But you know that you’re safe. With Ivar you’re always safe.

“Inside,” You finally say, his hips stopping to starve off the inevitable as he waits for you to be sure, as he waits to see the seriousness on your face so he knows you aren’t lying in the heat of the moment. And you have to say it again for him to start up again, remind him that you have a safety net. The sensitivity in your cunt melts as he keeps moving and you can tell another orgasm is starting to build. Ivar reaches from your hand quickly and starts his fingers against your clit, quick circles as you hear him get louder, feel his other arm move to crush you and you catch his face as he finishes. The sight searing in your vision and colliding with how he moves with you and your second release rolls through you. His seed spilling and you both moan, his lips still plastered against your ear and you can feel the shake through his whole body as he floats back down. The tense in his thighs pushing you against the counter. There’s a whimper next from him, as he stills, wrapping tightly to hold you there, like it was all a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. 

“I love you,” You hear him say against your skin and you’re right there to repeat it back to him. “You don’t have to mean it,” He then tries and you already know what he’s doing.

“I do, Ivar,” You say back, trying to make him look at you through the mirror but his eyes are still closed. He slowly slips from you, his release sticking between your thighs as he slides away and you’re only then able to turn in his arms. Reaching forwards to pull his mouth against his. “I love you. You and me Ivar, against the world,” You say and he hums at that, a small snicker not far after. 

“I like how that sounds, baby,” His smile comes next, dopey and boyish as he finally looks into your eyes and understands that you don’t doubt any part of him. You love it all—the good and the bad and the evil things he may think about himself. You love them all because you know he feels the same way when it comes to you. “The hot water’s going to run out soon,” He mumbles as he holds you. And standing in the shower is not much more different, still wrapped up safely in his arms as you both feel the troubles melt down the drain.

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[ptergwen]

4 times peter loved you and 1 time he said it

warnings: angst, swearing, and flash being a dickwad (love him tho)

a/n: i wasn’t sure if i would ever finish this bc i started in march? and gave up but i really like the concept so i made myself get back into it and AHH i’m really happy with how it turned out! fingers crossed y’all like too ahaha. also this is unrelated but send me requests!

-

to say you and peter were each other’s missing halves would be an absolute understatement. there wasn’t a secret you didn’t share, an inside joke you didn’t have, a text or call left unanswered, or a second you weren’t on the other’s mind.

it had been like that since your first day of freshman year. you took the seat next to peter in first period spanish, and the rest was history.

peter knew you better than you knew yourself. as cheesy as it sounded, it was true. he could guess what you were going to order at a restaurant before you picked up the menu. if you had a bad day, he’d come over to your place with tissues and hugs, without you having to ask. he knew all the little things.

you? you were a peter parker encyclopedia. you watched all his favorite movies so he could rant to you about them, and you’d actually understand what he was saying. whenever he felt overwhelmed by his chaotic life, you found a way to calm him.

you two were soulmates in best friend form.

best friends, nothing more.

♡ 1.

you had an arm around peter’s neck as you picked at some fruit on his lunch tray. his head was resting comfortably against your cheek, whole body leaning on you. impromtu cuddle sessions weren’t unusual for the two of you. they worked in both of your favors. peter was your own personal heater, and you were just really comfortable to nap on, in his opinion.

“are you gonna eat all my grapes? i was looking forward to those,” peter whined, taking one out of your hand. “are you gonna keep using me as a pillow?” you challenged. he responded by moving his head to your shoulder and chewing. “then, yes. i am gonna eat all your grapes.”

“you know what two people who share food are?” ned chimed in from across the cafeteria table. already knowing what he was implying, you sighed. “what, ned?” he cupped his hand over his mouth like he was about to spill the world’s biggest secret. “a couple.”

it wouldn’t be a regular day without ned trying to play matchmaker for you and peter. the idea made peter scoff. “leave us alone, man. that doesn’t even make sense.” “yes it does!” ned nudged mj for backup. she only raised her hands in defense. it was always a hard pass from her on getting involved in these types of things, unless she found a reason to.

“really? how?” you grabbed peter’s milk and took a sip just for the hell of it. he chuckled at that, forgetting he was supposed to be annoyed with you. a bit of milk dripped down your chin in the process. “oops,” you grimaced at yourself and licked it away.

something about the whole thing made peter’s heart clench. it was so... you were so... cute. cute was definitely the word he was looking for. wait, what? that was new. peter had always thought you were pretty and all, but he’d never found himself endeared like this over such a little thing you did. or had he? no. nope. it was ned’s stupid theory messing with him. that was all.

“y/n, dude, everyone knows it’s a thing. like, why else would someone give up their whole lunch? it’s flirting,” ned interrupted peter’s sudden thoughts about your cuteness. the smug look on his face made you want to throw the tray at him.

before you even joined their friend group, ned was on a mission to set the two of you up. peter described you to him and mj as “the actual sweetest girl ever. she makes me laugh a lot. you guys gotta meet her.” mj obviously ‘tsked’ at him, but a light bulb went off in ned’s head. peter was crushing. he just didn’t know it yet.

part of how you and peter got so close was that ned and mj used to back out of group plans. you’d end up hanging out alone most of the time. of course, it was ned’s idea. a successful idea, yes, but neither of you understood the obsession. apparently it was a guy in the chair’s duty to be a good wingman, and you should leave it to him. whatever that meant.

“if i remember correctly, you and your mom went halfsies on a piece of cake at your birthday party last year. what are you trying to tell us, leeds?” mj asked with a smirk. you and peter looked at each other and burst into laughter, ned’s mouth hanging open. the girl could really get someone when she wanted to.

“shut up, you guys! that’s different!” “so is y/n stealing my food and you calling it sharing,” peter made a point of saying more to you than ned. despite his words, he pushed the tray over to you. it was basically yours, anyway.

you thanked him with a pat on his cheek and popped more grapes into your mouth. in that moment, peter decided he’d get you all the grapes in the world if he could. jeez, he seriously needed to reel it in.

ned was only going to keep going now. “see that? peter’s such a sweet boyfriend. isn’t he, y/n?” he cooed and clasped his hands under his chin. you didn’t have the chance to change the topic before flash appeared at your table. he’d probably overheard your conversation. “penis parker is somebody’s boyfriend? good one.”

feeling peter tense up next to you, you put a hand on his shoulder to let him know you were there. you’d been in too many of these situations. the way flash talked to peter pissed you off in ways you didn’t think were possible. he was fine with everybody else, so why did he choose to pick on him? peter was the least deserving person of having to put up with it from anyone.

“just ignore him, okay? he’ll get bored and leave. works every time,” you reminded peter. too uneasy to say anything, he reached back and put his hand on top of yours. he tried to focus on how nice your touch felt instead of the fact that he was about to be humiliated by flash yet again.

“peter could totally get a girlfriend! he has, like, tons of girls after him,” ned attempted to back peter up, pleased with himself. groaning, peter put his head down on the table. he couldn’t bare to watch his friend destroy what was left of his social life. “you’re really pushing this now. stop talking,” mj warned in a whisper yell to ned. that didn’t stop flash from hearing her.

“she’s right. even parker agrees! look at him,” he snickered at peter’s embarrassed state. you’d had more than enough of him at that point. screw the silence. it wasn’t going to cut it for this one. while wingman ned was still making up stories, you tapped peter’s shoulder to find out how he was doing. his head remained down.

“you okay? want me to say something?” “i’m used to it, and no. i don’t wanna make you deal with him.” peter hated putting his issues on other people, but you couldn’t stand another second of listening to the things flash was saying. you cut into an argument between him and ned about peter’s body count. like his was any higher.

“fuck off, flash!” he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “huh?” “i said fuck off. anyone would be so lucky to date peter. you’re probably salty at him all the time because it’ll never be you,” you finally snapped. his tough guy persona faltered for a few seconds at your words, ned and mj taking the opportunity to high five you for telling him off.

peter was glad his head was still down because his cheeks were pinker than he’d like to admit. did you really mean that? would you be lucky to date him, too?

“what are you, president of the parker protection squad? or are you two a thing?” flash quickly recovered. there he went trying to get the last word in. the embarrassment for peter if you denied it was exactly what he wanted, but you weren’t letting him have it.

“ask me again some other time.” you plastered on a shit-eating grin and waved goodbye. unsatisfied with your answer, flash huffed his way back to his own table. after he was gone, peter looked up at you with something you’d never seen before twinkling in his eyes.

“thank you, y/n. you really didn’t have to say all of that.” “oh, no. don’t thank me. i‘d do it for you anytime. i am president of the parker protection squad, after all.” your fake smile turned into a genuine one for him. peter couldn’t help but mirror it.

his was heart doing that thing again. he guessed it was because he loved you so much, but this love felt different somehow. it wasn’t the friend kind of love he’d had for you all those years.

it was the kind of love he saw in the rom coms you made him watch when you got to pick for movie night. cupid’s love was the official name for it. when he put two and two together, the realization smacked him straight in the face. ned was right.

peter was starting to fall in love with you, and there was no way he could stop.

♡ 2.

peter was a workaholic. patrolaholic to be exact, especially when he had a reason. he’d sometimes find himself in a cycle of getting home late and going out early for days on end. he’d gotten used to the sleep deprivation. his grumbling stomach from missing meals wasn’t too big of a deal either. not when he had a city to save.

it was also a good distraction from everything else going on in his life. man, did he need a distraction. after peter came to terms with the fact that he loved loved his best friend, he narrowed it down to two options; telling you about his feelings or taking them to his grave. since the city was so busy, he was thankful he could throw himself into patrolling and not decide just yet.

may would usually only allow peter to patrol on weekends. school existed, and he had to take breaks. peter really wanted to help out more, so he proposed an idea that could potentially let him up it to the full seven days. he had to make it home in one piece every night for a trial week. that would prove to may he could handle it.

ignoring his black eye on tuesday and limp on thursday, it worked out. peter was positive he could finish off the week just fine. may didn’t have the same optimism. she decided that so much as a scratch on friday and it was strike three. friday came, and peter had impressively managed to end the day, like he thought, just fine.

he did one last swing around the neighborhood he was in, then started heading back to queens to gloat to may. on his way, he remembered he had to text you goodnight. he was bound by a pinky swear to you that he would do it every time he finished patrolling.

peter being spider-man was something you figured out only a few months after he got his powers. he technically exposed himself, and you pieced everything together. it all happened when spider-man offered to walk you home from school one day.

the way he rubbed the back of his neck while asking was a nervous habit that was oddly familiar, and urged you to say yes. you also thought it was strange how even though he didn’t ask for your address, he somehow knew where he was taking you. then again, he was spider-man. it was his job to know new york city and the people living in it.

you came to the conclusion you were making things up until he was about to leave. he walked you to the door of your apartment building and said, “stay safe, squirt.” nobody called you that besides peter. he came up with it because he had recently grown a few inches taller and could finally give you hell for being the short one.

needless to say, peter didn’t take off like he was intending to. he realized his slip up as soon as the nickname came out of his mouth. you brought him upstairs and had a long afternoon of questioning, explanations, and making promises.

peter typed out a message telling you he was fine and to go to sleep. as he was about to hit send, he swung too low and smacked his head right into a traffic light. that was what he got for texting while swinging. he could imagine mj giving him one of her famous safety lectures already, but that wasn’t first on his list of worries. he had a throbbing head and may’s third strike to deal with.

crap, may couldn’t know about this. she’d ban him from patrolling probably forever. going home was out of the question, but peter was in desperate need of an ice pack. there was already a bump forming from where the light hit him. his next choice would be to go to happy, only he couldn’t do that because he‘d tell may.

peter’s hands worked faster than his brain, and he started swinging over to your apartment. the overthinking began soon after. nobody wants to deal with a surprise appearance from their possibly concussed friend at 2 a.m. besides, what would he say? he’d barely seen you all week. it wasn’t fair to you, but it was too late to turn back.

peter landed on the sidewalk with an “oof” and crawled up the wall of your building. when he reached your window, he knocked in the same rhythm that he always did. no answer. he knocked louder. no answer again.

seeing as he had no other option, peter had to let himself in. he pushed on your window to see if it was unlocked. thank god it slid up then, but he made a mental note to remind you about keeping it locked another time. he climbed through the window with as little noise as possible so your family wouldn’t hear.

after navigating in the dark, peter pulled off his mask by the side of your bed. he instantly melted at the sight of you. your face was squished into your pillow, hair sprawled everywhere. you’d must have fallen asleep waiting for his text because you were holding your phone. peter was sure he’d never seen something so adorable.

he let himself stand there and watch the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. the bump on his head was no longer a priority. peter was utterly and completely entranced with you. god, why was he acting like this? oh, right. he was secretly in love with you.

before peter could help himself, he brushed some hair that had fallen into your eyes away with his fingers. you squirmed in your sleep, peter pulling his hand back. he was such an idiot sometimes. your eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

“peter? ‘s that you?” you squinted to see in the darkness of your room. he moved closer. your legs dangled over the bed as you slowly sat up. “yeah, it’s me. sorry to wake you.” he went to scratch his head out of nerves, but stopped when he remembered it really freaking hurt right there.

“‘s okay. i was hoping you’d come over soon. missed you all week.” you frowned at the red and blue clad boy in front of you. except for school, you hadn’t seen peter the past few days. “lots of crime to fight lately?” “missed you more, and yeah. been kicking lots of asses.” the awkwardness peter was imaging faded away when he plopped down next to you on your bed.

“how’s your eye doing? and the limp?” you turned his head towards you by his chin. he exhaled in relief. “getting better, i think. now that we’re talking about injuries...” the sleepiness was knocked out of you. you all but leapt to your feet and turned on the lamp by your bed. peter had a feeling you’d slightly freak.

“we’ve been making small talk and you’re hurt? what happened, peter?” “i-i sort of, um, i was texting you and swung into a traffic light.” “oh my god, where?” he pointed at his forehead with a weak smile. surely enough, there was a big bump. you gasped. “please don’t be mad at me.” “i’m not mad at you. just feel bad it was kinda my fault. do you think you have a concussion?”

you weren’t sure what to do beyond the mostly useless first aid videos they played in gym class. being an avenger, peter had had his share of experience with wounds. whenever he came to you hurt, he talked you through how to help him. the most you’d ever dealt with was a few particularly deep cuts. this was not the same.

“i‘m not sure. you could try that finger thing?” he suggested. you crouched down in front of him. “good idea. let’s do that.” as you waved your index finger back and forth and peter’s eyes followed it seemingly well, his mind was elsewhere. he was thinking about crawling into bed with you and sleeping in your arms.

“well, you passed or whatever they say. i’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion. you’ll heal fast because of... you know.” you stood up and mimicked the way he shoots his webs. peter chuckled quietly. your thumb ran lightly over his bump, making him wince. “how bad does it feel?” “on a scale from one to ten it’s, like, a five and a half.”

although not what you wanted to hear, it was manageable. you hoped so, at least. “i’m gonna go get some stuff. change into comfortable clothes.” “yes, doctor y/n.” peter saluted you. you were happy to see he still felt up to joking around. biting your lip to hold back a smile, you made your way to the kitchen.

peter searched through the spare clothes he’d left here over the years. there were so many, you had to give him a drawer. he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then sat back down criss cross on your bed.

you came in shortly after with a water bottle, two advil, and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. “i was kidding about the whole doctor thing, you know.” “too bad.” you handed him the advil and water. “take these. they’ll help until your magic healing powers kick in.” peter took the pills while you pressed the ice pack to his bump. he took it from you when he was finished.

“is that any better?” “much better. i’m all good. i should probably go soon.” he mumbled, not meaning it but also not wanting to overstay his welcome. you’d already done so much for him. you stopped him from getting up by putting a hand on his chest.

“what? you already changed, and i’m not sending you home to get killed by may. just stay.” “are you sure? i don’t wanna bother you anymore. it was annoying for me to come here so late in the first place.”

a frown set on your face. “peter, don’t you remember my promise?” there was a beat of silence while he thought about it. “that you’d help out with spidey stuff?” “however and whenever i can. i don’t know what made you think differently just now, but nothing’s gonna change that. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or early in the morning. i’m always here.”

only you could reassure him just like that. peter was really lucky to have you. really, really lucky.

“right. you’re right. sorry for... whatever that was.” “you apologize too much.” you poked his chest to punctuate your statement and switched the light off. “sorry for that, too,” he teased, wanting a reaction from you. “peter benjamin parker, just get in the bed.” “yes, ma’am.” that was enough before you changed your mind and threw him out.

you rolled to lay on the other side of peter. still pressing the ice pack to his head, he laid down next to you. it didn’t take long for both of you to be settled under the covers. “try not to bang into the wall or something,” you joked and pulled your comforter up to your chin.

peter puffed some air out of his cheeks, tugging more of it back. “you can’t be mean and hog the blanket.” “it’s my bed, so i actually can. i’ll hog everything.”

to prove your point, you moved over to peter until there was no room between you. both of you knew it was an excuse to cuddle. he wasn’t mad about it at all. peter opened an arm for you. you curled into his side, letting him hold you close. his whole body relaxed as you hugged him against you. “goodnight, spidey.” “night, squirt.”

♡ 3.

“what does that cloud look like to you?” you pointed up at the sky. peter’s eyes darted around as he tried to find exactly which one you were talking about. there were a lot of them, in his defense. you made a big circle with your finger around the cloud in question.

“the really curvy one. right there.” “kinda looks like a tiger. can we keep walking now?” peter tugged your arm linked in his in an attempt to move you from the spot you’d randomly stopped in. he made a whiny noise when you didn’t budge.

“i think it looks more like a horse, and no. why are you in such a rush?” furrowing your brows at him, you tightened your grip on his arm. “because some people don’t like cloud watching, grandma.” “i only asked you about one! i’m just... trying to get the most out of today.”

with college around the corner, you and peter both had a lot to do and a little bit of time to get it done. your only hangouts had become some shared extracurriculars and weekly study group with your other friends. trying to binge watch your shows together on facetime hadn’t been easy, for one thing. you fumbled to keep your phone up more than you payed attention.

on a more serious note, being apart sucked majorly. it was going to be this times a million when you would inevitably have to split up in a few months. thinking about it for too long usually made you cry.

peter was struggling in other ways. his more than a friend feelings for you were only getting stronger. having all that love and not being able to give it to you was hurting like hell, and he had to just pack everything up and act normal during the rare moments you were together. you were both going through it.

this was the first sunday in what felt like forever that you and peter were both free. you decided that the nice weather called for a meetup at central park. so, there you were, arm in arm on your afternoon stroll.

“don’t say it like that, y/n. you’re making me sad.” peter let out a breath as you rested your head on his shoulder. “that was the point.” you started walking again, peter following next to you. he kicked at pebbles while you smiled up at him. that made him smile at his feet. you were getting really good at making him flustered.

“so, did you finish that pre calc packet?” peter asked to distract himself. you lifted your head off his shoulder with a groan. “peter, we’re not talking about school for once. let’s talk about literally anything else.” “like what?” you were about to make a suggestion, but something caught your attention.

you raced over to a swingset, dragging peter along with you before he could realize where you were taking him. you stopped in front of it and threw your hands up to present it to him. he let out a breathy laugh. “when was the last time you went on one of these?” you asked, taking peter’s arm again. peter shook his head. “way too long ago.”

with a smile, you walked him over and took a seat on one of the swings. peter sat on the one next to you. you spun around in a circle to see how much you could twist the chains, peter laughing. “y/n, what are you doing?” “having fun. you should try it sometime.” he backed up to get himself started and grabbed his own chains. “i do have fun. it’s just not in the ways you think.”

you untwisted yourself to watch peter. “so, how?” “well,” he started going higher, “i like learning about stuff, even the things we have to in school.” “everybody knows that. that’s the first thing i thought of.” you did know everything possible about him.

everything except his new feelings for you, but this wasn’t the time for him to blurt that out. he was still figuring out when or if he should.

“guess i’m not gonna say i like movies, either.” “singing?” you were swinging next to him, turning it into an unspoken competiton for who could get the highest. peter slowed down a bit since he’d had a head start. “i suck. the only person who’s allowed to hear me is you.”

“it’s possible to suck at something and still enjoy it.” the breeze blew your hair around, peter seeing it from the corner of his eye. he’d always loved how carefree you were around him. it rubbed off.

“remind me to force you to do karaoke one day.” “you’re so annoying.” that motivated you to kick off harder on the ground. peter huffed and tried to catch up to you. “don’t be mean to your only source of fun.” if that wasn’t true, he would’ve came up with a comeback.

the only time peter remembered to relax was when he was with you. it was usually because you reminded him. he skidded to a stop on the swing and looked up at you.

“why’d you let me win? was that too mean?” you looked over your shoulder. “nah, i just got tired.” “oh. we can do something else now. catch me?” “sure,” peter chuckled and got off the swing. he stood in front of you on the grass and waited for you to get lower. you clenched your teeth into a nervous smile.

“ready?” “ready.” swinging towards him, you jumped off and expected to land in his arms. you ended up completely on top of him instead.

the wind was knocked out of both of you, but peter had it worse because he broke your fall. your hands were on his shoulders and one of his was around your lower back. neither of you realized the position you were in. you were too busy trying to breathe again.

“god, that hurt.” “my bad,” peter mumbled. in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be complaining about this. “i should’ve warned you or something,” you dismissed him.

you were still hovering over peter, your lips dangerously close to his. he could’ve sworn they almost touched. that was when you got off of him. he only forced out a laugh. nothing ever went his way. you offered him a hand, oblivious to his inner conflict. peter took it and pulled himself up, falling into step next to you as you headed to another path.

that could’ve been a chance to make some sort of move, and he blew it.

♡ 4.

it hadn’t been easy for peter to move on from that day. his mind kept replaying the split second you almost kissed on an endless loop, and all he could do was come up with what he should’ve done in the moment.

things were getting to a point where he had no clue how to act around you. being your friend was hard, but becoming your boyfriend would be that much harder. his stupid feelings put him in an awkward place, and he was afraid you were starting to realize. he couldn’t lose you altogether.

you asked peter to meet you for coffee after school. it was this small place in between your apartments you’d both been to once before. they had really good cookies and an overall cozy feeling you liked. peter wasn’t sure what this was all about.

were you going to confront him? did ned say something? maybe it was a mistake to confide in his most gossipy friend about how he felt.

with a headache from stress and a heavy backpack hanging off his shoulders, peter walked into the café. he spotted you at a table near the window. you’d already taken the liberty of ordering, two drinks and a chocolate chip cookie waiting there. you looked up from your phone when peter pulled a chair out.

“hi.” you gave him a small smile and put your phone down. “i already got everything.” peter shrugged off his backpack with a grin. he sat down facing you. “thanks. sorry i’m kinda late. i had to stop at my locker.” you usually met him there. come to think of it, why hadn’t you today? you pushed peter’s drink over to him. “you’re fine. i came here early to get us a table, anyway.” phew.

peter bent the straw to his iced macchiato and took a sip. it made him feel grown up, casually drinking coffee with you over a boring conversation. adult life must’ve sucked. “so, how was the rest of your day?” he asked to fill the silence. you only had two classes without him after lunch, so that was a dumb question. he’d never had so much trouble talking to you.

“eh. betty fell asleep on me during this cold war documentary we had to watch.” “didn’t she say american history is her favorite?” you broke off a piece of the cookie with a laugh. “not after that. what about your day?” the light from the window was shining directly on you, blocking out everything else from peter’s view. he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were so bad, but that would be creepy.

you took a bite of your cookie and raised an eyebrow. he was staring. “uh, nothing interesting. i’m gonna patrol a little bit later.” peter sipped his drink again. you clicked your tongue and let out a breath. “that’s all you do these days.” he knew you were catching on to how off he’d been. what was he supposed to say? it would’ve helped if he’d prepared a few excuses.

“just trying to help out while i’m still here.” that was a half truth. “yeah, but you should still take some time for yourself.” you ripped open your straw wrapper and blew it at peter. he caught it just before it hit his face. rolling your eyes, you put the straw into your drink. “i hate your reflexes sometimes.” he shrugged one of his shoulders casually. “jealousy is a disease.”

neither of you said anything for a few minutes. you stared out the window while peter finished the rest of the cookie. he could tell something was on your mind. whenever you were deep in your thoughts, you sort of zoned out like this.

he was too nervous to ask you what was wrong because of the conversation you just had. it sounded like you had already considered he was being distant before today. his feelings aside, he needed to reassure you. that was more important.

“y/n?” you turned your head to look at him. “yeah?” peter’s gaze shifted from you to his thumbs twiddling in his lap. “i know we’ve both been really... busy lately, but i’m still here. don’t forget that.” a hint of a smile played on your lips. you would’ve hugged him if you could reach. “thank you, peter. i kinda needed to hear that.” he nudged your leg under the table. “of course. hey, you wanna come with me tonight?”

a couple of hours later, you were in peter’s arms on a rooftop that was much higher up than it looked. he insisted on taking you for a swing so you could get the full experience. he’d been trying to get you to do this for the longest time, so he wondered what made you agree today. you wanted to find out what was so enjoyable about it.

“i trust you, but you’re not gonna drop me, right?” your legs were around his waist, and he had one hand supporting you by your back. that wasn’t terrifying at all. you grabbed peter’s shoulders, the idea of it making you nervous. he wrapped his arm tighter around you.

“oh my god, no. i can always web you back up.” “peter! that’s not funny.” even behind the mask, you could tell he was smirking. “you’re always safe with me, squirt. don’t worry.” you brought your arms up to loop around his neck.

“i feel better now.” “good. i’m gonna jump when we get to the edge, okay?“ your whole body stiffened up. peter could sense it. as excited as he was to share this with you, he didn’t want to make you feel pressured. “or we don’t have to do it.” his voice was quiet. you tried to relax in his hold. “i’m just gonna close my eyes. i think that’ll help.” “we’re about to find out.”

peter started walking towards the edge of the building with you holding on even tighter to him, your eyes squeezed shut. he kept finding himself in situations where he was close to you in the ways he’d been wishing for, but never for the same reasons. it was bittersweet.

he bit down on his lip and aimed his free hand at a building. you squealed when he leaned back. “i’m jumping now,” he prepared you, and before you could respond, you were in the air. you hid your face in peter’s chest the second you felt yourself pretty much flying.

“what the fuck, you like this?” you had to yell so he could hear you. peter shot another web to keep swinging. “it’s really not that bad! try looking up!” he shouted back, clearly amused.

grip tightening around his neck, you slowly pulled your face away from him. he kept you close as he swung. you somehow convinced yourself you weren’t going to die by looking at something besides peter. your eyes landed on the sky behind his head.

the sun was almost completely set, deep pink and orange merging together against the glowing lights of the city. you were finally understanding why he liked this so much. it was beautiful.

peter peeked at you for a second to check on you. he swore his heart was going to explode out of his chest. the look of adoration on your face, it was even better than the view. it was the view. the little moments where peter got to see you this way made him realize how in love with you he really was.

“this is... wow. i get it now,” you laughed in disbelief, watching as the city whirled past you. peter smiled so big it hurt. “pretty awesome, huh?” one of your hands slid back down to his shoulder. “take me with you more often.”

♡ 5.

peter licked his lips out of habit as he held the door open for may, who was following behind him with a look of pride. he was about to graduate high school. the ceremony was being held in a really nice stadium-like place. trying to find it added minutes on to the parker tradition of being late to everything important.

peter wasn’t as concerned with his tardiness as he was with finding you.

while he tossed and turned in bed the night before, he went over his whole school year in his head. that meant little things and big things. he was starting to drift off until he remembered a conversation with ned a few weeks back. they decided on a deadline for peter to tell you about his feelings, and it was before graduation.

they chose it because if peter got rejected, he’d be over it by the time college started. that was the goal.

it wasn’t that peter had changed his mind. it was that he completely forgot. he didn’t have a solid plan for what he should do. these things needed to be decided way in advance. he ended up pulling something together last minute because it was you. plus, this extra pressure gave him the push to go through with it. somewhere between steps seven and eight, he passed out.

may rushed him to get ready because he’d slept past his alarm. the whole morning was a mess, and he had at most fifteen minutes to confess his love to you by the time he got there.

“you should go make sure you’re marked here. i’ll see you after. love you.” may pressed a kiss to his cheek and half-jogged to the auditorium for a seat. he squeezed her arm and headed off to check in. your whole grade was already lined up along the walls for what looked like miles. the deal was to tell you before graduation. he still had about ten minutes.

peter walked past hundreds of students with his heartbeat thumping in his ears. everyone was in alphabetical order, so it didn’t take too long to find you. relief washed over you when you saw peter. you were worried he wouldn’t show up at all. his cap was in his hand, hair getting tangled from running his fingers through it. he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“finally, i’ve been trying to call you all morning. where were you?” your tone was dripping with concern. “i overslept. there’s something i gotta tell you, y/n.” he gulped. you smiled in a way that was kind of pitying. “we’re about to start going inside. i- you have to wait, pete. go get lined up.”

this wasn’t how it was going to end. not again.

he looked around to see who was watching, then he grabbed your wrist. “peter, what are you-“ “just come with me really quick.” despite yourself, you let him lead you down the hallway. you dodged a couple of teachers having a conversation and went into a bathroom that was vacant by some chance. he let go of you after the door shut. you stood behind it while he walked over to a sink.

it was making you anxious to not be out there. you could be late. peter was the same way when it came to school, so you knew this had to be pretty serious. you gave up the battle with yourself and made your way over to him. he was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to get a stray curl back in place.

“let me help.” you stood next to him. he turned to face you, that same look of urgency still in his eyes. you used two fingers to brush through his hair. there was so much gel that it was wet enough to mess with. you smiled a bit and took your hand out of his hair. his hand was gripping the sink.

“you look good, pete. you smell good, too.” “so do you.” his voice was lower than usual. you flattened out the material of your blue gown. “thanks. so, talk to me. what’s up?”

the question was so simple, but way too many answers were running through peter’s brain. he wasn’t even sure he’d have enough time to explain everything now. this was why he needed a written out and carefully crafted plan.

but, like he said to himself last night, this was you. his best friend in the entire world and any other that might exist. the person who’s been there for his most embarrassing moments, and who’s been responsible for some of his best ones. if he couldn’t finally say the three words he’d said to you so many times before, what was the point?

his fingers drummed a steady rhythm while he mustered up the last remaining bit of courage in him. you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. “just, um...” he was stalling. he pulled his hand off the sink. “i... love you.” peter only glanced at you for a second, too afraid to see your reaction. “i love you, too. is everything okay?” his heart sank. you thought he meant it in the friend way.

that was what he got for being so terrible with words.

“no, y/n. not like that.” he blurted. you were lost. peter pressed his back against the wall and sat down. confused and equally worried, you sat next to him on the floor. “then what do you mean? you’re scaring me.” he checked the watch may made him wear to see how much time was left before graduation. four minutes. he really should’ve woken up on time.

“we have to get back in line soon. i don’t wanna miss-“ “i love you, y/n. i’m in love with you.” a weight that had been on peter’s chest for months was lifted just by saying it. you squinted your eyes at him, but said nothing.

“i’ve been trying to tell you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i just had to say it.” “fuck, are you serious?” you sounded what peter could only describe as disappointed. yeah, it was unrequited. here came a summer of crying. “i was gonna tell you first.”

peter’s breath hitched in his throat, and he swore you could hear it. he was so sleep deprived that it felt like he was hallucinating. you shook your head as heat came to your cheeks.

“how long have you...” peter trailed off, an eye crinkling smile interrupting him. “that day we went for coffee. something clicked, so i thought for a while and figured it out. i think i’ve loved you for a really long time.”

you inched closer to peter, just barely resting your head on his shoulder. for once, you felt like the shy one. he put his hand on top of yours. his thumb traced over each of your fingers. “i’d ask you out, but you know. we don’t really have time.”

“peter, it won’t take that long.” you giggled. he squeezed your hand in his. “hm. y/n, would you wanna go out with me after this?” you thought about teasing him for it, but he was right. you had to go. that was the friend still in you. “i’d love to go out with you, peter.”

with that, you both jumped to your feet and ran out of the bathroom. you were still holding hands, and a few classmates made faces when you rushed past them to get to your spots. you exchanged one last smile with peter before lining up.

the person in front of you said everybody was looking for you two. honestly, you didn’t care all that much. you were too excited for your date later. peter already knew he’d be checking his watch throughout the whole ceremony.

it was a best friend and soulmate thing.

[outsassing-nero]

I've seen posts about your dissertation so I thought I'd ask you. I need some motivation & pep talk because I fucked up (mental health etc.) Basically, the first draft of my thesis is due in 25-ish days and I have not even begun coding my data (news articles) and planning & writing any of the revisions. Can I still do it??? Do you still think I can? The deadline is in the 1st week of June. Helpppp. I am panicking. I don't know which task I should do first. Thank you!!!

hello there!! first of all, don't blame yourself if anything inside the project got a bit messed up! academic writing is pretty damn hard, and struggling is an inherent part of it :D when i was writing my undergrad thesis, my mental health was trash as well - the most important thing was only doing small chunks of work at a time and focusing on that alone!! you'll definitely manage to get everything organized!! the steps below are just what worked for me, so you can turn the order around etc:

write the introduction and outro at the very end. intros make a lot more sense once you know what you've actually written and whether there were any changes in the hypothesis etc

same thing with footnotes. it's better to go with the flow of writing and not lose your focus on a footnote for a single sentence just to forget what you wanted to say afterwards.

once you have a first draft of your table of contents and know what you want to do in each section, try to search for data/references for just the chapter you're writing now. it'll prevent you getting lost in the maze of all materials and stuff!

once you have your table of contents ready, bullet point the things you'd like to talk about and each of them. while writing, just cross them out once you''re done - in this way it may be easier to come up with connections between ideas and also not waste your time for things that are not that important

divide the work you have to do in two categories - the tasks that requires full focus, and the ones you can get done while watching a movie, in the evening etc. try to squeeze in the latter in your daily routine - it'll remove a lot of creative obstacles and focus on the stuff central for your idea

if you're in rush, you can do just two rounds of edits - first one wright after you finished writing, and the second one a day or two before handing everything!

las but not least - don't do too much in a day. when you overwork yourself, you basically waste your time on work that you'll have to edit heavily either way.

hope it helps :)!

[when-they-write-stuff]

3. I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

- -

IF DEREK THOUGHT ABOUT IT, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. The glow of bright blue eyes, the plumes of smoke rising into the air, the look in his sister’s eyes as they gradually bled to red. 

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. It was some kind of dance, slow footsteps to the music of one thing becoming another. Act one was the mistakes and act two was the consequences. The pain, the death, and the ruin.

It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was alone in the world. He was alone and there was no one left to tell him what happened next.

For a little while, at least.

It hadn’t always been like this. No, once Derek’s life had been his family, his friends, and the feeling of right, safe, and home. All of that was long before the smell of perfume on his clothes, the imprint of red lipstick on his cheek, and every horrible thing that continued to happen after that.

At some point in his life, everything changed. Derek changed.

And it was all bad until it wasn’t.

“You know what they call people like you?” Stiles asked, plopping down onto the couch at his side. Derek gave the boy a flat look, closing his book slightly, but Stiles didn’t seem to notice, shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth as he flipped on the TV. 

Derek sighed. “No, Stiles, I don’t. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles glanced over at him, eyes going from the book in Derek’s hands to his face, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Nerds.”

“Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles said, smirk growing. “Derek Hale, the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills, is a nerd. Whoever would have thought?”

Derek rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his book. Beside him, Stiles snorted and returned to crunching chips obnoxiously loud, flipping to the first channel that was playing something superhero-y. Derek tried to ignore all of that, glaring down at pages. 

Once upon a time, he just would have growled or maybe shoved Stiles off the couch in retaliation. Or, most likely, Stiles never would have been allowed to hang out in his loft at all.

But it’d been a few years. And Derek didn’t feel like doing any of that. Instead, he suppressed a smirk and focused harder on his book.

Then Isaac came into the room and gave them both a strange look. “The energy in this room is so weird. What did I miss?”

Derek instantly tensed and he gave the beta a warning look; which Isaac didn’t even seem to notice. But Stiles’s scent just flared with confusion and he glanced away from the TV, giving the beta a look that was one of pure judgment. “Energy, scarf-boy? Really?”

Isaac’s eyes flashed gold. “Watch the nicknames, Stilinski.”

“Oh yeah? Or what?”

Isaac bared his teeth. “I’ll rip your throat out.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles said, barking a laugh. “You’re as scary as a rabbit, scarf-boy. But Stilinski throat-ripping is Derek’s job, remember?”

This time, the look on Isaac’s face was one of mild horror and when he glanced over, Derek just rolled his eyes, burying his face in his book again. And his ears totally weren’t burning just a little. They weren’t.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, voice a bit smaller as he inched toward the kitchen. “Sure.”

Stiles snorted in triumph at that, stuffing another mouthful of chips into his mouth. And sometimes, Derek wasn’t sure if he was awed by how easily the boy could ignore certain things around him, or if he were slightly worried.

Maybe relieved. Relieved made more sense.

“Dude, Derek,” Stiles said, elbowing him in the side. Derek snapped out of his thoughts, giving Stiles a red-eyed look, but the boy ignored him. “This is my favorite part of the movie. Now tell me honestly, Batman or Superman?”

Derek didn’t answer, giving Stiles a flat look. But Stiles just elbowed him again, pointing toward the TV, and Derek slowly followed his gaze.

“I don’t know, Stiles. What’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference? What’s the difference?” Stiles gave him a wide-eyed look. “Oh my god, you’re the absolute worst, Sourwolf. I can never forgive you for that sentence. Did you really just say that to me?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine. Superman.”

“I’m so offended.”

“You wanted an answer.”

“No, correction, Sourwolf, I wanted the right answer. And that was Batman one-hundred-percent.”

Derek shook his head, trying to return to his book. Except, he couldn’t remember when he had gotten another ten pages in and Stiles was pressing up against his side much too close now, still muttering his displeasure. The boy’s scent was an unfair distraction and Derek swallowed a growl, glaring at the words that didn’t make sense anymore.

What had Isaac even meant? Strange ‘energy’ in the room?

“I need some air,” Derek said, shoving himself up. Stiles floundered to the side and shot him a look of pure confusion, but Derek ignored it. Because dammit, he couldn't think clearly and— and fucking Stiles.

“I’ll be back,” he practically growled out, grabbing his jacket and keys. And Stiles’s protests were left at his back as the door of the loft slammed.

Derek didn’t know when exactly he changed. It might have been gradual. It might have been slow.

Right now, it was fucking Stiles.

-

Stiles found him in the diner all the way across town.

Derek was honestly more than surprised to see the boy poke his head in through the door, grinning when his eyes landed on where Derek sat in the furthest booth. He didn’t even have a chance to react before Stiles was plopping down opposite him, that stupid grin still on his face.

“If you were hungry, Sourwolf, you could’ve just said something. My dad’s on a shift tonight so I’m making dinner alone.”

Derek’s chest automatically tightened at that. But Stiles didn’t even seem to notice, picking up the menu in front of Derek and surveying the options.

“And I have to point out that the curly fries at Mel's Diner fifteen minutes down the road are way better than here, but I’d still be down to split a plate. This place does have better milkshakes, though, if that makes you feel any better. Which— hey! How do you feel about ordering milkshakes too?”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

The boy finally looked up, scent sparking with surprise. Derek clenched his jaw, holding the amber-eyed gaze, and Stiles dropped his eyes after a long moment, wetting his lips. “I’m bothering you?”

Yeah, Derek nearly said. But the word caught in his throat at the last moment and he settled for a flat look, to which Stiles squirmed under.

“I can totally go, dude. I think I’ve got… something in my freezer at home.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Once more, Stiles looked surprised. But this time, a little amused too. “I had Isaac sniff you out, Smartiewolf. Then I kicked him out of the car and I’m pretty sure he’s still moping on the side of the street somewhere.”

Derek blinked. Stiles grinned.

“Dude, I’m joking. You forget that I have to keep an eye on my dad and the meals he sneaks during work. You literally come here all the time.”

“You… what?”

Stiles shrugged. “I hang out in my car around lunchtime over the weekend. My dad thinks because this place is across town, he’ll get away with it. But let’s be honest, that only worked for like, three weeks. He always looks a little too pleased when he comes home after sneaking a burger.”

“I don’t even know what to do with that information.”

Stiles’s eyes danced. “The point is, you’re always here. And I’m definitely the smartest one in the pack, Sourwolf. Besides Lydia. But I put two and two together!”

Derek stared at him for a long moment. His head spun but no words formed. But then thankfully, thankfully, someone cleared their throat to the side and his attention snapped sideways to see the waitress.

She smiled, eyes going between them. “And what can I get you two?”

Derek didn’t even open his mouth before Stiles was handing her the menu, that little grin back on his lips. “A plate of curly fries and two vanilla milkshakes.”

The waitress nodded, turning away. And as she moved back across the room, Derek turned his attention back to Stiles. “What?”

“Er… was that okay, dude?”

Derek honestly didn’t know what to say. So he just nodded and Stiles sat back, scent flooding with satisfaction. 

“Great. Cause I’m also like, seventy-percent sure my dad might attempt picking up a grease-filled meal for his shift tonight and if I can catch him in the act, then that's another victory in my book.”

“Right.”

There were a lot of things about Stiles Stilinski that Derek just didn’t understand. From the first time he’d met him— and been oh so tempted to rip his throat out— to all these years later when he was still figuring the boy out. And this was definitely one of the moments.

But sese, it wasn't the distance or the milkshakes that had brought Derek here. No, it was the memories of Cora messing with the jukebox that used to be across the room, or Laura moving around, taking orders in her waitress uniform. It was homework spread across the table in front of him while he waited for his mom to come pick him up for basketball practice.

It was the prelude before act one. All the memories of a life he’d nearly forgotten in the years that had passed.

Stiles was talking about something, but Derek was barely listening. Instead, he looked at Stiles and wondered why nothing about the boy’s presence felt… wrong. It wasn't intrusive, Derek didn’t want to flash the red eyes or rip his head off.

It was the memories of the past. The smell of vanilla and fries as the waitress came back with their order. And then Stiles, looking at him with bright amber eyes.

It was the strangest of changes.

Derek glared down into his milkshake and tried to tell his stomach to stop feeling so weird.

-

Avoiding Stiles Stilinski really wasn’t as easy as Derek had hoped it would be.

Or, avoiding might not be the right word. Derek just made sure he wasn’t at the loft when Stiles was supposed to come over. He steered clear of the boy at pack meetings and made sure to pair him up with Scott or one of the other betas during the weekly patrols. He claimed the chair furthest from the TV during pack movie nights and excused himself to bed early when it seemed like no one was going to go home that night.

But he wasn't avoiding Stiles. And it wasn’t weird.

Boyd told him it was weird.

“In three years, I’ve never been put with Stiles on a patrol,” he said. “Do you know what we talked about all night?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Boyd crossed his arms.

“The weather.”

Derek couldn’t help but wince at that. Though, to be fair, that wasn't the worst pairing choice he'd ever made. He’d put Erica and Isaac together due to separating Erica and Boyd, and that had ended with Isaac coming back to the loft with a broken tennis racket stuck around his neck. Derek hadn’t even dared ask for the story behind all of that.

“You’re avoiding Stiles,” Boyd continued, bringing Derek back to reality. “And everyone knows it.”

“I am not.”

“Even Scott knows it. And he’s generally clueless.”

Derek clenched his jaw, glaring at the opposite wall. Then, reluctantly, he swallowed his pride. “And Stiles?”

“Have you even caught his scent lately?”

Derek had been doing his best not to. Not to pay even the slightest bit of attention. Boyd sighed. 

“You should pay him a visit. And bring curly fries.”

Derek really didn’t want to do that. But before he could say anything, Boyd was walking away. And wasn’t Derek the alpha here? He scowled at the beta’s back and then slowly glanced toward the loft door, fishing the Camaro keys out of his pocket.

He was the alpha here. He would make the decision whether or not to visit Stiles— and it wasn’t like Boyd had made any good points.

One hour later, Derek pushed open Stiles’s window and climbed into his bedroom, a bag of curly fries in one hand.

Stiles was working at his desk, muttering under his breath. But the moment Derek placed a foot on the floor, he was jumping up with his pen pointed out threateningly. Except, then recognition flashed through his eyes and the boy’s shoulders slumped a little.

For less than five seconds. And if remembering himself, Stiles’s eyes suddenly flashed again and he straightened right back up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Derek?”

Derek pulled himself the rest of the way into the room and wordlessly offered the bag of curly fries forward. Stiles hesitated for a moment before taking it and giving the contents a sniff. Then his eyes flicked back up, narrowing, and he pulled the bag protectively into his chest.

“Okay, so you brought food. Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Why would I apologize?”

The words slipped out before Derek could stop them and he instantly hated himself. Stiles clenched his jaw and Derek finally caught the scent in the room— that other than fries.

Dejection was probably a pretty good word for it. Dejection mixed with anxiety and a hint of anger.

Derek swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles didn’t say a word, still glaring at him. Glancing down at the floor, Derek shuffled his feet.

“I shouldn’t have started avoiding you.”

“What the hell was up with that?”

Internally, Derek fought the urge to turn around and pull himself right back out the window. He figured that would probably cause more problems than it would fix and he really didn’t want to have to go through this again. Ever.

“Derek—”

“I just needed to think,” Derek said, cutting him off. Stiles drew back a little, gripping the bag of fries tighter, and Derek sighed, jamming his hands deep into his pockets. “It wasn’t you.”

“It— it wasn’t me? What is that even supposed to mean, Derek?”

Honestly, Derek was still figuring that out.

“I swear to god,” Stiles said. “If this is some sort of ‘it wasn’t you, it’s me’ speech, I’m never going to talk to you again. I’ll probably be confused as hell and more than a little concerned about what’s going on in your wolfy brain, but I’ll still never talk to you again.”

That was one option, Derek figured. Then he hated himself for that thought.

Stiles stared at him as Derek stayed silent. And it was like the boy was pleading with him now; silent and strained, knuckles white and eyes searching Derek’s face for any hint of an answer.

Derek’s mind spun. Stiles’s shoulders drooped.

“Go away, Derek.”

Fuck.

Before Derek could stop himself, he took a step forward. Step one. Hands in fists in his pockets, heart thudding against his chest. It had been weeks since he’d been in Stiles’s room and it all crashed over him as familiar, and home, and right.

“I don’t want to,” he said, then hesitated. Stiles blinked.

“What?”

“I don’t want to,” Derek said again. “Go, be gone. Not be around you.”

Stiles’s heart audibly skipped a bit. Derek swallowed hard.

“I like it,” he said. And why the hell was this so hard? Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Derek took another step forward. Step two. “I like being around you.”

Stiles’s scent was anxious and confused now and the boy nervously licked his lips, not moving from the spot where he stood. Derek tried not to follow the action, gathering himself up to take one step closer. Step three.

“I like you, Stiles.”

Silence.

That’s what crashed over the room as Stiles stared at him. The urge to flee the room struck Derek the moment the words came out, and he stuffed his hands right back into his pockets, hunching in on himself.

Silence was all there was. Stiles continued to stare at him and Derek couldn’t even hear the boy’s heartbeats over the white noise filling his ears. 

Fuck.

“Never mind,” Derek said, the words suddenly spilling out. “Never mind, forget it.”

Before he could stop himself, he was turning around and heading back to the window. Forget the avoidance strategy— he might just have to leave Beacon Hills altogether. Go back to New York, find a job fixing up old cars again.

But then there was a hand on his sleeve, keeping him from taking another step and Derek froze. The window— his escape— was only a few feet away.

Slowly, Stiles pulled him back and Derek didn't fight, turning around to face him. Amber eyes and a mole dotted face.

Soft lips that were barely containing a small smile.

“Derek,” Stiles said, the smile slowly growing bigger. “Did you just say what I think you did?”

But Derek was rooted to the spot and just like that time back at the diner, all those weeks ago, he had absolutely no voice.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, stepping closer. “Sourwolf?”

“Your fries are going to get cold.”

Yeah, that’s the first thing that left Derek’s mouth.

Except, Stiles’s face just lit up and he laughed, the sound like wind chimes in the breeze. There was a new scent in the room and Derek could have melted as feelings of happiness washed over him. Stiles’s hands slipped down to Derek’s own and the boy's fingers brushed against his, before threading through them carefully.

Derek’s chest tightened and it felt so weird.

“Derek,” Stiles said, eyes dancing. “Do you know what they call people like you?”

“No,” Derek whispered. Where had his breaths gone? “No, Stiles. What do they call people like me?”

Stiles beamed, bright and wide. He tilted his chin upward before leaning forward, breaths warm against Derek’s skin. “Adorable.”

Had it been any other day, any other moment, Derek would have fought tooth and nail against anyone ever calling him adorable. But then Stiles’s lips were brushing against his own and Derek all but fell into the touch, the feeling, any rational thought leaving his brain.

Adorable. Huh.

Maybe he could be that for Stiles.

-

If Derek thought about it, he couldn’t remember the exact time he changed. 

It might have been gradual. It might have been slow, like each step of a waltz moving closer and closer to what he never wanted to become. Losing everyone he loved, turning into something he didn’t recognize. It was the steps— one, two, three. One, two, three, and then he was all alone in the world.

He'd been alone for so long.

But then one day, Stiles Stilinski took his hand. Took his hand, kissed him softly, and showed him how to dance again.

- -

A/N: so, I’m very late to these prompts, but I finally have some motivation again! I hope this prompt came out (late) but alright @jbbarnes​ <3 

[fourfucksake]

let it snow

request: Can you do something with Chris sleeping with a friend? Maybe she comes and stays over and it snowed to hard for her to leave. They watch a movie and drink a little and it leads to rough sex on the couch?

pairing: chris evans x fem!black!reader

warnings: language, smut

word count: 2k

p.s i’m sorry for being inactive! i’m fine, just lazy

Visiting Chris right before Christmas was a tradition that we both shared for a long time. A few years ago, we met while filming a movie together, and our friendship blossomed very quickly. Being casted for that movie was my first role ever; back then, the show-biz, “the” Hollywood was truly one big puzzle that I had to solve on my own. The role I had wasn’t big nor significant, but it meant everything to me. The memories from those filming days were so close to my heart. Not to mention the friendship I built with Chris Evans that was also very dear to myself.

In that movie, I played the girl Chris slept with several times and at the end she finally got him to solve a mystery which led to a plot twist. Despite this description, the role wasn’t really that big, and I only had like three scenes where my character was somehow important. As imagined, all the sex talks we had as our characters were the start of me developing crush on him. Yes, I adored him as a fan for years but after that once scene where we almost kissed (and had to reshoot it way too many times) made me go crazy over him. It was downright embarrassing that literally no man that I have ever slept with made me as turned on as Chris did by almost kissing me.

“Chris!” I yelled while greeting him, giving his body a warm hug. His huge arms wrapped around me always gave me the snuggest feeling inside, I loved the smallest touch of his affection on myself. A loud laugh left my lips as he picked me up, completely erasing the distance between us. I gave him a small peck on a cheek before my feet were back again on the ground. “No Dodger?” I asked out of curiosity after not being able to spot one of my favourite creatures. “Nope, not today. He is with Scott, I left him there since I only came to this house for a couple of days before going back to my brother’s. Didn’t want to move him around like that, you know?” He explained as he rested his shoulder on the doorframe while I undressed from the heavy winter clothing. I hanged my big, fluffy coat and took my boots off before we entered his big living room.

Our “Christmas Dinner” was filled with laughs and banter. I almost forgot how amusing Chris really was, he always did everything to make the other person laugh out loud. Being with him was always great fun and however horrible that sounds I was ecstatic when the snowfall outside transformed into an apocalypse. Of course, I pretended that I really need to head back home, and nothing will stop me, but Chris refused to let me leave in this weather. After twenty minutes of going back and forth in argument, I gave up. He seemed pleased which was a relief because I would’ve hated feeling like I’m not wanted.

Chris made us both a cup of hot chocolate as we continued to talk. We made a promise regarding Christmas gift, swearing on each other’s lives that they will only be unwrapped on an actual Christmas Day. Still, I had a feeling he will open his as soon as I leave through that door. My eyes rolled as he deliberated about how his gift was surely better than mine, Tired of his annoying whimpers, I picked a TV remote and started looking through films on Disney+. “This will shut you up for like an hour or, at least I hope so,” I said with a silly face and showed him the middle finger as he laughed in response.

Focusing on the TV screen, I tried not to think about different, erotic scenarios of the both of us. His presence near me was enough to make my thoughts livid. His hand was placed on my knee, which I could not stop thinking about, no matter how hard I tried to. If Chris knew what my dirty thoughts were including him in, he would most likely show me where the door is. Or, possibly, throw me out of the window. I couldn't help but stress in his presence. It was simply not possible not to. When I thought I could control myself around him, he would start stroking my thigh, driving my consciousness crazy. He could sense that I was nervous, or at least I thought that he could, because he looked at me with his bug puppy eyes. He said nothing, just stared in the bluntest way possible. I returned the stare, unable to form words that would make any sense.

Gazing into my eyes, he positioned his hand on my cheek. Involuntarily, a familiar shiver ran through my entire body. Ugh, he was perfect, and I hated him for it. I just knew I was not the only girl to feel this way about him. You didn’t have to know him to lust over his self. I opened my lips as he began to approach me, getting closer to my face with every millisecond. Our lips finally joined in a passionate kiss. My hand quickly rested on top of his, caressing the skin on his fingers which were placed on my face. My hormones were screaming and in a spare of the moment, (and inflow of confidence) I moved onto his laps and sat on them straddling. I took over the situation with dominance, but Chris quickly took it back when he put his hands on my ass and lifted me up to lay myself on my back on the couch.

“I wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea,” He whispered right into my lips as his hand slipped under the fabric of my sweatshirt. A long, drawn-out moan escaped my mouth as his lips found their way to the skin on my neck. I was panting hard with my mouth open. One of my hands landed between the locks of his hair that I pulled on. I cursed softly under my breath as his fingers tightened on my hip and then moved to my breasts that were still covered by the fabric of my top and lace bra.

“So damn beautiful.”  His words sounded like a tune to my ears. Now, I could confirm that no compliments sounded better than those formed by Mr. Chris Evans himself. His fingers sneaked into my private part once again as they slipped under my leggings. I consciously and willingly let them do so. I was already excited, maybe even more than I wanted to admit. Rarely has a man managed to bring me to this state by not doing anything special, but Chris definitely did.

My mind was full of thoughts concerning what we were doing in this very moment. Has he already done this with some other naive aspiring actress? Am I just another name on his long list waiting to be crossed out? My morals and standards, and more importantly, my substantial self-respect were all screaming at me right about now. Unfortunately, my thirst and excitement won the arguments inside my head. “Chris, p-please,” I whispered and desperately pulled the hair at the top of his head. “F-Fuck me,” My lips finally formed a dreadful plea for more.

Chris didn't wait any longer, as if I gave him an order that he had to obey. He quickly deprived my body of all of its clothing, his hungry gaze followed my flesh this whole time. He was discovering every inch of my skin for the first time, concentrating on it as if he wanted to remember every single detail. I did not want to do any worse than him, therefore my hands also started a fight with his clothes, aggressively removing them from his body.

“Condom, I need-“ He mumbled inexplicably, the second part of his sentence was most certainly inaudible but at least I understood what he started looking for from its first part. I watched him out as his fingers grabbed the fabric of his pants. He reached out to the pocket, grabbing a silver wrapper between his two fingers, and I stared at it with a rather surprised look. He was prepared for this and I let him. He knew or at least he wanted this to happen. And I let him. Stupid girl.

My eyes followed him precisely as he returned to me. His knees settled on the couch and I opened my own wide for him to view. I licked my two fingers slowly before directing them to my pussy, slowly caressing and massaging it. Chris was watching me this whole time and his gaze was getting more and more hungry which undoubtedly stimulated all my senses.

Our eyes reconnected and we both smiled at each other at the same time. I licked my lips as I watched the rubber material slide smoothly over his swollen cock. He got closer to me and hit my entrance with his dick several times which was met with a loud moan escaping my lips. I was seconds away from begging him to push inside of me, but my needs were met with his sudden actions. Satisfied was an understatement as I felt his impressive length penetrating my inside.

From the first thrust, his hips moved quickly, with force. I felt him whole, from his core to his round tip. I felt his body pressing onto mine as his balls slapped my flesh with each movement. I tilted my head back and gasped like a wounded animal. My hand blindly travelled to his muscular torso, digging my long nails into his skin. He hissed in response, but his movements became faster, only adding extra pleasure to my private part. I felt my insides pulsing in response to his dick slamming onto me.  

Chris grabbed my leg under the calf and placed my heel on his shoulder. I took advantage of this placement and stretched my leg at the knee as I placed it as comfortably as possible on his shoulder. My hand rested on my boob, which I squeezed, and his eyes rested on the new image in front of him. We didn't exchange a single word, but we both gave each other the right glances that boldly approved of every move on our part.

Feeling ecstatic to say the least, I enjoyed every moment. I needed this. I needed to forget about the world, cool my abusive emotions and relish this quick experience. He gave me precisely what I craved. Moreover, I was confident he adored it just as much, which I saw from the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and from his plump lips producing multiple curse words as his body moved within me. His chest rose quickly and fell rapidly with each hard thrust. I rolled my eyes in pleasure, unable to help myself. I was so close to the orgasm that the man of my dreams was driving me to.

Feeling his warmth inside of me made me toes curl. This was so fucking good. I could confidently say that he too enjoyed himself, which the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and a bunch of swear words escaping his plump lips indicated. His chest rose and fell quickly with each hard thrust. Unable to help themselves, my eyes rolled in great pleasure. My breathing was rapid and unsteady as he drove me to a needed orgasm. I couldn’t feel his cum inside of me but his moans and pleads ensured me of his sweet release.

We looked at each other’s eyes when our breathing finally normalized from all that we have done right on that poor couch. Thankfully, I sensed no strange atmosphere in the air that could foreshadow the end of our friendship. Everything seemed so normal, so platonic and I felt an unimaginable sense of relief. “Round two?” He scanned my face with a smirk placed on his lips and flames in his eyes. I smiled in response because no words were needed to answer his question. My legs wrapped around his hips once again, his posture bent down in order to link our lips in a kiss, indicating a fresh start to our next game.