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messers-moony · 3 years ago

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So Perfect 2 | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through.

Preparing for a date seemed easy enough, except when it’s with a twenty-five-year-old man that already has a child. Granted, the twenty-five-year-old man was handsome, very handsome; maybe that’s what made this so hard. Every dress that she tried on didn’t seem to fit or didn’t seem to look right.

Y/n was looking at her appearance in the mirror when a light knock was heard on her door, “Come in!”

Remus almost dropped the tea he was holding for her, “You look spiffing.”

“Spiffing?” Y/n crossed her arms with a stupid smile, “That’s all you could come up with?”

“Dashing, beautiful, gorgeous?” Remus shrugged, “I'm not good at this whole thing. ‘S why I’m into blokes, remember?”

Y/n hummed, reaching for the tea he was holding for her, “Thanks, Remmy.”

“No problem.” He replied, taking a seat on her twin bed, “So, are you excited?”

“Nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s already got a child, Rem!” Y/n said exasperated, “If this goes well, then he’ll expect me to be Harry’s stepmother, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

Remus placed two hands on his shorter sister's shoulders, “You’re going to be fine. No one is more prepared for that than you are.”

“I’m regretting this.”

“If you don’t go on this date, then I’ll never call Sirius.”

“That’s not fair!”

“It is.” Remus replied, “How about this-”

“Oh no, you only do this when you know you’ll win.” She murmured.

Remus smirked, “If you go on this date and have fun, I’ll ask Sirius out. If you don’t go on this date at all, I’ll block his number.”

“But you and Sirius are perfect for each other.” Y/n whined, “And so are you and James.” Remus countered.

Y/n pouted, and Remus smiled, “Now go have fun on this date. James is waiting outside.”

“Are you shitting me?!”

Remus laughed, “Nope!”

Y/n scrambled to grab her things, and Remus watched amusedly, “You’re the worst, Rem!” She yelled as she began to leave the bookstore.

“Love you too, sis!”

The door closed behind her, and she was releasing breaths of air. James turned to see her out of breath and a flush on her cheeks. It made him smile. She looked absolutely breathtaking too. Y/n’s hair was styled, and her dress looked dashing on her. James offered her his hand, and Y/n took it with a gentle smile.

“Sorry for making you wait.” Y/n apologized, “Rem was no help.”

James chuckled, “It’s fine.”

James opened the car door for her, and she got in. Instantly she felt out of place. Y/n hadn’t been in a car since high school and ever since then had taken public transportation or walked. She and Remus didn’t have money for a vehicle, so they made do with what they had. The seats were black leather, and the car didn’t have a spec of dirt on it.

He got into the driver's side of the car smoothly and took notice of Y/n’s awestruck expression, “I take it you like my car?”

“I’m sorry.” Her expression turned sheepish, “It’s been a minute since I’ve been in a car.”

James quirked an eyebrow, “Remus and I walk or ride buses to get by.”

“Well, I’m glad I could be with you for your first experience back.” They both laughed.

It was so easy with James. Conversation flowed like water, and the air was light like clouds. His hand went from the shift to intertwine his fingers with hers. Y/n’s face flushed, and James smiled genuinely. James couldn’t remember a time when a girl made his heart race and butterflies fill his stomach like this before.

When they arrived, Y/n was starstruck. It was fancier than she thought. Her heart pounded, and insecurity filled her body. James made his way to her side of the car and opening the door for her again. He helped her out of the car and felt her hand tremble just the slightest bit.

“You look beautiful.” James assured, “No need to be worried.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, “Hey,” James turned her face to his, “If I thought you were underdressed, I would’ve told you. You’re gorgeous, and I think you’ll be the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her another one of those beautiful smiles before walking up to the hostess, “Name?”

“Should be under Potter.”

The hostess smiled, “Right this way.”

James motioned for Y/n to go first, so she followed the hostess to the table. Y/n sat down, and James sat across from her as the woman set down two menus. Maybe it was a force of habit, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes travel to everything around her.

He smiled, slightly amused by her way of checking everything around her. It wasn’t the fanciest place that he could’ve taken her - there was much better - but he didn’t want to overwhelm her. It wasn’t pitying that drew him toward her, though. There was something about her that made him feel like a teenager again.

The place was made of what appeared to be a dark wooden material. The lights were a dim yellow, and the tables were polished beautifully. The booths were comfy and with red cushioning. The atmosphere was cooling and dry.

Y/n had opened her menu and began to survey it, “Pick whatever you want.”

“Are you sure?” Y/n asked, “I really don’t mind-“

“This is a date.” James reminded as he held her hands from across the table, “Let me treat you so well that you a second date.”

Y/n blushed, “You’ve already done that.”

“I have?”

“Shut up.”

James chuckled, kissing her knuckles, “Whatever you want, love.”

Half of the food on the menu Y/n hadn’t even heard of. Granted, she and Remus never really ate out much as kids. Usually, their mother - Hope - would cook them dinner as their father - Lyall - got home from work. Dinner was generally around seven-thirty or eight o’clock.

The dinner went by gracefully, with lots of banter and getting to know each other. It wasn’t until the end of the date where James had paid despite Y/n’s efforts, and they got into the car where he had asked the dreadful question. They both sat in the parking spot when James had turned to her.

“How do you feel about children?” James asked and quickly added, “I know that you’re good with them because of the reading on Saturdays but, I mean, about having children?”

Y/n wrung her hands, “I never really thought about it.”

“Why?”

“I have two jobs and a sick brother to take care of.”

Y/n replied, “Kids don’t really fit in. I’d also have to have a significant other to have children. Which I don’t have.”

James nodded, “Okay, but if you were to have a significant other.”

“I mean, I’d like to.” Y/n shrugged, “My life is just hectic right now. Bringing a child into this life wouldn’t be fair.”

Okay, so this isn’t going anywhere, James thought; I need to be blunt, “How would you feel about being Harry’s stepmother?”

She swallowed, “James….”

“I know that’s a hard thing to answer right now. Especially with us just getting started.” James added, “But if you aren’t interested, then this isn’t worth starting.”

“No, I know and understand.” Y/n said, fidgeting with her hands in her lap, “I’m sure it’s hard to find someone, you know, already having a kid and all.”

James nodded.

“I’d love to be Harry’s stepmother.” Y/n replied as James’ face lit up, “But I still have the bookstore, the bar, and Remus to take care of as well. It’ll be stressful.”

“I’m not asking you to be a stay-at-home mother.” James chuckled, “I’m just asking that at the end of the day, you come home to us.”

“And hopefully,” James smiled sheepishly, “Sirius can knock Remus off your list.”

Y/n chuckled, “Hopefully. Remus is a handful.”

“He seems nice.”

She snorted, “Until you officially meet him.”

“Well then,” James smiled, taking her hand in his as he began moving the car, “Looks like we’ll be having double dates.”

Y/n squeezed his hand as he began to drive. The car drove effortlessly over the unpaved roads. Light music played in the background. The sky was a beautiful blue littered with sparkling white specks. The moon was crescent and barely a sliver. James had gotten to a stoplight when he spoke up again.

“My house or yours?”

“Whichever.”

James smiled and turned the wheel to the left, “Okay.”

It didn’t take long to realize that they were going to his house. His neighborhood was much different than hers. Granted, she lived on top of a bookshop, but it was still different. James lived in the suburbs. The houses were breathtaking, and the streets looked clean. Asphalt roads were freshly paved, and sidewalks looked new. The homes were family-sized, but they looked ginormous compared to her and Remus’ studio apartment only suited for one.

James pulled into the driveway, and Y/n was flabbergasted. It was a two-story house, mostly white concrete, and the accents were a dark brown color. The grass was freshly cut, and the vegetation was trimmed. The backyard appeared to have a pool and a patio area, but Y/n could barely tell over the solid fence.

His keys jingled as he placed the key into the slot and the door opened with ease. Gently, he motioned her to go first. The floors were dark oak wood, seemingly similar to the dark paint on the accents of the house. Everything was so clean, exactly like the car, not a spec of dust laid on the surfaces.

A movie was playing on the television in the room on the right. The kitchen was on the left, and the sitting table was in the room beside it. James shut the door behind him, locking it. He took off his coat and shoes, placing them at the front door. He smiled.

“I take it you like the house?”

“It’s beautiful.”

James smiled, walking to the kitchen, and Y/n took off her shoes before following him. He sighed when he opened the fridge, and Y/n had taken a seat at the barstool in front of the island. James picked up an empty bottle of wine that was still residing in the fridge.

“You keep empty bottles of wine in the fridge?” Y/n questioned as James rubbed his face with his hands.

“No. Bad habit of Sirius’.”

Y/n quirked an eyebrow, “He lives here?”

“He acts as he does.” James muttered as he recycled the empty bottle, “But no, Sirius lives a couple of doors down. But I feel like he should be paying rent here.”

Y/n laughed, “Regardless, I’ve known him since elementary school, so he’s like my brother. Harry calls him uncle and everything.”

“That’s adorable.” Y/n said, “Do you have any actual siblings?”

“Nope. Jus’ me.” He answered, motioning to himself, “Sirius has a younger brother named Regulus.”

“His parents obsessed with constellations or something?”

“Supposedly.”

“Where is Harry now?”

“With Sirius.” James replied, taking out a full bottle of wine, “Told him I might get him tonight or might not.”

Y/n took the glass of wine he offered her with a smile, “Mind if I ask why the tv was left on?”

“My cat.”

“Cat?”

“Technically, not mine.” James explained, “It’s my ex-fiancées, but she left him here, so he’s mine now.”

“And your cat likes the tv?”

James nodded, “What's his name?”

“Moony.”

“Moony?”

“Yeah. Harry named him actually.”

Y/n smiled. They continued to talk, and the night kept going on by. It was well past midnight when James drove her back home to her shared apartment. The car ride was silent, primarily with music playing lightly in the background once again. He walked her to the door of the bookstore before bidding her goodnight.

Gently James pressed his lips to her forehead, “Goodnight, get some sleep.”

“You too…” Y/n muttered, blushing as she walked into the bookstore.

She hadn’t even made it up the steps when Remus began talking, “Had a good night, I presume?”

“You’re a dick, ya know?”

He smirked and closed his book with a thud, “Runs in the family.”

Y/n gasped playfully, “You ass!”

Remus chuckled as they both walked up the steps, “Seriously though, good night?”

“Yeah, really good night.”

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charkyzombicorn · 3 years ago

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More One Piece HCs because I dropped my brain cells when I was busy crying over Noland and Calgara

-Sanji is bothered by Garp's introduction in Water 7, especially the 'Luffy you act like I abused you' before describing a third of the ways he was abused by him. That shit makes Sanji's skin itch.

-Luffy is actually far from an ugly person, it's just something people don't pick up right away because of his presence and personality take up a lot of space. This makes people that know him by his wanted poster slightly off-balance at first

-Nami was very dubious and hostile of Zoro when she first learned that it was just creepy intense guy traveling with a boy who Nami firmly dubbed a child in their first interaction.

-Luffy doesn't particularly like pickpocketing because it avoids confrontation, but he can do it well when he needs to

-Usopp always tells stories to the people recovering in the medbay (Even Zoro and Nami, they appreciate the effort)

-Zoro actually isn't the prettiest peach. His forehead's too big and his jaw and teeth are slightly misaligned because they were broken more than once in his training days(seriously lifting boulders with your jaw is a bad idea kids), pre timeskip people said his laugh was too loud and post TS people were off-put by his early frown lines. He doesn't give two shits though, being nice to look at isn't a requirement of being the greatest swordsman and his personality put people off long before his looks did. (Maybe he gets a little hurt sometimes, when people don't call him ugly but walk up to Luffy not knowing who he is and asking what a pretty little thing like him is doing with the green-haired troll. He doesn't acknowledge argue, neither does Luffy, they just leave when the nobody's are done, they're not worth it.)

-Nami and Robin have learned the hard way to never compliment Sanji back. Doesn't matter if he spent the last half hour reading them poetry about his undying love, Do Not, not even with a 'those were very kind words', Don't. First he freezes for about 9 seconds just long enough that he's actually stopped breathing and not just paused, then his entire body goes rigid and beat red, then he somehow catches fire, then he falls to his knees and sobs at their feet with the amount of thank yous that are only reasonable when that person has saved/freed their entire island (and the Strawhats know that number well), then he passes out into a 'Love coma' until the next meal he needs to cook.

-Robin is the most comfortable in her sexuality, her being 30 and having much different things about herself she's not okay with. This means she subtly flirts with Nami because were Robin a younger woman, Nami would have been her type.

-Nami gets a lil giddy because getting a flirt from hot guys and getting a flirt from hot women hits vastly different (neither are actually interested in a relationship, it's just nice)

#one piece #Half of these are kinda long sorry #Zolu #I mean it can be taken platonic if you squint but I mean #Also controversial opinion not everyone on Sunny should be hot #And not just the not-quite-human ones

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ganymedesclock · 4 years ago

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So I discovered the trailer for Belle (2021), and it’s making me think about what I love about Beauty and the Beast riffs, and what makes a story scratch that particular itch for me or not.

And I think a huge part of it for me is the examination of monstrosity as a social role. To just use Disney’s animated classic as my base for comparison here, Adam, The Beast, is not literally cursed with fur and fangs, claws and horns- he has those things, and may have mixed feelings about them, others certainly have bad reactions to them-

-his curse is ostracization. His curse is to not be seen as human. What actual, physical features he has are irrelevant to that. They’re just quirks he can learn to live with, or a further excuse to tell himself he deserves this isolation, this frustration, this misery.

So the breaking of the curse, to me, is not the scene where Belle sobs confirmation of what we knew well before then into his stilling chest and brings him back, minus those quirks- if anything, that his happiness comes with the loss of those things has seemed to me (and I’m not alone) as almost something of a betrayal depending on how it’s framed.

By contrast, to me, the breaking of the curse is the ballroom scene, and the moments leading up to it. Adam returns to Adam, rather than The Beast, at the point that he decides that he deserves to be treated like a human being- not as a labor of love from Belle, but from himself. Yes, it’s love with Belle that they dance together, that they have this ball scene when there’s no high society to impress, but before that point, he had to make a decision; that he can clean up and dress nice and have an evening. That he deserves to.

When we first see The Beast, he has all of the means and resources to act like a prince, to present like one. He could make himself comfortable and be surrounded by splendor, but the truest thing he suffers under is he’s ceased to see himself as worth the effort. It’s not as if he could cut the fur down and prune back his claws, file down the horns, and look the way he feels he ought to- the way he thinks he should. He’s broken every mirror in his house except for the one he hides from, and this is a gesture of absolute defeat. He knows what he looks like. He can’t pretend he doesn’t. The only way he can tolerate this is not looking at himself.

As a neurodivergent queer person, the monster in the mirror is something I have a very complicated relationship with. I have an “advantage” in some ways. My appearance is not shocking to most people. I do not benefit from an obvious mobility aid or assistive device; I speak within a range people think of is normal. I have an “unusual haircut” for a “girl” and I don’t aggressively correct people on my pronouns or presentation.

But I’ve always had this feeling, that perhaps, my fangs and fur were simply easy things to trim off, and it’s so easy to wonder, would I still be okay if they weren’t? Because really, it’s none of the granular details that make a monster. For every imagined horror creature, there’s almost certainly a real animal it resembles, and real animals are not monsters. A monster is a monster; anything else, we believe, has a place, has a home. Deserves to exist.

To be a monster is to be a thing that doesn’t fit, or, more directly, to be a monster is to be a thing that is unaccepted. Rejected for not fitting. Unworthy of love, from within, or without.

At the end of the day, I know, factually, I am not a monster. I know that I’m a real person. I know that I deserve dignity and respect and love, even if only from myself. I’m not owed another person to love me just to prove that I can be, but, also, no man is an island; as humans we seek each other one way or another, romantically or platonically. That’s a fact of anyone, not just people who struggle to see a real person when they look at their reflection.

And yet, at this same time, I can’t help but feel betrayed, left behind, when the narrative goes that if the monster does everything right its reward is to be shaped into the likeness of a Real Human Being. Because you can’t just pull a feathered skin off me and make me like I “should be”, like my various diagnoses and self-identifications all present me as an aberration from. If you showed me a me without any of those qualities, that’s honestly the thing I’m the most afraid of, a me without me. A Miss Perfect who’s a good, normative daughter, and in my insecurity I wonder if people would like her so much better than me that they wouldn’t miss if I was gone.

Which, that’s nonsense. I know a lot of people who care about me the way I am. But nobody ever said fears had to be rational.

At the end of the day, as much as I hate the idea of being a monster to others, I also relish the notion of qualities that are categorized as monsters. I love dragons. I love putting big, horrible teeth and leering eyes and wings and claws on heroic characters. Because brought into the light, qualities are just qualities. And if you bring those qualities into the favoring, soft light of stories about human connection, romances, queerplatonic bonds, friendships and found family alike, those qualities can even be charming, alluring, inspiring; a character can look like anything and we still feel a rush of reassurance that this specific character is there.

And that’s the other side of Beauty and the Beast: Adam is running away from being a monster, and Belle is trying to run away from who she is, too. Because Belle is the other side of that trap.

Let’s be honest; it isn’t just that Belle’s an outspoken woman with opinions. It’s that she’s pretty. She’s the prettiest girl in town. She’s someone people want, people have expectations for- and those expectations have little room for what she actually wants. Hell, that’s one of the major dangerous driving forces of the climax- Adam nearly gets murdered by a mob because Belle made a choice that her community really didn’t like, especially Gaston, and it’s easy to point to Adam as the wrong choice because he’s pointy.

“Beauty”, as much as “The Beast”, are dehumanizing categories that people are sorted into. The doll and the monster. One is considered beneath monstrosity; beguiling, an object of appeal and desire but not someone with opinions, oh no, and not someone able to make a choice that you disagree with. People driven to the fringes by opposing forces but regardless find each other in the place they’re trying to find room to breathe in.

And that, I think, is one way some of these riffs can, for me personally, miss the point- and that’s not a mark against them, it’s just that there’s a specific thing I see in this story, and it’s very specifically not, “to be beautiful and desirable to mass public consumption is the way to be happy; we will have a story about how to rehabilitate someone so they can be beautiful too” but rather, “what does it mean when people stop seeing you as yourself, whether the alternative is perfection or a monster? what would you do to be seen clearly?”

#writing ruminations #beauty and the beast #readmore

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spidernerdsblog · 4 years ago

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Match made in Hell : Prologue

A/N : Well this series will be hella angsty. Hope you like this. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mentions of blood, murder, death, misogyny, implied sexual theme.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s the middle of the night as you sneak out from the backside of the dingy motel you and Ethan chose to hide for two days before catching a bus to Virginia. You were headed to the NY port bus terminus as you cautiously walked through the dimly lit alleyway. Both of you carrying a duffel bag in your hand as you briskly walk down to the main street.

"Ethan come on'' you whisper yell looking back to your boyfriend who was walking right behind you with whom you have planned to elope and start a new life away from your father's clutches who happens to be the mafia king of Northeast United States and wants to forcefully marry you off to another mobster of Europe to expand his territory and grab hold on their turf.

"Y/N are you sure your dad will not find us trying to flee right under his nose?" Ethan asks nervously. You smile softly as you put down your bag. Your hands reach up to his face cupping it gently.

"Don't you worry honey. I have a friend over there who has made all the necessary arrangements. In a few hours we will be in our paradise far from all of this. Just you and me, baby."

"But what if your dad already knows about us and sent his men to kill me."

"By the time daddy will come to know about us running away he will have nothing to do. He has no power in the southern states so we will be safe." You press your forehead on to his before stepping away from him and are about to turn around to resume walking but then the inevitable happens.

BANG! a gunshot was fired from a near distance.

You flinched at the deafening sound and felt something graze past you as some viscous liquid splattered on your face. You run your hand through your face to find blood stains and look at Ethan with horror in your eyes, a bullet has punched it's way right through his chest causing a hole in its wake as blood oozed out, his white shirt slowly turning scarlet red.

"Ethan!! oh my god!!" you gasped and rushed to him. Ethan felt dizzy, his vision going blurry as his body began to collapse. You quickly hold on to his weight slowly crouching down to kneel on the pavement placing his head on your lap.

"No! No! No, This can't happen!" You didn’t know what to do as you franctically pressed your hands together on the wound on his chest trying to stop the bleeding, tears running down your cheeks.

"Mija" your throat went dry at the deep voice. You turned your head to find your father standing all tall and powerful, face expressionless with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and right by his side is your step brother Julian. In no time his hunch men surrounded the area.

"Daddy he's dying do something please." you sobbed.

"You shouldn't have tried to run away Mija or else poor Ethan would have been alive to see tomorrow's daylight."

"C'mon now get up." He reached out his hand to you.

"What? No! Daddy please help him. He'll die. I'll do whatever you say, marry whoever you want but please save him." You begged him as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"It's too late for that Mija. You should have known well that after your engagement you are just a safe-keeping of the Holland's for us. Son-in-law is really upset with your behavior. He is the one who helped us track you down."

"Jules at least you try to understand." You turned to your step brother in despair.

"Enough sister we have to go, we don't want the whole NYPD chasing us for a petty collateral damage." he says sternly.

"You already are a big disgrace to the family. Thankfully my step brother-in-law is very generous to accept you even after all this."

"No I'm not going with you anywhere, either you shoot me like him or else I'll do it myself." You scrambled up back on your feet and with a swift move snatched the gun from the holster of one of his men standing near you. You pointed the gun to your head holding onto the trigger.

"Y/N Martinez enough is enough! Drop the gun now!" your father commands agitated.

"No!" you shakily press the trigger a little more as tears pricked your eyes.

"You'll not do that Y/N." your father warns again.

"Oh hell I'll do if I don't get to live with the love of my life then you will not get what you want." you spat trembling in rage.

"Y/N no.. No" Ethan croaked in pain, the angry demeanor you had softened at his voice.

"Ethan, honey.. " you dropped to your feet kneeling beside his weak body.

"if you die then I die too." You sniffled. Ethan threaded his fingers to yours.

"No, Y/N you - you have to live. For me. Promise me."

"No" you whimper.

"Promise me Y/N, this-this is my last wish" He took large gulps of air while he spoke. You screwed your eyes shut feeling helpless at the given moment.

"I-I promise Ethan." Your voice quivered.

"I love you Y/N.." he smiled weakly as his voice trailed off as it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

"I love you too baby." You sniffled. Ethan's eyes were droopy as he struggled to stay awake. He was barely breathing.

"No, no Ethan, stay with me please." you clutched onto his hand desperately. He swallowed his last breath of air before succumbing to eternal sleep in your arms.

"Ethan?" you shake his lifeless body. "Ethan wake up!!" all was in vain as Ethan's limp body lay on the pavement.

"Ethaaan!!!" you wail.

"Take care of the body. I need to handle my ever rebellious daughter." your father ordered.

"Okay boss." one of his capos obliged.

"Now c'mon and let's get you prepared for your husband." your father grabbed on to your arm.

"No,no,no" you try to grasp onto Ethan's lifeless body. Your father ripped you apart from his body forcing you to stand up on your feet.

"It's your last week with us anyway, spend some time with your mother, make some happy memories, she will miss her only daughter the most."

"Happy memories?! You took every ounce of happiness from my life, you are a monster! You all are! I hate you!" you screamed struggling hard to free yourself from your father's firm grip.

"One day you'll know everything your daddy did was for your own good. So stop fighting and do as you are told like a good girl" Your father and brother Julian dragged you to the car. You were a walking dead when you reached your home which seemed a prison to you now. Your mother came rushing to you.

"Oh sweetie you're safe. Thank god I was so worried." she wrapped her arms around you in a hug.

"Mom.. Ethan.. He's gone." You broke down in her arms.

"It's ok sweetie. Don't worry everything will be fine. You are my strong girl I know you will get through this" she cradled your face pecking your forehead trying to console you.

"Ask your daughter to stop acting like a brat and learn how to be a good wife to her future husband and tend to his needs. Don't want the Holland's point fingers at us saying we didn't raise our daughter right."

"Why did you do this Victor?"

"After so many years are you questioning your husband Rosette?"

"No, I'm questioning a father and how could he do this to his only daughter?"

"She brought it upon herself." your mother was about to say something but was cut off by your father.

"No! I don't want to hear anything more about this. Just do what I said." he says sternly.

******

"The Martínez's will arrive in a week, start making all the necessary arrangements."

"Once the deal is done you will be taking over our family business son are you ready to sit on this throne?" The senior Holland asks his eldest son Tom in the presence of his younger twin sons Harry and Sam and Tom’s future consigliere and best friend Harrison as he stood in the middle of the spacious conference room patting on the big leather chair placed right in the middle of the wooden round table from where he has been running this empire all these years commanding men to do all his dirty work and sealing fate of people who didn’t comply by his wishes.

"Always ready dad." Tom stood tall.

"I know you are, my son. This is the day I have been waiting for all my life."

"Okay now enjoy your last few days of freedom of a bachelor before you are a married man." he pats his shoulder proudly and was about to leave the room but turned to him again.

"One more thing you need to keep a tighter hold on your woman from now on Tom. Her carefree days are over, she needs to be made aware of her responsibilities including giving the family an heir."

"Yes dad."

As his father leaves with the twins Tom slumps down on one of the chairs with Harrison beside him. He lets out a long sigh taking out his phone.

The first thing he does is open your Instagram page and go through your pictures which has turned out to be a habit for him for the last three years. Harrison was sitting beside him as he saw your pictures too. Some were with your college friends, some you attending one of your dad's galas in the prettiest designer dresses and some bikini clad sunkissed aesthetic pictures of you on vacation on some exotic island. Tom thought you looked unearthly in every picture but his mood would go sour seeing the comments below of several guys objectifying your body. He felt like hunting them down and chopping off their fingers with which they typed such lewd comments.

Though he himself wasn’t a man of high morals either drinking, gambling, bringing in girls every night in spite of being engaged to you though each night he wished it was you on his bed, not some random hooker he picked up from the bar. He is well aware that you don’t like him and despise this whole marriage. But he has nothing to worry anymore now because in a few days you are going to be his for lifetime. And he is confident that he will win you over eventually.

"I see why you are hell bent to marry her, she's a siren." Harrison remarked snarkly, breaking Tom from his thoughts.

"Hopefully she sounds like one too" Tom chuckles.

"But you really want to spend the rest of your life with her? She doesn't seem to be the one to follow rules."

"She's always been a wild horse since childhood that is why I like her even more and trust me wild horses are more fun to tame Haz. I can assure you in no time she'll be roaming around like a puppy around me."

"And how do you know you'll be able to tame a headstrong girl like her?"

"That will not be an issue because once I make sure that my child is inside her she will have nothing to do." He smirks. "Motherly instincts, you know how that works. After all, she's a woman. How much ever she hates me she will never separate her child from his father."

"And once I will have her father removed from the picture and taken over their empire she will have nowhere to go."

"You know she'll hate you more than she already does after you kill her father."

"Her father is no less than a monster. I will be doing her a favor actually." Tom once again glances at a portrait picture of you.

"Princess your kingdom eagerly awaits your arrival." he mutters to himself with a smug grin on his face.

.................................................................................

Taglist in bio or just send an ask or dm I’ll add you

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland and reader #tom holland angst #tom holland and y/n

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themyscir · 2 years ago

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HEADCANON I. bonds: companions & mounts.

one of my favorite things about diana is her hilarious choice in pets. they try to retcon them, but i know. i saw them and i know. and before you say it: i know some of this shit is in prime earth or whatever the fuck they call these universes but i don’t care i love them too much to NOT include them. let’s talk about what pets my diana canonically has.

edit: PLEAAASE LOOK MY GF DREW JUMPA AND TITAN !!

JUMPA: sky kanga.

after diana earned her bracelets after pledging to aphrodite at the age of 15, she began focusing more heavily on the art of battle. a considerable part of her training was in taming an animal to fight alongside her.

there are a number of mounts that were available for the amazons to tame; horses, pegasi, and kangas. horses are reliable and classic, pegasi are picky and only ever chose one rider for life, and kanga’s are aggressive but worth the training if you can tame one. diana naturally gravitated to the kanga’s who matched her own energy and she wanted the strongest and fastest one she could get her hands on. the stables had a number of kangas ready for the right woman to come along, but there was one that caught her eye: the incredibly difficult, violent, and snooty marsupial named jumpa.

it was hate at first sight. think classic horse girl story, but both the horse and the girl are absolutely feral. this kanga kicked the shit out of her, chased her, threw her against trees. diana tried her hardest to get this girl to love her the gentler way as her mother advised, but one day she had enough. when jumpa had the audacity to bite her arm, she bit her right back. if you can’t beat them, join them. the other amazons would sometimes look into the fields and see her WRESTLING this damn thing.

it took years, but eventually she had this monster mostly tamed and it was well worth the effort. though jumpa still has an attitude problem that reflects her own, she is the most powerful, most fearless, and the fastest of the bunch. and she usually doesn’t throw her rider off.

fun facts.

jumpa has a spot on her butt that looks like a star. don’t touch it.

literally nobody else can ride her. she barely lets diana ride her.

literally the worst kangaroo you’ve ever met. diana loves her.

KACHI: royal mare.

when diana wasn’t busy taming her piece of shit kanga, she spent much of her time with kachi. kachi is… pretty much just a normal white mythical horse. so she’s bigger, stronger, more durable, and more immortal than a normal horse. but besides that? pretty standard.

diana tends to ride her around themyscira as opposed to jumpa since she’s easier to control and more predictable. she’s considered one of the royal horses alongside hippolyta’s steeds, and she’s treated as such. she has more of an attitude than the other horses: she’s huffy, spoiled, and likes to stomp the bugs and pests that are unlucky enough to cross her path. but overall? she’s pretty good when you get a few snacks in her.

fun facts.

considered one of the prettiest horses on the island because of her bright, shiny coat and how she’s constantly adorned with intricate accessories. golden horseshoes, the works.

will try to eat your clothes and hair if you stop paying attention to her.

TITAN: walla.

i do not have a drawn picture of a wallaby so consider this my live action face claim of titan. anyway.

the last pet is a little walla named titan. now you might be thinking: what the fuck is a walla? well, kat and i were talking about this and she was like I don’t understand why they gave wonder woman a fucking pig when they could’ve given her a wallaby. It’s just a tiny kangaroo. and i said that she gets a little magic wallaby named titan. a walla, if you will, in the same line of thought of kangaroo, kanga.

walla’s are not war animals, they’re not useful for anything besides companionship and that’s exactly what diana has her for. if you go to diana’s penthouse and you’re wondering what that weird long shopping bag is for? look inside. titan’s in there… just chilling. you might see this lil girl jumping around in the living room and go “what the fuck is that?” and diana will answer, genuinely, monotone, “Her name is Titan.”

just look at them go.

titan has the best temperament out of all of her pets. she’s a cute little cuddle bug with grabby hands. she wants to jump up in your hoodie, your purse, your backpack, whatever you have that's pouch shaped. diana will be cooking eggs on the stove with essentially a baby sling strapped to her chest because her wallaby wants to be held. that’s her little baby.

fun facts.

this is the only one of her pets that she has with her in the world of man.

she sends close up pictures of titan to the justice league group chat and theyre always confused. most of her gallery is pics of that lil walla.

she’s got a little sparkle spot on her face. why? because comic books and its cute.

#☆ • ’ . — HEADCANONS.#long post

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aquilex139 · 3 years ago

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“A Smile Better Than Any Night”

Notes: This entry doesn't have much of the prompts of this day, just a tiny little piece but still I wanted to upload it because I love the result. Happy third day of Jeanpiku week!!! Hope you like it.

She wasn’t a fan of parties.

But she could not say that since she had never attended one.

The only time she could think of coming close to being in one was when the Liberio festival was celebrated back in Marley.

God, mentioning those times was like remembering a past life.

She still remembers Falco and Gabi's expressions when they first saw how much food there was.

It was a different day, calm, enjoyable.

The calm before the storm.

Not so much for Reiner’s wallet though.

And here she was, sitting alone at a table watching the rest of the guests dance or talk with others.

Connie had asked the warrior earlier if he could borrow Falco and Gabi so his night wouldn't be so boring.

At first, she frowned at the question, Falco was eighteenth after all, and it wouldn’t be long before Gabi is too.

They could decide for themselves.

But then she realized by the look on his face that he was ashamed by what happened the night of Falco’s birthday.

She is seen as the person who takes care of them, which she is, so she understood.

She happily accepted.

First, because Falco and Gabi also looked just as bored.

And second, because she didn't want Connie to feel bad about that night.

She knows he cares about them and it feels good that they have one friend to have fun with while they stay in the island.

The three of them asked her if she wanted to go with them but she kindly refused.

She said that she already felt the years taking their toll on her, which made them giggle.

She saw how they went on smiling and laughing while leaving the room.

And of course, she also noticed Connie mischievous smile.

Yes, Jean and him would make sure not to make this event boring for them.

Again…

This is the third time she mentions Jean’s name inside her head.

She wouldn't be thinking about him if he hadn't given her that compliment earlier.

Well, if he hadn’t told Falco about giving her that compliment.

She knew it was just that, words, he meant good and only told her she was pretty.

The prettiest in the room……

Again, just a compliment….

It irritated her so much why she was making such a fuss about it.

Worst of all is that they have not even exchanged words.

Just looks.

She wondered why he was caring so much, why he was so interested.

Maybe he wanted to be close to her too because he is Falco and Gabi’s friend.

Or was it something else?

Why was it so confusing?

While hearing the glasses of champaign being served and mumbles all over the room, she remembered the moment he gave her a tissue.

Back then, when she was a crying mess, when she was outside her most vulnerable state.

He didn’t even know her and gave her some comfort, he knew she was the enemy, that she killed many people that were on his side, some even friends.

But she also did the same with him….

She didn’t know him, she knew he was the enemy and yet, she wanted to give him the same comfort, even though she killed his comrades too, some…even friends.

Was this the reason she couldn’t stop thinking about that night?

About those nights?

Because he was an enigma?

Because it made her curious why he was acting the way he was acting?

So many questions wondered her mind and were easily vanished the moment she heard someone sit next to her.

“Mind if I join you miss?” Pieck heard while turning her head to the voice.

The warrior smile when she saw a familiar face giving her a smirk, the woman was wearing a short white dress with her hair down as always.

“Woah, by that look I must say I’m flattered but I’m actually straight” Hitch responded with a grin on her lips while taking a seat.

“I’m surprised you’re not annoying Annie with your charm” Pieck said in a sarcastic tone.

“Please, I’ve received enough death stares from her anyways” Hitch laughed while serving herself some champagne.

Pieck had to say that not being alone it was comforting, it was nice seeing the blonde girl again after some time.

She knew Hitch thanks to Annie, the reason?

Because she was one of the few persons that the blonde tolerated.

“How you’ve been?” Pieck asked the lady, while taking a sip from her drink.

“You know, being over here, being over there, work is always calling, considering how fucked up this island is” the blonde answered with a sigh.

“I really don’t want to talk about work, just give me this night to rest” she added.

“What I should be asking is what the hell is going on with you? I come here and the first thing I see is a beauty sitting alone, having an existential crisis with herself” the blonde raised her eyebrows.

Shit…

Was she being that obvious?

How much time has she been rambling inside her thoughts?

“Nothing, I was just wondering where Falco and Gabi are” she lied, trying to be hard to read, which she was good at.

With most people.

“Ohh!!! The two brats are here?? They must be tall, it’s been forever since I last saw them” Hitch answered enthusiastically, but not falling for it.

Pieck took her glass and drank some more while nodding to the blonde.

“But that can wait. Tell me, who will you sleep with tonight?” Hitch asked.

That made Pieck instantly choke with her drink, fortunately she didn’t spit any.

“W-what?” Pieck widened her eyes while looking to the blonde.

“Don’t give me that -I’ve never seen a dick- face. You were drooling just before I talked to you” the blonde said with a mocking tone.

“Just to be clear, there’s no one here I would like to sleep with, and second of all-” the warrior couldn’t continue at hearing the blonde laugh at her.

“Darling, you may fool anyone with that tone and face, but that won’t work with me” Hitch said between laughs.

Pieck was getting angry.

Not at her.

She was getting infuriated knowing the moment she heard “sleep” she thought about him.

Why?

Just why?

Not understanding how she was feeling was getting tiring.

“Look” the blonde respond calming herself. “This party, event or whatever is getting nowhere, you should be trying to find a partner, at least someone who’ll give you a good-“

“Hitch” the warrior looked at her with a serious face.

“I’m just saying, we’ll be here one night, no one would say or remember anything, you should at least try and see what happens”

The warrior glared at her. “Uhuh, and tell me, what happens with Gabi and Falco in the meantime”

“They’re practically adults now! Look, if it makes you feel any better, I can take them to my room just for the night, I know there’s a lot of people here. And you can have a little…alone time” Hitch really was trying to sound tempting.

She hated to admit that she had a point.

This was supposed to be one night in a ship, assist to the dinner and return the next morning.

The ship would follow a route just around and close to the island.

They couldn't risk entering in other waters when there was a world out there that still considered Paradis the enemy.

The Rumbling worked, but for how long?

And that was the schedule, but some idiot from the higher ups also attended to the event and the news of him getting married spread out quickly.

Now the staff was doing their best to get ready all the preparations for the wedding and of course, they said…

It would be an honor if the “Heroes of Paradis” attended to the event.

Besides, Annie and Armin were long gone, probably trying to avoid the higher ups.

Mikasa probably was with them or alone somewhere.

Gabi and Falco were with Connie….

And probably with Jean

Shit.

Again.

He was probably with them, right?

No.

Why was she wondering where he was?

“So, you’re going to act like you’re not thinking about him?” Hitch finally asked, after waiting for an answer.

Pieck felt her heart almost stop when she heard her.

“I’m not…” she said.

“Oh, so is a he, good to know” Hitch had a wide grin all over her face.

Fuck.

How could she not realize that she was luring her into a trap.

“Let me guess, hmmm” she started tapping her fingers on the table and looked around the room.

Pieck was praying for her not to say his name, she was praying for her not to find him.

“What about him?” she pointed at a young man who was dressed very nicely at the distance.

“Hitch, even if you point at every man in this room, or in the whole ship, you’ll never find him because there’s no one I’ve been thinking about” the warrior respond, trying to fool her.

Oh, but little the warrior knew how much will the blonde had.

After 15 minutes trying to guess, Hitch finally gave up.

“You’re not fun, Pieck. I was just trying for you to have a nice evening” Hitch said a little annoyed.

Pieck tried her best not to look relieved.

“Hey, I don’t need to get laid to have fun. With you here, I already know that I’m in for a ride” Pieck chuckled.

Hitch giggled a little while handing some more champagne to her friend.

“I guess you’re right, who needs men anyway?”

Both of the girls clinked their glasses and took a sip from their drinks.

After Hitch finished, she looked behind Pieck and raised her eyebrows while waving.

“Hey Jean!”

This time she didn’t had any luck left, the warrior spit some of her drink the moment she heard the name.

The blonde girl couldn’t help but feel proud of herself, with a wide smile.

Pieck turned around and saw that there was no tall man behind her, frowning her eyebrows and biting her lip.

“There’s no way…you totally fell for it” Hitch couldn’t help but burst out of laughing while receiving a deadly glare from the warrior.

Pieck felt so embarrassed, now Hitch was going to think that she like Jean when she doesn’t, she doesn’t even know what to think.

“So…tall guys” Hitch answered with a teasing tone, calming herself.

“Hitch, you better not-” again, the warrior was interrupted.

But not by Hitch.

“Excuse me” a young voice came from behind her.

Hitch directed her eyes above Pieck’s head, confirming to the warrior that this time she wasn’t pranking her.

She turned around and met eyes with a young man, attractive, dressed in a suit and with short hair.

“Hi” Pieck answered. “Do you need something?”

“I was actually…” the man gulped; his left leg was shaking.

He was in front of one of the “Heroes” after all.

The warrior heard how Hitch was chuckling a bit.

Was this man trying to ask her out?

“I was wondering if I could get you a drink” the man muttered. “Only if you have time of course, if not I totally understand”

Pieck would have refused him quickly, respectfully of course, but quickly.

She started thinking, wondering inside her mind.

Hitch was more suspicious about Jean.

She also told her that she should have fun.

You know what?

Fuck it.

If Hitch wanted her to have a great night, she’ll have it. But under her terms.

“I’m sorry, she is interested in-

“Fine” the warrior said to the man, preventing Hitch from finishing the sentence.

“Huh?” Hitch asked confused, looking at the warrior who was getting up from her seat.

“Why the face Hitch? You told me I should try” Pieck whispered to her and winked at her.

As both of them left the table, Hitch grinded her teeth.

“She likes taller men anyways” Hitch screamed to them, but they were already leaving the room.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Over the way to the bar, Pieck listened to the man talk and talk.

She had to pretend sometimes to be listening.

Something about a prestigious position and fast cars were the only thing that her ears heard.

She thought about how she avoided Hitch for the moment but was now in this situation.

The warrior told herself that she should at least try and take her advice.

She was in this position now anyways and the man wasn’t bad looking.

But...she wanted her first time to be like this?

This man probably was looking just for sex, which was a good thing because if he would have implied something romantically, now that would have been a problem.

But she had doubts…she couldn’t just…do it.

Ever since she was a little girl, she's always had the idea that if you're going to be this intimate with someone, it has to be someone you love.

That was one of the things that her father taught her.

It warmed her heart just thinking about him.

He knew the destiny that she had.

The short life and curse that she was carrying.

And still, sometimes he took the time to explain things like that to her.

He took the time to brush her hair every morning when she was little.

He took the time to wait for her to fall asleep when she was scared of the dark.

Hoping that one day his daughter won’t need to go to war anymore.

Hoping that one day she’ll fall in love and think about having a family.

With him not in the picture anymore, she did her best to be strong and enjoy life.

And she did, she does, every time with Falco and Gabi, every time with Annie and Hitch.

Even today, just talking with the rest of them makes her feel good.

Yet, every time she thinks about love….

About someone with her….

There is nothing.

She knows so little about love….

Few men caught her attention but she quickly forgot them.

Thinking about her mission, her training, she had no time for those things.

At least, back then….

Then why?

Why when she now has no mission….

….no training….

….no lack of time….

Why is it so difficult?

She didn’t care if she was meant to be alone.

She has enough right now.

If-

“Hey, are you listening?” The young man asked, looking at her.

She quickly looks at him.

“Yeah….no, actually, I’m sorry” she said in an embarrassed tone.

The man chuckled. “It’s alright, I’ve been talking a lot about me, please, I want to know about you”

She was startled a little by the question and by the fact that she walked for some good minutes and didn’t realize that were already at the bar.

“Where’s the bartender?” the young man asked, while trying to find an employee.

“Well, we can wait” the man rang a small bell that was on top of the counter, alerting the bartender that there are customers waiting.

He leaned on his elbow placed on the counter and smiled at Pieck.

“Seriously, I want to know about you”

About her?

She came to the conclusion that he was asking about her “action” days, when she and the others stopped the Rumbling.

That is what everyone likes to ask her.

Every single time.

“There’s not much to- “

“Pieck?”

That voice.

His voice.

It made the small hairs of her ears to stand on end.

She looked behind the counter and saw Jean, looking at her with a frown on his face.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

What?

What was she doing here?

Well, of course, she boarded the ship with the others.

But what was she doing…

here?

“Jean?” his name escaped from her lips, she looked confused as him.

“Oh my- For the love of Ymir! Jean Kirstein, is such an honor, I didn’t have any idea…” the man frowned, looking at Jean’s clothes.

“Are you the bartender?” the man asked.

Jean didn’t answer, he was still looking at Pieck.

“Sir?” he heard the man asked again.

Pieck eyes traveled to the man who was waiting for an answer, by her expression she was starting to get nervous.

Jean finally snapped from his thoughts and look at the man.

“Sorry, what was your question?” Jean asked.

“Why are you the bartender? You are a hero; you shouldn’t be working behind a counter” the man added.

“I lost a bet, the price it was that if I lose, I would have to work as a bartender for the whole night” Jean explained, taking some glasses from the counter.

“I see, but sir please, you shoul-“

“I insist, please, it’s no problem at all” Jean answered, getting ready to take their orders.

He couldn’t stop looking at her from the corner of his eye.

He needed to get it together.

“Alright then…I’ll have two red blossoms” the man indicated, while turning to Pieck.

Jean remained silent; he didn’t even know what the fuck a red blossom was.

He couldn’t stop thinking all day about when he was in Pieck’s house.

And he felt sick for doing that.

He wasn’t even an old friend of hers or a loved one.

And yet his mind always drifted to that moment.

He couldn’t think about the compliment he gave her.

It would make him go red all over again.

But why the hell it felt so fucking good to say it?

He came to his senses the moment he heard her laugh.

Right, he almost forgot that she came to take a drink with that man.

“And of course, I’ve heard about you, Pieck Finger, I just didn’t want to be seen as a…crazy fan or…stalker” the man chuckled nervously.

“I must say, you have a really pretty name, I like it” the man added while not taking his eyes off Pieck.

Pretty.

He used the same compliment that Jean said to her.

Was this man for real?

“Thank you…” he heard her voice thanked the man, her tone was so soft, like she didn’t want the man to be disappointed or proud of his compliment.

“So…I heard your friend yelled that you like tall men” the man responded.

Jean stopped whatever he was doing.

He didn’t move, he didn’t open his mouth, he just stayed still.

Was he hearing things?

Did that man was telling the truth?

“I would say that I feel attraction to them, yes” Pieck answered.

No.

Stop.

Why was this making Jean smile?

Jean needed to distract himself, he needed to get out of there.

But every time he tried to look away, the image of the look on her face in that forest came to his mind.

That look was haunting him, not in a bad way, but he needed it to stop.

After some minutes, Jean looked at Pieck a few times.

She didn’t look back.

But rather than feeling bad about it….

He felt pleased.

Jean thought for some moments….

Is this life sending a signal?

Rather than asking to himself why was he feeling so thrilled about her….

He scolded to himself that he needed to ask why he couldn’t see how happy she was now.

Jean didn’t know her, he knows that, he knows that perfectly…. but that smile….

That smile that she gave him when he handed her that tissue for her to wipe her tears….

That smile was there…right now.

With that man.

He knew he doesn’t have any right to feel jealous or possessive about her, not in a million years.

But he wasn’t…. he was loving looking at her smiling like that.

That strong, fierce, sweet and beautiful woman that she is, was there right now.

Just enjoying a chat with a stranger.

He knows that she didn’t need anything to change who she was.

All the moments he looked at her through his entire life….

All the memories that he has of her…

She was…perfect just the way she is.

She is.

But right….

Who was him to tell that she was perfect?

He only was sure of something.

He is glad that someone is making her smile.

He is glad that that comfort that he gave her, she can find it in someone else.

He is glad that…she can heal the wounds from that day…

with someone who isn’t broken.

Jean managed to serve their drinks after a while.

He walked to them and placed the drinks on the counter.

“Thanks, sir, I appreciate it” the man told him with a nod.

Pieck on the other hand, this time, he met her eyes.

It was just for two seconds but felt like minutes.

That look was everything he needed.

He gave her a small smile; he was sure that she didn’t even knew why he was smiling.

But he did.

It was enough.

The tall scout started walking away and washed his hand with some water before heading out from the bar.

“It’s interesting to know that. Now, if you don’t mind, could you tell me about that day?” the man asked.

Like if they were connected, Jean and Pieck just widened their eyes and stood still.

No.

Don’t…

“I know the Rumbling was something extremely devastating, but I’m interested to know, did you see it all happened?” the man asked with an intrigue face.

Pieck couldn’t formulate any words, she couldn’t move, she looked like she was looking at ghosts.

Please…

“How many poor victims you had to witness that day?” the man asked again.

Don’t do that to her.

#jeanpikuweek2022 #jeanpiku

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mermaidssonshipss · 4 years ago

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the quiet one

anotha request! hehe this one was cute and i got excited when i read it, so thank you to whoever requested it! sorry it took so long to write it, but ... writers block is a bitch! and work is also a bitch!

warnings: none! bunch of cuteness. some cursing i think.

pairings: jj maybank x reader

word count: 3.2k

For the past three years, every Saturday morning at 8am, JJ Maybank could be found on your property, mowing the lawn to perfection. When he’d turned 18 a year ago and got a real job, he’d quit mowing lawns on Figure 8, but your parents had grown to love him, so they told him if he took every Saturday off to mow their lawn in the morning, they’d pay him what he would earn an entire day at work. What they didn’t know though, was that JJ didn’t plan on leaving them anyway, they were the one family he was happy to continue working for, even if it meant he would have to wake up at 5am to get it done before his actual job.

At around 8:15am, once JJ had gotten everything out and set up and was beginning to work, you would make your way onto the porch, a glass of iced coffee in one hand for you, and an ice cold water bottle in the other for him. You’d offered time and time again to make him an iced coffee, but he’d always declined, saying he felt bad having you make him a drink while he was being paid to fix your lawn. That had never stopped your mom from making him breakfast though, and while he could say no to you, he couldn’t say no to the woman who was paying him.

When he had first started, none of you had any idea what his home-life was like. Your dad had found out first, about a year into him mowing your law, when JJ pulled up one Saturday with a black eye, his chest and abdomen also covered in matching blue and black spots. When you saw him struggling to mow the lawn, clear he was in pain, you ran to your dad and told him, who was quick to go outside and question JJ. At first, JJ tried to play it off, saying he got into a fight with Rafe Cameron the night before, but as your dad had been at the Cameron’s house the night before and had seen Rafe, he knew it was a lie. Eventually, JJ gave in and told your dad everything.

After your dad had shared the information with your mom, she had begun to dote over the boy every Saturday, hence why she had been cooking him breakfast now for the last two years. She would also send him home with food for lunch and dinner for the next two days, and you’d caught your mom sending Luke glares when she ran into him at the market on The Cut you went to often: they had the best peaches on the island.

Though you’d known him for 3 years and shared friendly banter in the mornings when you gave him his water, you tended to shy away from having any actual conversation with him. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him or enjoy his presence, you’d just always been considered the quiet one, and you kept to yourself. You had friends, sure, but none of them truly knew who you were, nor did they ever really care enough to try and find out.

JJ had turned 19 a couple of months ago, and your mom had baked him a cake, your dad giving him an envelope with enough money in it to cover his rent for the next two months. He’d moved out of his dads home and was living in a small apartment on the cut by himself, though you’d heard him complain to your dad that it felt like the pogues never left him alone. You knew he didn’t mean it, as it was clear how much he loved his friends, but the thought of a distressed JJ trying to kick his friends out had made you giggle.

***

“Dude... you’re whipped,” Pope gave JJ a hard pat on the back, shaking his head at the blonde boy in front of him. JJ glared, snatching the wrapped up box from Pope’s hand.

“Shut up, Pope, I’m not whipped.”

“You’re whipped,” John B piped in, and JJ lifted his middle finger up at him, “We’ve had to listen to you sigh over this girl the last 3 years, and you’ve barely even talked to her.”

“We’ve talked!”

“Yeah, when she’s offering to make you an iced coffee and you say no. Which, you’re fucking stupid for by the way. Iced coffee is the shit.”

“I try to talk to her dude. But I just get.. nervous?” He questioned, not sure if that was the correct wording. Girls didn’t make JJ Maybank nervous, but for some reason, you did. “She’s just always so into her books and I don’t wanna disturb her. She’s also the prettiest girl on this island... she isn’t gonna give me the time of day.” JJ huffed, collapsing down onto the couch next to John B, the brunette shaking his head at him.

“Her parents love you, clearly, so that already gives you an advantage. Also, she comes and sits out on the porch every Saturday. And she’s been doing it for 3 years. She’s clearly doing it for a reason,” Pope piped in, swiping a coke out of JJ’s fridge.

“You like her. She clearly goes out of her way to see you so if she doesn’t already like you, she’s close. Just... I don’t know. Be JJ and get her to like you,” John B was useless, JJ had decided, shaking his head as he pushed himself back to his feet and snatched his car keys from the kitchen table.

“Clean up your shit!” JJ called over his shoulder as he took off out the front door, making his way to his car to head to your house.

***

The sun outside fought its way through your thin curtains, the light assaulting your closed eyelids, causing them to flutter open as you turned your face away from the window. You blew out a breath of air before reaching onto your nightstand and snatching your phone. Your notifications were full of texts and social media posts, everyone wishing you a happy birthday, and you smiled for a moment before tossing the phone into your sheets and pulling yourself out of bed.

By the time you had finished showering and thrown on a pair of simple frayed jean short shorts and a green cropped tube top, it was already 8:10am. You huffed, deciding to skip doing your makeup as you tossed your wet hair into a messy bun, your feet moving quickly down the stairs.

As you entered the kitchen, you could hear the lawn mower going off in the backyard, and your eyes wandered to the glass doors that would soon lead you out to JJ. You could see him through the glass, his shirt already off as he pushed the large piece of metal across the grass, sweat forming on his tan skin.

“Quit staring, you’re drooling.” your dads voice snapped you out of your trance, your cheeks turning scarlet as you threw a glare at him.

“I wasn’t staring.” you mumbled, moving around the kitchen as you began to make your iced coffee.

“You totally were,” he laughed, and he went to pat you on the head but you dodged him, throwing a spoon at him as a warning. You’d gotten the bun to look perfect, and you’d be damned if he fucked it up. He raised his hands in surrender before bending down and grabbing the thrown spoon, tossing it into the sink, “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Thanks dad,” you smiled, pressing a couple buttons on the Keurig so it would start making your coffee.

“Any plans for today? Besides staring at JJ for the next two hours?”

“I WASN’T STARING!” your voice raised right as JJ shut the lawn mower off, carrying outside through the window that was cracked open. JJ looked towards the glass doors leading into the kitchen, his eyes straining to see inside. He could see your dad bent over laughing, but you had moved so you were hidden behind the fridge. He shrugged, turning the lawn mower back on and getting back to work.

“I will kill you.” you glared, shooing him out of the kitchen as he shot you a wink before disappearing into his home office.

When you were done getting your coffee ready, you grabbed a water bottle and your book that was resting on the island, heading outside to the back porch. Immediately, JJ turned the lawn mower off once more, sending you a bright smile as he made his way over to you to grab the waiting bottle.

“Good morning, y/n,” he said as his fingers wrapped around the cold plastic, grazing your own softly.

“Good morning, JJ.” you replied, sending him a shy smile. That was usually the end of your morning conversation as you would generally move to the swing on the porch to read, but today, JJ kept going.

“It’s your birthday.” he stated, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“It is.” you had placed your coffee down on the outside table now, watching him curiously. He hesitated for a moment before moving around you and heading to the porch swing you usually sat on, and you watched as he pulled up the pillow and grabbed onto a pink box that had been hidden.You gave him a shy smile as he handed it to you, the apples of his cheeks tinting an intense shade of red.

“It’s stupid so don’t expect anything wonderful but... yeah.” He mumbled out quickly, his hand gripping onto the back of his neck as he looked down at his feet.

“You didn’t have to get me anything at all, JJ.” You took the box from his hands, your own cheeks matching his. You looked up at him, questioning if you could open it, to which he nodded.

As you pulled the wrapping paper off, it revealed a golden toned leather journal with your name engraved in the middle, the quote “I hope she’ll be a fool- that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.” underneath it in a beautiful script.

“JJ...” you gasped, your eyes lighting up as you looked at the timid boy in front of you, ”How’d you know that’s my favorite quote?” your eyebrow raised in question as your fingertips delicately traced over the engraving.

“Senior year of high school, your school came to my high school on the cut and my English teacher made everyone go around and say their favorite book and quote. You were the only one who actually had an answer. Then a year or so ago you left a book out lying on the porch swing and when I passed it, I saw that same quote highlighted.” He shrugged as he spoke, brushing off the words, but your heart had been racing the entire time as you fought back a wide smile.

“This is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me, and I mean that. Thank you, JJ.” You placed the journal down on the table that was next to you on the porch and lifted yourself up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around JJ’s bare shoulders in a hug. He hesitated for a moment, not expecting the physical contact, but he quickly wrapped his own arms around your small waist, breathing in the scent of your orange blossom shampoo.

***

JJ had been at your house everyday for the past two weeks. Your dads car had broken down, and apparently JJ was the only one who could fix it. Your dad was willing to pay very generously for his time, so the shop JJ worked at allowed him to come to your house to take care of it. While your dad was away at work, you’d been given the assignment of hanging out with JJ to “keep an eye on him,” though you knew your dad was just doing it so the two of you would spend more time together. And you did. He’d finally begun accepting your iced coffee offers in the morning, and the two of you would mess around in your kitchen each day cooking lunch, seeing what exactly you could make with all the ingredients in the house. While you’d always found JJ attractive, your feelings for him were definitely blossoming into much more. You’d catch yourself staring off at his lips as he spoke, wondering what the red tinted skin would feel like against yours.

JJ had already had feelings for you before the past two weeks came around, but now that the two of you were actually getting to know each other, he came to the realization that while relationships scared him and he’d always shied away from them, he wanted one with you. If he wanted to analyze his feelings even more, he’d hesitate of course, but he was willing to admit that he was falling for you: he had, actually, when Pope grilled him the night before about the amount of time you two were spending together, and how bright the smile on JJ’s face had been lately.

Currently, JJ was leaning over the hood of your dads car, his jeans covered in oil, and your eyes were transfixed on his bare back, following a few sweat droplets as they trailed down the tan skin. You were sat atop one of the building counters in your garage, your bottom lip caught between your teeth absentmindedly. When JJ turned around abruptly, you snapped your eyes up, sitting up straighter as your cheeks turned red when you noticed the smirk on his face, your fingers gripping onto the edge of the wooden counter in embarrassment. Your eyes were wide, an innocent expression playing on your features, and JJ had to stop himself from laughing.

“It’s not very nice to stare, pretty girl.” He remarked, the nickname he’d recently begun using towards you causing your stomach to stir.

“I wasn’t!” You defended, your eyes squinting into a glare, but as JJ’s chuckle rang through the garage, a smile broke out on your face.

“To be fair,” he spoke, wiping his hands on a towel before discarding it onto the floor as he approached you, “I stare at you quite often. Have for the past 3 years.”

As he spoke, your gaze had shamelessly moved down his torso, but once the words he had said actually registered, your eyes quickly moved back up to his shining blue orbs as they watched you closely.

“Really?” your voice came out as a whisper, disbelief riddled in your tone. JJ had always been someone you saw as unattainable: he’d made his dislike for kooks very clear, and he was also notorious on the island for not being into commitment.

“Does that really come as a surprise?” he’d lowered his voice as he was now stood right in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs gently, and you were finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the heat from his skin on yours.

“I... well... yeah...” you stuttered out, not really sure what to say or how to explain it.

“While your mom and dad are wonderful people, they aren’t the reason I’ve been mowing your lawn for the past 3 years.” At this point, he’d pushed your thighs apart so he could stand in-between them, his body almost pressed against yours now.

“What’s the reason?” the words were rushed and sounded breathless as his thumbs were now rubbing into the skin of your thighs in slow circles, and you’d missed how his head was dipping down so his face was level with yours.

“You.”

His lips were on yours seconds later, gliding against yours slowly as the cinnamon scented lipgloss you were wearing invaded his tastebuds. His nose bumped with yours softly as you titled your head, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek softly as his arms now wound around your waist, pulling you into his warm body as you leaned into his touch. He had your bottom lip captured between his now, his teeth softly nipping at the skin as he pulled on it lightly before pulling away, and you let out a quiet whine at the absence of his lips on yours, pulling him back down and connecting your lips once again.

This kiss was less timid than the first had been, your teeth clanking together gently as you both pushed to deepen it. His hand was now gripping onto the back of your neck, his fingertips pressing into the delicate skin as your hands rested on his bare chest, finally exploring the skin you’d been dreaming about.

A cough caused the two of you to pull apart, you jumping down from the counter and JJ moving back over to the car, both of your faces reddening as you saw your dad standing there, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Finally. That took longer than I expected.” he began to speak, the smirk turning into a smile, “JJ, join us for dinner tonight?”

“I... uh... sure..?” JJ’s voice was laced with confusion, his heart racing in his chest as he’d expected your dad to scream at him, but his reaction had been the exact opposite.

Your dad simply nodded his head before clapping his hands together, sending the two of you a thumbs up as he left the garage, leaving the both of you standing there in silence until you heard the front door close.

“Did he...” you began, your eyes still trained on where your dad had been standing.

“I think he.. planned on this happening...” JJ finished for you, gazes finally connecting. He had a smile on his face, but you were still confused, and your face was still hot as you thought about the fact that your dad had literally just caught you making out with JJ when you’d been denying you felt anything for him for the past 3 years.

“Hmph.” You hummed after a moment, but a small smile was playing on your now swollen lips. JJ walked back over to you, grabbing your hands in his and lacing your fingers together as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I know I’m not known for relationships and shit,” he started, squeezing your hands as you looked up at him, hope filling your eyes, “But I think it’s just because by the time I was old enough to really want one, you’d come into my life, and I couldn’t get you off my mind. No one was you. No one made me feel the way you did, and half the time we only said a few words to each other and the rest of our time together was me staring at you while you read, and I still felt like a fucking 10 year old with his first crush. I want to do this, but I want to do this with you, and only you. And I’d also like to say that Pope helped me rehearse this, because I’m shit with feelings and probably would’ve ended up calling you dude at some point and ruining everything.” You laughed loudly as he finished and he sent you a shy smile, causing you to shake your head in disbelief before moving onto your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss against his rough lips, pulling away before he could deepen it.

“I’d like to do this with you, too.... dude.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #rudy pankow x reader #outer banks imagine

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years ago

Text

The Bear Meets The Dragon

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Mormont! Reader

Requested by: @thankyoualexkingston-blog

Word Count: 714

Note: I’m gonna start with my requests 🥺 (Not my gif)

You’ve always been so fascinated about the stories people told about the courageous and marvelous Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons. You’ve been hearing these tales since the birth of her children. She has done an amazing job in the cities of Essos, freeing the slaves and bringing justice. Not everyone believed in such things, dragons, but you always did, since you were a little girl you loved to read all about the Targaryens.

The North didn’t recognize any other southerner ruler, not since Eddard Stark was killed by the Lannisters. Now Daenerys was coming all the way here to help Jon Snow, the Stark siblings, and other houses to fight the threat of the Army of the Dead. You were so excited to meet her in person. She was quite the woman, she accomplished a lot in a very short amount of time even though things were harsh. She stood out, you admire her courage, her strength. Perhaps this was unusual cause you’ve never interacted with her but you somehow fell in love with her. You’ve also learned she has gorgeous silver hair, exquisite lilac eyes, lovely features. Your mind wanders in her almost every day, and every night. You pictured her in several scenarios, your favorite is on top of her largest fiery dragon, you were sure she had a kind smile, just as her heart. You dreamed of how it would be your first meeting. You just couldn’t wait for that day.

Something came up in Bear Island so you had to go back there to take care of it, your little sister Lyanna stayed in your stead whilst you were dealing with the situation.

You stopped at Crofter’s Village, almost arriving at Winterfell. The sight took your breath away, and the sound of roaring made you grinned widely.

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?” A voice commented behind you.

“Yes! I can’t believe my eyes. And their mother... I’ve heard a thousand stories of her bravery and her beauty, she has this precious hair, a smile that would bring millions of people to their knees.” You didn’t avert your gaze from the astonishing dragons flying ahead of you.

The woman giggled. “You haven’t met her yet?”

“No. I haven’t had the pleasure. I was on my way actually.”

“Well, she will surely like you. Maybe even Drogon or Rheagal will agree on taking you for a ride.” You modestly chuckled.

“How do you know their names?”

“A mother chooses the names of her children in the North too, right?” You promptly turned to your side to find a charming young woman beside you. The words got stuck in your mouth when you realized who she was. Your heart was beating incredibly fast.

“You are... Oh gods! I-I... your grace. I’m sorry if my rambling annoyed you.” When you managed to finally speak she smiled brightly.

“It didn’t, it was so kind of you to say those things about me.”

“I’m Y/N Mormont.” You told her a bit bashfully.

“Ser Jorah spoke to me several times about his endearing cousin, he missed you. He failed to mention you are the prettiest girl in the North.” Daenerys called you pretty? Not even the cold could hid your flushed cheeks.

“Thank you, your grace. But you are truly breathtaking.” She laughed and you swore that was the most pleasing sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

“And you are sweet. It’s nice to know that I have admirers up here.” She replied with a small blushed too.

“Well, Daenerys Stormborn. I’ve heard quite a lot of your journey and your purpose, I was thrilled with your courage, of what you did in Essos, you stood up for the weakest, you have a gentle heart, your grace, you will restore peace and prosperity to Westeros I have no doubt.”

“Thank you for having faith in me, my lady. I shall not disappoint you. Now that I’m here I believe in new alliances and friendships.”

“I’m glad I finally met you, my Queen.” You said with enthusiasm.

“Me too, Lady Y/N.”

You called her my Queen, does that mean your house recognizes her as the rightful ruler? Yes. House Mormont will always be on the service of Daenerys Targaryen as long as you live.

#game of thrones fic #daenerys targaryen one shot #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #queen daenerys #mother of dragons #dragon queen #khaleesi

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operationcavill · 4 years ago

Text

Moody

Henry and Y/N have become close friends through Henry’s current project, and things seem to escalate when Y/N agrees to go to dinner with her fellow production team member, Tom.

⭐️ Contains sexual content. Please do not read if you are not a fan of explicit material.

Henry’s moody. He’s been in a bad mood all week and no matter what he does, he can’t seem to shake it. He’s sitting in Y/N’s kitchen, watching her make their tea and talking about what she wants to wear on her date tonight. Her delicate hands dunk the tea bags in and out of the water but he’s focused on her new manicure, she said it was a good color for autumn. He was jealous, a trait he wasn’t too fond of, “Oh, what about a grey sweater? Might wear that, looks good with my hair down.”

Henry watches the steam from his mug rise and he tries to seem excited for her but he’s not, “You always look nice.” He doesn’t even realize that he’s almost whispering. Y/N notices that he’s off, maybe he’s tired or had a bad day at work. He can feel her looking at him but he doesn’t bother to raise his head.

“What’s the matter?” Her hand reaches out to touch his arm but he seems to flinch a little bit so she draws back, “Don’t like the script changes?”

Henry snaps, “Nothings the matter.”

Her face matches his now. She sets her mug down and scoffs, “Jeez, fine. I’m gonna go get dressed.”

“Y/N…” She turns on her heels, showing him a pouty face that is sure to stick in Henrys’ brain forever, “Don’t go to dinner with him.”

“What?”

“We were all out, had a few and told him how beautiful you looked, and I was gonna just do it. I was gonna ask you for a date. He just wanted to beat me to it.” His lips are in a tight line and his arms are crossed.

She scoffs in disbelief, “But Tom asked me like a week ago.”

Henry gets up from the island and walks over to Y/N, getting closer to her face, “Told Tom as soon as I saw you walk into that bar. Said, that’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, look how pretty she is.” Her back is now against the wall and she somehow feels much smaller than usual. “Watched you dance with him, kiss his cheek goodnight. Saw you move your body against him and I wanted it to be me. I wanted to touch you, wanted to kiss you, be with you.” Her heart is beating so fast that she wouldn’t be surprised if he could see it beating out of her chest.

“I-um, I-“ Y/N can’t get her words out. Her eyes are locked with Henry’s and he doesn’t seem like he’ll be moving any time soon. His hand moves to rest on her hip and his thumb sneakily rubs the skin underneath her shirt, “Henry.”

“I shouldn’t tell you what to do but I want you and I don’t want you to go out with him.” His other hand cups her jaw, then rakes through her hair as he moves even closer, “I’ll regret it if I don’t kiss you right now. ‘Cause I know there’s a chance you won’t talk to me after this.”

His lips touch hers and she can feel herself pulse for him, just from one small kiss. Without even realizing it, she deepens it. Her hands slide up his chest and rest there, periodically gripping the fabric. Things quickly become all lips, tongue and teeth; hands squeezing and mouths moaning. Within minutes, Y/N is straddling Henry on the couch, moving her hips against him and then, the doorbell rings, ”Shit, that’s him.” Henry tries to suppress his laughter but he can’t, he chuckles into her neck and nibbles at her skin, “No, no. We have to stop. I have to go to the door.” He groans and grips her ass, singling her that he wants her to stay where she is, ”I have to tell him that I’m sick or something.”

He continues to suckle at her collarbone, “Or you could let him stand there.”

“Just a second,” She tries to fluff her hair and adjust her clothes, and hopes to god that there’s not a hickey on her neck. She opens the door to Tom, who manages to weasel his way in the door without even saying a word, “Um, I’m sorry I didn’t call but I don’t think I can make it out tonight.”

Tom leans against the radiator, acting smug and also completely oblivious to the fact that Henry is on her couch, watching them. “I hadn’t planned on spending much time out anyway.” Y/N suddenly feels her above-the-moon mood fading and wishes she would’ve left him outside as Henry suggested. He reaches out for her and Y/N moves back, “Weren’t this shy when you were dancing on me.”

She can practically feel Henry’s eyes on her, “I-I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I can go out tonight.”

“Come on, I’ll take care of you.” He takes off his coat, throwing it behind him only to have it thrown back forcefully.

“Actually, we’ve got that covered, mate.” Tom turns around in confusion, exhaling angrily as he sets his eye’s on him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

It’s Henry’s turn to be smug, “Taking care of Y/N.” It didn’t matter if he was just there to pick up a script, he wanted Tom out of there.

Tom looks back and forth between the two, noticing a smirk on Henrys face. “You’re a piece of work, Cavill.” Y/N rolls her eyes and Henry continues grinning. “Can’t handle the idea of not getting every woman you want, had to swoop in when I laid the groundwork?”

Henry drops the grin and his brows pull together, “Y/N, would you excuse us for a moment?” She messes with the sleeves of her shirt and is clearly hesitant, “It’ll only be a second, Love.” Y/N slowly moves to the kitchen, wanting to catch any of the words they’re about to exchange, “If I do recall, it was you who creeped in and thought you could take out my girl.”

“Well, if she’s your girl, why’d she say yes to me?”

“She was saying yes to me right up until you knocked on the door.” Y/N’s cheeks turn red even though no one can see her. “You don’t even respect her enough to take her out, thought you could just come here for a quickie.”

“And what makes you different? You clearly wanted to fuck her, too.” Tom makes his bold statement as if Y/N isn’t even in the next room.

Henry is more that offended, he’s disgusted, “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Woman like Y/N—“ Henry cuts him off before he can finish.

“Men like you don’t deserve women like Y/N,” Toms jaw tenses and removes his hands from his pockets, “get out of her house.”

“What’re you gonna do? Hit me? What will they think of you then?” Henry is not a violent man by any means, but Tom is testing a side of him he’s never acted upon.

Y/N begins to pace in her kitchen and hopes to god that this doesn’t escalate. “If she wants to, she’ll call you later. Now, leave.” Tom keeps his stance for only a few seconds before getting in his face, “You think I won’t throw you out of here, Tom?”

“And Mr. Perfect ruin his reputation?” Tom pushes Henry, only to be pushed into a wall, knocking over a planter that leaves soil scattered along the floor. Tom groans but musters up the strength to punch Henry in his mouth.

“Henry!” He ignores her, and shoves him out of the front door, making him tumble down her porch steps. Y/N pulls him inside, noticing his bruised face and bloody hand, “Henry, stop it!”

He’s breathing heavily and hisses as she touches his cheek, “I’m sorry,” she walks off to the kitchen, returning to find him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. He feels her hand at his chin, gently lifting it up to place a frozen bag of blueberries on his face, “M’sorry.”

She sighs, “You can’t do that stuff, Henry.” She sits herself down on the couch and places his hand on the pillow in her lap. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. He lifts his free hand to touch her face but she moves away and goes back to cleaning his hand. “Didn’t think you were that kind of man.”

He can feel her disappointment, “I’m not.”

“Sure as hell seems like it.”

“I’m not. I— I didn’t mean to scare you or ruin your plants.”

She finishes with his hand but he leaves it on the pillow, hoping to feel her fingers again, “People are gonna wonder what happened to your face.”

He grins, “Defending your honor.”

“You’re such a nerd. Why didn’t you just talk to me about it?”

“I got nervous,”

“You got nervous?” She hitches her eyebrow up at him and he pulls her down on her back, so he can hover over her.

“I’m not nervous now,” He can no longer feel the pain in his hand, he’s too focused on Y/N, “I want you, not just a part of you, all of you. I wanna take you to dinner, make you dinner. I wanna teach you how to make that cake you loved. I wanna wake up and give you kisses and get your coffee.” He kisses her forehead and then her cheek, “Two creams, two sugars.”

“Is that you asking me out?” Henry settles between her legs and kisses her neck.

“Yeah,” His stubble tickles her and he tries not to laugh along with her, ”I’m trying to turn you on, stop laughing.”

“You’re tickling me!” Y/N’s hands circle around him, feeling the muscles under his shirt and bringing him close to her, “Come here,” She softy kisses his bruising cheek before sweetly kissing him on the lips.

Things are slower this time, there’s no rush or interruptions to be made. It’s just the two of them enjoying every inch of each other. It’s his shirt that goes first, then hers, “Lemme take you upstairs.” Y/N doesn’t get a chance to answer due to being throw over his shoulder.

She playfully slaps his bum while being upside down, “You’ve got a nice ass.” He takes advantage of the position she’s in to bite the fleshy part of hers, reveling in her squeal. He plops her on the bed, looking mischievous, “Stop staring at me and do something.”

He smirks at her, slightly tilting his head, “Make me.”

Y/N gets situated on her knees and leans forward, placing a kiss between his belt buckle and belly button before scooting all the way back to the headboard. He watches her more intently, observing every single move she makes. Y/N starts by taking her pants off, then her bra. He raises his eyebrow as she readjusts so her back is flat against the bed. Her hands run down her torso, upwards to her chest before finally sinking between her legs. Henry’s mouth slowly opens while her legs spread, and her fingers graze up and down her slit.

Henry responds by undoing his jeans, placing his hand in them and touching himself to match, “Do something.” He’s enjoying the show too much. Y/N’s demand forum is hard to resist but look at her.

“And miss out on you playing with that pretty little cunt?” Her hand briefly pauses but continues with more pressure. She’s never heard him used vulgar language outside of acting, and having it paired with him touching himself? She can feel herself get wetter and wetter. Her legs close and squeeze together, “Don’t fucking close your legs.” His voice raises slightly, causing her to open them quickly, “Such a good girl.”

Y/N watches him undress, leaving him to walk to the side of the bed completely nude. He strokes himself, he uses his other hand to reach over and touches her bottom lip. She fully understands what he wants , but God, she wants to hear him say it, “Not gonna ask me nicely?”

He bends down, looking her right in the eye, “I want to feel the back of your throat before I fuck that sweet pussy of yours.” He straightens up, puts his hands behind her head and gently guides her mouth on to him. Her lips wrap around him, her wet, warm tongue glides along him, “Look at me,” Y/N drags her eyes to his while he adds pressure to the back of her head. Henry moves her slowly and her eyes close as he hits his promised destination. He can feel her mouth fill up with saliva and it just adds to the naughty sight. He only does this a few times before exiting her mouth with a pop.

He wipes her mouth for her and even moves her hair back behind her ears. He then sits on the edge of the bed, holding his arm out for her. Y/N stands in front of him but doesn’t now if she should take the reigns or let him total control. She doesn’t get the chance to decide. Henry pulls her on top him, but not entering her, “Quite the tease, hmm?”

“Is it teasing or is it savoring every second with a cute, sexy, little thing like yourself?” She feels her face heat up and gives an involuntary moan. She ruts up against him, letting him feel just a fragment of how wet she really is, “Lemme fuck you,” he kisses her, his lips floating to her ear and whispering, “Can I come in you?”

If he wasn’t holding her so close, she might have slid right to the floor. She whines, thrusting against him once more, “I’m on the pill,” without hesitation he gets her on her back and kisses her vigorously. His hands squeeze her hip and thigh as he enters her. She feels a pleasurable burning, being stretched ever so slightly by Henry, she giggles, “Wow.”

He smiles and kisses her again, “What was that?”

Y/N wraps her arms around his neck, reveling in the fact that he’s not at all serious, “You just feel good.” He squeezes her body even tighter, aggressively pumping into her this time, making her gasp, “So good.”

He starts to go faster, eventually pulling her by her hips and groaning as her walls quiver with each move he makes, “I bet you’re so cute when you come,” He didn’t realize he said it out loud, it was something that appeared in his mind and he couldn’t keep it to himself. A hand moves between them to thumb at her clit, “Show me.” Y/N is already weak for that accent and when shows any kind of authority in his voice, she could fall apart. He spits, an action she would usually find reprehensible, but the wetness lands on her folds, followed by slap, “I want you to show me.”

Y/N swears she hasn’t felt a build up this immense in years. She looks at him just as he smirks at her, and adds pressure to her clit, “Faster,” Henry obliges and watches her unravel for him.

He feels her come hard and listens to every single moan, groan, and breath she makes while saying him name, “Beautiful.” Y/N is still throbbing when he pounds into her, looking for his own release.

She grips Henry’s hands that are tight on her hips, “Come in me, Henry.” He let’s out what she can only describe as a growl. He starts to get erratic with his movements until his eyes shut tightly, and he exhales shakily. She let’s a another giggle escape her.

“God, you’re adorable.” She motions him to lower himself, allowing her to kiss him.

She can feel Henry smile though their kiss, “I think you’re definitely in a better mood.”

“Definitely,” He briefly breaks the kiss and runs his idea finger down her nose, “You wanna get some nachos?”

Y/N smiles, “Yeah.”

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers @xxxkatxo @lunedelorient @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @viking-raider

#my posts #text #henry cavill #henry cavill blog #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill angst #every name is made up except for hen #henry cavill smut #my writing #operationcavill

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krreader · 4 years ago

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BTS reacting to a fan telling you neither you, nor your unborn child is deserving of them.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: language ; bullying genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.5k+

a/n: I hope you like it, my love ♥

kim seokjin

You should have expected something like this to happen, but with the amount of years that you've been with Seokjin and the bare amount of hate, a naive part inside of you must have thought that his fans were now all accepting of your relationship with him.

Wrong.

The moment word got out that you were pregnant, the hate started flooding in, so badly, that you were nearly drowning in it.

But hating on someone online and hating on someone face-to-face, were two very different things. At least online, you had the option to close your laptop and surround yourself with positive things to ignore the hate.

When that group of girls approached you today, though, you had no way out and had to listen to them saying how ugly you were and that Seokjin deserved a prettier mother of his child, so that the child would be pretty too, but now the child would be ugly because you were the mother.

And as you told your husband that, all he could do was stare at you with furrowed eyebrows and an open mouth. Seokjin had heard a lot of hateful words throughout the years, but this was definitely the worst.

“I think it's time,” Seokjin nodded, mostly to himself, but clarified what he meant only a moment later, “I've been in this group for a long time, Jagi. I'm not the 20-year old that debuted years ago anymore. I'm about to be the father of the prettiest baby girl in this world and I want this family to have my full attention.”

“Jin, no..-” this wasn't what you had wanted to happen when you told him.

“It's time, Jagi,” he repeated, “I'm not sad about it. The boys will always be my family, but right now, this family needs me more.”

His hand came up to your belly and you smiled a little.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time for a change.

min yoongi

“What if I leave?”

“Leave where?” you wiped away the tears with your sleeve.

“Leave the group, I mean.”

You stared at him for a moment, then you let out a snort, “Don't talk bullshit, Yoongi.”

“I'm not! Listen, you and I have talked about this before, if not now, then when? Now is the perfect time! If people think that saying these horrible things to you will break you and I up, then let's show them that the opposite happens!” suddenly, he got all riled up, “Just imagine it, you, me, our son, maybe Jeju island! We could buy a house at the beach and I could take our boy fishing every day and then you could watch us on a rocking chair and maybe eventually, you’d be holding another baby, this time a baby girl and..-”

He stopped when he saw you had stopped crying and instead were now smiling.

“I haven't seen you this passionate about something in a long time, you know?”

There was a time when he talked like that about this industry. But that time was over.

Priorities change.

And Yoongi's had the moment that your pregnancy test came back positive.

jung hoseok

Hoseok couldn't understand some of his fans.

Who were they expecting him to end up with? Because you were perfect for him, there would be nobody else like you.

But maybe that's what it was. Maybe the 'You deserve better' thing, was indirectly meaning them. The fan that came for you.

Jealousy.

“Hey,” Hoseok's voice was soft as he knelt down in front of you and began brushing away the never-ending tears, “What they say doesn't matter. It's what you and I say that matters. It's this baby that matters. This baby, that we both love so much already.”

“But what if I really am not the mother you deserve for..-”

“No,” Hoseok instantly shook his head, “We're not even going to go there, because it's not true. You will be the best mother in the world and that has nothing to do with me. You are your own person, (Y/N). Don't let them take that away from you.”

kim namjoon

You had expected Namjoon to run to Bang as soon as he heard what had happened to you. But never in your life did you think he'd lose his cool like he had today.

But then again, this wasn't just about you anymore. This was about his unborn child, too.

“What did he say?” you wiped away the last remaining tears when he walked out of Bang's office.

“Nothing. He said nothing. But I said what I had to,” he gently pulled you up and wrapped his hand around yours, “That offer that your family made you.. does that still stand?”

“About.. the house? Why are you asking me that?”

Namjoon smiled a little, even if he seemed unsure, “I just.. quit.”

“WHAT?!”

“It feels weird, but at the same time, it's so fucking freeing, (Y/N). For the first time in years, I can finally focus on what I want to focus on. And that's you and our baby now.”

“Namjoon, this isn't what I wanted. If I had known you’d do this, I wouldn’t..-”

“Babe, this isn’t a decision I made in the heat of the moment. I’ve been playing with this idea for a long time now, even before you told me you were expecting,” he turned to you once you two were in the elevator, “I'm happy I made this choice. And I know it's the right one. Now I can finally have the family life that I've dreamt of for the last years.”

park jimin

There was a reason that Bangtan thought Jimin was the scariest when he was angry, mainly because he barely got angry and when he did, it was such an unusual and unpredictable sight that they all retreated.

But these moments with Bangtan in which he was angry, were nothing compared to the anger he had within him right now as he saw you sobbing your eyes out because some jealous fan had told you that neither you nor the baby you were expecting, were good enough for Jimin.

If it were any other situation that was less serious, he would have simply wrapped an arm around you, pulled you close, and told you that it'd be okay. But this wasn't one of those situations.

“Where are you going?” you sobbed out when he got up.

But Jimin didn't respond. He simply picked up his phone and a few moments later, he started talking: “It's me. Yes. Listen, I've done everything you wanted me to do, I've put my wife second again and again, when, especially now, I should always be putting her first. But this? This is overstepping a boundary that I'm not comfortable with anymore. This happens again, I'm out. I don’t care what you have to do to make it stop, you make it stop, or I swear I will take my family and go somewhere they’re safer than here,” and with that, he ended the phone call. And when he turned around, he found you staring at him with an open mouth, “I've.. been thinking about this for a while now. Maybe it'd be better this way.”

“Don't say that. Of course, what happened today hurt me like crazy, but..-”

“No, (Y/N). There is no but's anymore,” he sat down next to you and grabbed your hands, “I'm not letting them treat the person that is most important to me like that. If they want to act this way, then let them deal with the consequences.”

kim taehyung

Taehyung had held you in his arms the moment he found you sobbing in the bedroom and pulled you closer the more you told him about what had occurred today.

But now that you've calmed down a little, he slid lower, until he could press a kiss against your belly and began to whisper: “Your mommy is a very strong woman, baby bean. Others might not see it or maybe they’re simply ignoring it, but you and I know and yours, and my opinion on the matter is what matters most. I can't wait for you to come and join our family and see for yourself what a wonderful mother she will be.”

Your fingers brushed through his hair, a smile spreading on your face, but tears were still coming out of your eyes, “I hope you're right.”

“I told you. My opinion on this is more valid than that of somebody that doesn't even know you.”

That was undoubtedly true.

jeon jeongguk

It was a mess when you got home, you were crying, screaming and so furious that he was afraid you'd break something.

But the one thing that always soothed you was his voice, and so you two ended up in bed together, you cuddled into his side, while he sung one of his songs to you, his fingertips gently running over the side of your belly.

“What if this will only get worse?” you whispered, after he ended yet another song.

Jeongguk sighed, kissing the top of your head, “We will figure it out. No, I will figure it out. These fans are my responsibility.”

“They're not.”

“Yes, they are,” he grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “They are when they come for my pregnant girlfriend.”

You smiled a little, cuddling closer into his side and taking in a deep breath, his perfume calming all your senses down immediately.

You felt safe, right here, right then.

With him.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #requests

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nypmphetsbastard · 4 years ago

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PARADIS ISLAND

Genre: slowburn fanfiction, college!au

Pairing: yelena x fem!reader

Summary: college becomes a whirlpool of new people and emotions once you meet a woman by the name of yelena manages to weasel her way into your once perfect life and tear down everything you ever thought to be true. From religious views to friendship, she builds something new. Now, she introduces you to new world she likes to call Paradis Island.

Warnings: angst, smut, hurt/comfort, struggles with Religion, homophobic comments/people

A/N: this story is posted on ao3 {NYMPHETSBASTARD} as well as wattpad {SUGACODED} because wattpad is acting a fool and I need another place to save this story👍

————

Leaving home was always a rough time for both parent and child. Anybody who grew up in a loving home tended to stick to that home like glue, not wanting to separate from it and instead choosing to go to schools and jobs closer to home, closer to family. Those without however, preferred their freedom. When the clock struck 12 and everybody went to sleep was the only time they'd have to themselves, the only time they'd ever have to feel safe and relaxed — leaving home wasn't as hard on them.

You...well you were a different story. You didn't like a lot of things, being grabbed, having things snatched out of your hands, people taking your food without permission, somebody talking to you when you're clearly trying to avoid them — the list could go on. But growing up leaving you home never seemed to cross your mind. For whatever reason you felt like things were fine at home, not perfect but not terrible either, nine year old you didn't stop to think that one day you'd have to make the decision to move away from your friends and family. The small town you were in had a lot of older people, ones that never separated from their high school popularity phase and believed that the world revolved around them and them only, the others were newly young adults seeking any way out. You hoped you'd be the ladder.

Your parents had never spoken to you about leaving the house, meaning you grew up only learning what was taught in school. World War One and two, Pearl Harbor, slavery, and other shitty thing America did and or went through throughout the course of centuries on end — all only ever learned or discussed in school. The main focus in your household was religion and religion only. It's what you grew up to be right, nothing else existed in your mind besides that.

There was nothing wrong with that. Well...until around the time high school hit. Senior year was the year stressed to you since you were a freshman, you could barley fathom the fact that you'd have to apply for colleges, work on a bunch of different essays and possibly move away when you were young and you could still barley understand it now. But it was only then, then when they had handed you that slip of paper of which colleges you were going to apply to did you realize something; you didn't want to end up in a boring old relationship with a guy from your sophomore geometry class, get married, have a couple of kids that would send you to a nursing home and never live the life you dreamed of having.

You wanted that Disney channel teenage life, teenage adventures that would give you enough memories to last a lifetime and successfully say you lived your life to the fullest. While your teenage years had been spent in a church every weekday, your nose in school books and your bedtime forever stuck at the time 8:30, you swore your adulthood would be different.

Everything would be different.

"Are you sure you're not missing anything, hun?" Your mother asked nervously watching you pack the trunk up with your suitcase and extra bags. You yawned into your hand due to the more than early hours you guys were beginning the trip in order to make it early to your destination.

"You made a list mom, I don't think there's anything I could miss." She smiled your small joke and got in the passenger seat of the car, "You know, you guys really don't have to come. It's nearly a 4 and half hour drive over there, not including the drive back." You mentioned

"We already told you we're going to stop by my mother in laws and stay for a while." Your father explained, you sighed and got into the backseat of the car.

You brought your favorite stuffy and laid your head on it against the window as you prepared yourself for the 4 hour drive from your old childhood home to a new place where new memories could be made. It felt almost nostalgic watching your entire childhood fly by from behind a window. The blue slide you loved going up and down on till you felt like throwing up. The metal pole that always terrified you trying to go down. The monkey bars you taught yourself to climb because of the lack of friends you had that could teach you. It all seemed to disappear behind flashes of trees and road as the car drifted further and further away from the place you called home.

"Morning sunshine! We're here!" Your father exclaimed, waking you out of your slumber. You groaned quietly and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, taking a moment to look out the window at the large building in front of you. Gawking at the size, you shook your head and stepped out of the car to get a closer look.

"This is much smaller than the one I went to." Mentioned your father, squinting up at the building and helping you pull your suitcase out of the trunk.

"That's because you went to community college, honey." You chuckled at your moms observation and rolled your suitcase up to the sidewalk.

"Well I'll see you guys—" you started until your words were cut off by your mother slapping her hands down on your shoulders and giving you a firm look.

"I better not come visit you in a few months and see you with a purple Mohawk, piercings and a girlfriend, you hear me?" You nodded at her dramatic remarks and felt yourself internally cringe at her words.

"Hopefully we come back to you with a kind little boyfriend and a college degree we can show off to the rest of the family." Your father said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders and gave you a tight lipped smile.

"Call us when you get settled and show us your roommate."

"And if they're anything we told you to not look like or if they smoke, drink or are sexually active in public, please change roommates."

They listed off, you internally rolled your eyes but still managed to give them a nod.

"Okay, I get it. Bye." You waved them off and stayed on the sidewalk till their old beat up grey car pulled away from the university.

Sighing, you rolled your shoulders back, grabbed all your things and walked the 10 minutes all the way to your side of the dorms. Personally, you had no clue who your roommate was besides their name but you knew even if you got a wild one you wouldn't change rooms. It didn't matter to you wether or not your roommate had purple hair, while your parents and nearly everyone in life tended to stick their nose in the business of others, you had no care in the world about anybody else.

From the moment you stepped into your new room, your nostrils were immediately being wrapped in by the smell of vanilla and incense. You looked around the room and noticed that only half of it was done up while the other was plain and void of any decoration.

"Hello, who are you?" A soft voice asked politely and there in front of you stood one of the prettiest girls you'd ever seen. She was a short young woman with long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose and relaxed dark eyes.

"Oh sorry! I'm your new roommate, you're Pieck Finger, right?" You greeted her, shaking her surprisingly soft hands and placing your bags down on the floor next to you.

"Sorry about the smell, I'm lighting some incense to cleanse the new room. I just got here last night."

"Mhm, are you religious?" You asked, pointing to the black leather notebook in her hand. She looked down at it but smiled and shook her head.

"Ah no, I'm Agnostic. Although my childhood friend practices Hinduism and I guess I pick up on some things." She explained, you nodded at her words and made a mental note to ask her what the hell agnostic meant at a later time. Her eyes went down to the bags in your hand and reached out to grab your suitcase.

"Here I got this, I'll put this on your side of the bed and let me know if I can help with setting anything up." She offered kindly, you nodded at her offer and the two of you immediately got to work.

As you folded your clothes into a drawer and hung them up in a closet and Pieck finished wrapping your bed in it's covers and blankets, the two of you talked. Talked as if you'd been friends since birth. Pieck felt like someone you could truly se yourself being friends with in the long run of college, she was also someone your parents would most likely accept and allow you to stay with. The two of you bonded over certain interests, Pieck had a knack for writing — poems, full books, it didn't matter; you were the artistic one. Always doodling on something or recreating famous art paintings in your room, usually religious paintings as your parents always told you that if you were going to have painting as a hobby you might as well paint something useful.

"Finally, we're done." You sighed, exhaustedly throwing yourself onto the newly made bed. Pieck chuckled and stood up, grabbing her belongings and putting them into a small book bag.

"Hey, me and my friends are meeting in the library later, would you like to come?" She asked, you mulled over the idea for a quick second and nodded your head.

The walk from your dorm and the library gave you and Pieck even more time to get to know each other. She explained how most people from her old high school had come to the nearest college, it being this one which is why she never worried about not making any friends. Your eyes nearly popped out of your eye socket as you stepped up to the large library building, it being much bigger than any library your town had to offer. Pieck held the door open for you as you stepped in and took a moment to admire the large area.

"Psst, Pieck!" Whispered a voice, you looked over to see a brown haired woman in big round glasses waving the two of you over with a wide grin on her face. Pieck waved back and walked over the round table with the two other people sitting and you following behind her.

"Hey guys, this is my new roommate. This is—"

"Hange Zoë, nice to meet you!" The glasses wearing woman exclaimed excitedly taking your hand in her and shaking it vigorously. A nearby librarian glared her way and hushed her, she smiled and apologized to the old woman.

"I'm Porco." Replied the blonde boy on the other side of the table dryly.

You waved at him awkwardly and sat down next to Pieck, yet it was only after they began pulling out their books did you realize you had nothing with you. Tapping the dark haired girl on the shoulder, you motioned towards the bookshelf's and stood up to leave once Pieck nodded her head.

You walked around aimlessly with no true destination or book in mind till you came across a bookshelf, this one different than the others and tucked away in a little corner. It was old and basic but it still had integrity. The wood was straight and it hugged the wall. On closer inspection you could see scratches, the wood a little more pale where it had been dinged. You touched the roughness, not minding one bit and looked at the books inside. The fiction section had always been your favorite growing up, your parents believed books like Harry Potter were some sort of books that demonic and plaguing words hidden within them so you only ever grew up reading them in short amounts of time in the library before they could find you.

A small gasp made its way up your throat as your eyes landed across a book titled Alice in Wonderland, one of your top favorites. The ladder that usually came along with each bookshelf was currently being occupied yet this specific bookshelf seemed to take up nearly the entire wall of the library — this might've been one of the first things you couldn't successfully grab with ease. You reached your hand up to grab the book, your fingertips only slightly touching them before the book suddenly disappeared from your grasp and a warm presence creeped up behind you, towering over your frame.

Looking up, your eyes met a pair deep dark eyes staring down at you, the book now forgotten in your mind as it was now clouded with the face of the person in front of you. It was only after a couple seconds that you blinked out of your trance and stepped back, falling straight between the bookshelf and the person. You felt...intimidated. The person in front of you was more than taller than you, a height you thought was nearly impossible. They tilted their head to the side, bent down a bit and held the book out in their hand as your eyes stayed trained on theirs.

"Do you want it?" They asked, you nearly jumped in your skin at the sound of their somewhat deep voice.

"Huh?"

"The book." You looked down and finally registered the fact that they'd picked up the book you were grabbing at and now held it out to you.

"O-oh right, thank you." You stuttered, mentally cursing yourself for acting this way. While your eyes strayed away from theirs, they went downward to the person's appearance.

They wore a dark green turtleneck sweater paired with high waisted black pants, accentuating their long legs and black lace up Oxford shoes — their entire appearance intimidated you. The center of their nose pierced through with silver piece of jewelry.

"I..." you regretted opening your mouth the second the words came out, "gotta go," the words spilled out of your mouth as you immediately walked around them and towards your table, the interaction still replaying in your head on loop. It wasn't until you rapidly sat yourself down next to Pieck that you felt like you could breath.

You weren't the most social person in the world but you also weren't the most nervous, but they...their presence, their height, the look in their eyes, it all seemed to send you into frenzy. Ignoring the slightly worried look you got from Pieck, you open the notebook given to you and tried to let the interaction seep away into your memories. Yet it didn't work. Every word on the paper seemed to fly over your head, your mind never sticking to the sentences given to you. Hell, you could barley read about Alice's shitty life without comparing it to what had just occurred. It was all too fresh. Too new. Too...interesting.

"Mornin' Pieck." Greeted a deep voice from behind you, turning around you were faced with a tall blonde haired man with small circle glasses resting on his nose.

"Good mornin, Zeke." Pieck responded kindly, the man looked around the table greeting everyone till his eyes met yours.

"I don't think I've met you before, and who must you be?" He bowed down respectfully and held out his hand, you looked at it confused for a second before sliding your hand into his and watching as he leaned his head down to plant a kiss at the back of your hand.

Before you could protest, a different hand gripped Zeke's shoulder, he pulled away and turned around to find his female companion standing above him with a blank expression on her face — one he'd gotten used to over the course of their friendship. Meanwhile your breath was caught in your throat at the sight of the intimidating person you'd met only moments before.

"Your book, Zeke." They said plainly, Zeke pulled away from you and took the textbook of their hands, thanking them and skimming through the textbook as both of your eyes never left theirs.

"Good morning, Yelena." Pieck greeted her with a smile, finally, Yelena's eyes drifted away from yours and were now on Pieck, the sides of her lips quirking up into a smirk for a second.

"Good morning, Pieck." Your eyes went back and forth between them in confusion until another person popped up behind Zeke.

"Hey guys, hey hange, Pieck." The dark haired man bun wearing boy said, leaning his arm against Zeke's shoulder despite them being the same height.

"Guess I'm just invisible then" spoke up Porco with an offended look on his face, the dark haired boy simply looked at him and blinked.

"Oh no I knew you were there, I just don't care. Anyways, are you guys coming to my big party tonight?" He asked excitedly, Zeke scoffed and pushed his glasses further up his face.

"Tch, we're not children, Eren. Why would we go to some teenage party?" Eren scoffed at the blonde mans response.

"Yeah obviously not you, old man, you're fucking ancient. I was talking to Pieck and..." he looked at you with a confused expression before shrugging and pointing at you, "and her."

"I'm not even that old—"

"Sorry, Eren but you already know my answer." She apologized, Eren pouted and groaned.

"Oh come on, please, Pieck? The last time you went everybody loved you, please?" He begged Pieck, placing his hands on her arm that was leaned against the wooden chair she sat at.

"Aw sorry, kid. I love them all too but I gotta tutoring session today." She apologized sympathetically, patting the boys head and turning to you, "what about you?"

You jumped at the sudden spotlight on you but shook your head regardless, "If Pieck's not going then neither am I." Eren groaned again and tried puppy dog eyes on the long haired woman in front of him.

"Look Pieck, you're deriving your new friend here with the experience of a fun college party." She smiled at his explanation which apparently told Eren enough that he stopped bugging her and stood up to his full height, slamming his shoulder into Zeke's as he walked away and mumbled something under his breath. Zeke almost turned around to go after him until Yelena outstretched her arm to stop him.

"He's a child." She pointed out

"He's a little shit, is what he is." Zeke complained, you looked over at Hange for information.

"They're brothers." She stated, your mouth made an o shape as you finally came to understand why the two seemed to have so much beef between them.

"Half brothers, Hange. Don't associate me with that brat." Zeke huffed, everyone chuckling at the mans clear discomfort with him and Eren being in the same room let alone sentence. "Anyways, we've gotta go, me and Yelena have business to take care of." Zeke said.

"Jeez, you make it sound like the two of you are hooking up." Porco mentioned with a disgusted look on his face,

"What if we are?" He joked playfully until he looked up to see Yelena towering over him with a straight look on her face, Zeke cleared his throat and shook his head, "Kidding, kidding."

The two of them walked out of the library and the three other people at your table continued on their reading while your mind was racked with a bunch of questions of the new characters you just met. You tried to avoid eye contact with Yelena when she was leaving but could still feel her piercing gaze stay onto you until she couldn't anymore.

"So are they?" You inquired with a whisper, leaning over Pieck's shoulder

"Are they what?"

"Zeke and Yelena. Are they..." you raised your eyebrows as the words clicked in Pieck's mind and the other two at the table began laughing into their books.

"No, sweetie, they're not sleeping together or dating." She denied

"Pfft, the day we see Yelena with a man is the day pigs fly." Chuckled Porco, you looked at them confused at their jokes.

"Yelena's a lesbian, babe." Pieck finished your thought and your eyes slightly widened at her response, not expecting it. Embarrassment silently creeped into your mind as you groaned and tucked your head into your arms.

"Well now I feel stupid." The three of them laughed and Pieck rubbed your back.

For some reason, those words felt like a small weight lifted off your shoulders. You couldn't understand why you felt so...happy that she wasn't with Zeke in that way. Maybe you just wanted to her friend. Yeah....that had to be it....her friend.

#yelena #yelena aot #attack on titan #pieck x y/n #pieck finger #pieck x yelena #hange zoë #porco x reader #snk season 4 #eren yeager #zeke yeager

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thehauntologicalsociety · 3 years ago

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Street Haunting: A London Adventure by Virginia Woolf

No one perhaps has ever felt passionately towards a lead pencil. But there are circumstances in which it can become supremely desirable to possess one; moments when we are set upon having an object, an excuse for walking half across London between tea and dinner. As the foxhunter hunts in order to preserve the breed of foxes, and the golfer plays in order that open spaces may be preserved from the builders, so when the desire comes upon us to go street rambling the pencil does for a pretext, and getting up we say: "Really I must buy a pencil," as if under cover of this excuse we could indulge safely in the greatest pleasure of town life in winter--rambling the streets of London.

The hour should be the evening and the season winter, for in winter the champagne brightness of the air and the sociability of the streets are grateful. We are not then taunted as in the summer by the longing for shade and solitude and sweet airs from the hayfields. The evening hour, too, gives us the irresponsibility which darkness and lamplight bestow. We are no longer quite ourselves. As we step out of the house on a fine evening between four and six, we shed the self our friends know us by and become part of that vast republican army of anonymous trampers, whose society is so agreeable after the solitude of one's own room. For there we sit surrounded by objects which perpetually express the oddity of our own temperaments and enforce the memories of our own experience. That bowl on the mantelpiece, for instance, was bought at Mantua on a windy day. We were leaving the shop when the sinister old woman plucked at our skirts and said she would find herself starving one of these days, but, "Take it!" she cried, and thrust the blue and white china bowl into our hands as if she never wanted to be reminded of her quixotic generosity. So, guiltily, but suspecting nevertheless how badly we had been fleeced, we carried it back to the little hotel where, in the middle of the night, the innkeeper quarrelled so violently with his wife that we all leant out into the courtyard to look, and saw the vines laced about among the pillars and the stars white in the sky. The moment was stabilized, stamped like a coin indelibly among a million that slipped by imperceptibly. There, too, was the melancholy Englishman, who rose among the coffee cups and the little iron tables and revealed the secrets of his soul--as travellers do. All this--Italy, the windy morning, the vines laced about the pillars, the Englishman and the secrets of his soul--rise up in a cloud from the china bowl on the mantelpiece. And there, as our eyes fall to the floor, is that brown stain on the carpet. Mr. Lloyd George made that. "The man's a devil!" said Mr. Cummings, putting the kettle down with which he was about to fill the teapot so that it burnt a brown ring on the carpet.

But when the door shuts on us, all that vanishes. The shell-like covering which our souls have excreted to house themselves, to make for themselves a shape distinct from others, is broken, and there is left of all these wrinkles and roughnesses a central oyster of perceptiveness, an enormous eye. How beautiful a street is in winter! It is at once revealed and obscured. Here vaguely one can trace symmetrical straight avenues of doors and windows; here under the lamps are floating islands of pale light through which pass quickly bright men and women, who, for all their poverty and shabbiness, wear a certain look of unreality, an air of triumph, as if they had given life the slip, so that life, deceived of her prey, blunders on without them. But, after all, we are only gliding smoothly on the surface. The eye is not a miner, not a diver, not a seeker after buried treasure. It floats us smoothly down a stream; resting, pausing, the brain sleeps perhaps as it looks.

How beautiful a London street is then, with its islands of light, and its long groves of darkness, and on one side of it perhaps some tree-sprinkled, grass-grown space where night is folding herself to sleep naturally and, as one passes the iron railing, one hears those little cracklings and stirrings of leaf and twig which seem to suppose the silence of fields all round them, an owl hooting, and far away the rattle of a train in the valley. But this is London, we are reminded; high among the bare trees are hung oblong frames of reddish yellow light--windows; there are points of brilliance burning steadily like low stars--lamps; this empty ground, which holds the country in it and its peace, is only a London square, set about by offices and houses where at this hour fierce lights burn over maps, over documents, over desks where clerks sit turning with wetted forefinger the files of endless correspondences; or more suffusedly the firelight wavers and the lamplight falls upon the privacy of some drawing-room, its easy chairs, its papers, its china, its inlaid table, and the figure of a woman, accurately measuring out the precise number of spoons of tea which----She looks at the door as if she heard a ring downstairs and somebody asking, is she in?

But here we must stop peremptorily. We are in danger of digging deeper than the eye approves; we are impeding our passage down the smooth stream by catching at some branch or root. At any moment, the sleeping army may stir itself and wake in us a thousand violins and trumpets in response; the army of human beings may rouse itself and assert all its oddities and sufferings and sordidities. Let us dally a little longer, be content still with surfaces only--the glossy brilliance of the motor omnibuses; the carnal splendour of the butchers' shops with their yellow flanks and purple steaks; the blue and red bunches of flowers burning so bravely through the plate glass of the florists' windows.

For the eye has this strange property: it rests only on beauty; like a butterfly it seeks colour and basks in warmth. On a winter's night like this, when nature has been at pains to polish and preen herself, it brings back the prettiest trophies, breaks off little lumps of emerald and coral as if the whole earth were made of precious stone. The thing it cannot do (one is speaking of the average unprofessional eye) is to compose these trophies in such a way as to bring out the more obscure angles and relationships. Hence after a prolonged diet of this simple, sugary fare, of beauty pure and uncomposed, we become conscious of satiety. We halt at the door of the boot shop and make some little excuse, which has nothing to do with the real reason, for folding up the bright paraphernalia of the streets and withdrawing to some duskier chamber of the being where we may ask, as we raise our left foot obediently upon the stand: "What, then, is it like to be a dwarf?"

She came in escorted by two women who, being of normal size, looked like benevolent giants beside her. Smiling at the shop girls, they seemed to be disclaiming any lot in her deformity and assuring her of their protection. She wore the peevish yet apologetic expression usual on the faces of the deformed. She needed their kindness, yet she resented it. But when the shop girl had been summoned and the giantesses, smiling indulgently, had asked for shoes for "this lady" and the girl had pushed the little stand in front of her, the dwarf stuck her foot out with an impetuosity which seemed to claim all our attention. Look at that! Look at that! she seemed to demand of us all, as she thrust her foot out, for behold it was the shapely, perfectly proportioned foot of a well-grown woman. It was arched; it was aristocratic. Her whole manner changed as she looked at it resting on the stand. She looked soothed and satisfied. Her manner became full of self-confidence. She sent for shoe after shoe; she tried on pair after pair. She got up and pirouetted before a glass which reflected the foot only in yellow shoes, in fawn shoes, in shoes of lizard skin. She raised her little skirts and displayed her little legs. She was thinking that, after all, feet are the most important part of the whole person; women, she said to herself, have been loved for their feet alone. Seeing nothing but her feet, she imagined perhaps that the rest of her body was of a piece with those beautiful feet. She was shabbily dressed, but she was ready to lavish any money upon her shoes. And as this was the only occasion upon which she was hot afraid of being looked at but positively craved attention, she was ready to use any device to prolong the choosing and fitting. Look at my feet, she seemed to be saying, as she took a step this way and then a step that way. The shop girl good-humouredly must have said something flattering, for suddenly her face lit up in ecstasy. But, after all, the giantesses, benevolent though they were, had their own affairs to see to; she must make up her mind; she must decide which to choose. At length, the pair was chosen and, as she walked out between her guardians, with the parcel swinging from her finger, the ecstasy faded, knowledge returned, the old peevishness, the old apology came back, and by the time she had reached the street again she had become a dwarf only.

But she had changed the mood; she had called into being an atmosphere which, as we followed her out into the street, seemed actually to create the humped, the twisted, the deformed. Two bearded men, brothers, apparently, stone-blind, supporting themselves by resting a hand on the head of a small boy between them, marched down the street. On they came with the unyielding yet tremulous tread of the blind, which seems to lend to their approach something of the terror and inevitability of the fate that has overtaken them. As they passed, holding straight on, the little convoy seemed to cleave asunder the passers-by with the momentum of its silence, its directness, its disaster. Indeed, the dwarf had started a hobbling grotesque dance to which everybody in the street now conformed: the stout lady tightly swathed in shiny sealskin; the feeble-minded boy sucking the silver knob of his stick; the old man squatted on a doorstep as if, suddenly overcome by the absurdity of the human spectacle, he had sat down to look at it--all joined in the hobble and tap of the dwarf's dance.

In what crevices and crannies, one might ask, did they lodge, this maimed company of the halt and the blind? Here, perhaps, in the top rooms of these narrow old houses between Holborn and Soho, where people have such queer names, and pursue so many curious trades, are gold beaters, accordion pleaters, cover buttons, or support life, with even greater fantasticality, upon a traffic in cups without saucers, china umbrella handles, and highly-coloured pictures of martyred saints. There they lodge, and it seems as if the lady in the sealskin jacket must find life tolerable, passing the time of day with the accordion pleater, or the man who covers buttons; life which is so fantastic cannot be altogether tragic. They do not grudge us, we are musing, our prosperity; when, suddenly, turning the corner, we come upon a bearded Jew, wild, hunger-bitten, glaring out of his misery; or pass the humped body of an old woman flung abandoned on the step of a public building with a cloak over her like the hasty covering thrown over a dead horse or donkey. At such sights the nerves of the spine seem to stand erect; a sudden flare is brandished in our eyes; a question is asked which is never answered. Often enough these derelicts choose to lie not a stone's throw from theatres, within hearing of barrel organs, almost, as night draws on, within touch of the sequined cloaks and bright legs of diners and dancers. They lie close to those shop windows where commerce offers to a world of old women laid on doorsteps, of blind men, of hobbling dwarfs, sofas which are supported by the gilt necks of proud swans; tables inlaid with baskets of many coloured fruit; sideboards paved with green marble the better to support the weight of boars' heads; and carpets so softened with age that their carnations have almost vanished in a pale green sea.

Passing, glimpsing, everything seems accidentally but miraculously sprinkled with beauty, as if the tide of trade which deposits its burden so punctually and prosaically upon the shores of Oxford Street had this night cast up nothing but treasure. With no thought of buying, the eye is sportive and generous; it creates; it adorns; it enhances. Standing out in the street, one may build up all the chambers of an imaginary house and furnish them at one's will with sofa, table, carpet. That rug will do for the hall. That alabaster bowl shall stand on a carved table in the window. Our merrymaking shall be reflected in that thick round mirror. But, having built and furnished the house, one is happily under no obligation to possess it; one can dismantle it in the twinkling of an eye, and build and furnish another house with other chairs and other glasses. Or let us indulge ourselves at the antique jewellers, among the trays of rings and the hanging necklaces. Let us choose those pearls, for example, and then imagine how, if we put them on, life would be changed. It becomes instantly between two and three in the morning; the lamps are burning very white in the deserted streets of Mayfair. Only motor-cars are abroad at this hour, and one has a sense of emptiness, of airiness, of secluded gaiety. Wearing pearls, wearing silk, one steps out onto a balcony which overlooks the gardens of sleeping Mayfair. There are a few lights in the bedrooms of great peers returned from Court, of silk-stockinged footmen, of dowagers who have pressed the hands of statesmen. A cat creeps along the garden wall. Love-making is going on sibilantly, seductively in the darker places of the room behind thick green curtains. Strolling sedately as if he were promenading a terrace beneath which the shires and counties of England lie sun-bathed, the aged Prime Minister recounts to Lady So-and-So with the curls and the emeralds the true history of some great crisis in the affairs of the land. We seem to be riding on the top of the highest mast of the tallest ship; and yet at the same time we know that nothing of this sort matters; love is not proved thus, nor great achievements completed thus; so that we sport with the moment and preen our feathers in it lightly, as we stand on the balcony watching the moonlit cat creep along Princess Mary's garden wall.

But what could be more absurd? It is, in fact, on the stroke of six; it is a winter's evening; we are walking to the Strand to buy a pencil. How, then, are we also on a balcony, wearing pearls in June? What could be more absurd? Yet it is nature's folly, not ours. When she set about her chief masterpiece, the making of man, she should have thought of one thing only. Instead, turning her head, looking over her shoulder, into each one of us she let creep instincts and desires which are utterly at variance with his main being, so that we are streaked, variegated, all of a mixture; the colours have run. Is the true self this which stands on the pavement in January, or that which bends over the balcony in June? Am I here, or am I there? Or is the true self neither this nor that, neither here nor there, but something so varied and wandering that it is only when we give the rein to its wishes and let it take its way unimpeded that we are indeed ourselves? Circumstances compel unity; for convenience sake a man must be a whole. The good citizen when he opens his door in the evening must be banker, golfer, husband, father; not a nomad wandering the desert, a mystic staring at the sky, a debauchee in the slums of San Francisco, a soldier heading a revolution, a pariah howling with scepticism and solitude. When he opens his door, he must run his fingers through his hair and put his umbrella in the stand like the rest.

But here, none too soon, are the second-hand bookshops. Here we find anchorage in these thwarting currents of being; here we balance ourselves after the splendours and miseries of the streets. The very sight of the bookseller's wife with her foot on the fender, sitting beside a good coal fire, screened from the door, is sobering and cheerful. She is never reading, or only the newspaper; her talk, when it leaves bookselling, which it does so gladly, is about hats; she likes a hat to be practical, she says, as well as pretty. 0 no, they don't live at the shop; they live in Brixton; she must have a bit of green to look at. In summer a jar of flowers grown in her own garden is stood on the top of some dusty pile to enliven the shop. Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world. There is always a hope, as we reach down some grayish-white book from an upper shelf, directed by its air of shabbiness and desertion, of meeting here with a man who set out on horseback over a hundred years ago to explore the woollen market in the Midlands and Wales; an unknown traveller, who stayed at inns, drank his pint, noted pretty girls and serious customs, wrote it all down stiffly, laboriously for sheer love of it (the book was published at his own expense); was infinitely prosy, busy, and matter-of-fact, and so let flow in without his knowing it the very scent of hollyhocks and the hay together with such a portrait of himself as gives him forever a seat in the warm corner of the mind's inglenook. One may buy him for eighteen pence now. He is marked three and sixpence, but the bookseller's wife, seeing how shabby the covers are and how long the book has stood there since it was bought at some sale of a gentleman's library in Suffolk, will let it go at that.

Thus, glancing round the bookshop, we make other such sudden capricious friendships with the unknown and the vanished whose only record is, for example, this little book of poems, so fairly printed, so finely engraved, too, with a portrait of the author. For he was a poet and drowned untimely, and his verse, mild as it is and formal and sententious, sends forth still a frail fluty sound like that of a piano organ played in some back street resignedly by an old Italian organ-grinder in a corduroy jacket. There are travellers, too, row upon row of them, still testifying, indomitable spinsters that they were, to the discomforts that they endured and the sunsets they admired in Greece when Queen Victoria was a girl. A tour in Cornwall with a visit to the tin mines was thought worthy of voluminous record. People went slowly up the Rhine and did portraits of each other in Indian ink, sitting reading on deck beside a coil of rope; they measured the pyramids; were lost to civilization for years; converted negroes in pestilential swamps. This packing up and going off, exploring deserts and catching fevers, settling in India for a lifetime, penetrating even to China and then returning to lead a parochial life at Edmonton, tumbles and tosses upon the dusty floor like an uneasy sea, so restless the English are, with the waves at their very door. The waters of travel and adventure seem to break upon little islands of serious effort and lifelong industry stood in jagged column upon the floor. In these piles of puce-bound volumes with gilt monograms on the back, thoughtful clergymen expound the gospels; scholars are to be heard with their hammers and their chisels chipping clear the ancient texts of Euripides and Aeschylus. Thinking, annotating, expounding goes on at a prodigious rate all around us and over everything, like a punctual, everlasting tide, washes the ancient sea of fiction. Innumerable volumes tell how Arthur loved Laura and they were separated and they were unhappy and then they met and they were happy ever after, as was the way when Victoria ruled these islands.

The number of books in the world is infinite, and one is forced to glimpse and nod and move on after a moment of talk, a flash of understanding, as, in the street outside, one catches a word in passing and from a chance phrase fabricates a lifetime. It is about a woman called Kate that they are talking, how "I said to her quite straight last night . . . if you don't think I'm worth a penny stamp, I said . . ." But who Kate is, and to what crisis in their friendship that penny stamp refers, we shall never know; for Kate sinks under the warmth of their volubility; and here, at the street corner, another page of the volume of life is laid open by the sight of two men consulting under the lamp-post. They are spelling out the latest wire from Newmarket in the stop press news. Do they think, then, that fortune will ever convert their rags into fur and broadcloth, sling them with watch-chains, and plant diamond pins where there is now a ragged open shirt? But the main stream of walkers at this hour sweeps too fast to let us ask such questions. They are wrapt, in this short passage from work to home, in some narcotic dream, now that they are free from the desk, and have the fresh air on their cheeks. They put on those bright clothes which they must hang up and lock the key upon all the rest of the day, and are great cricketers, famous actresses, soldiers who have saved their country at the hour of need. Dreaming, gesticulating, often muttering a few words aloud, they sweep over the Strand and across Waterloo Bridge whence they will be slung in long rattling trains, to some prim little villa in Barnes or Surbiton where the sight of the clock in the hall and the smell of the supper in the basement puncture the dream.

But we have come to the Strand now, and as we hesitate on the curb, a little rod about the length of one's finger begins to lay its bar across the velocity and abundance of life. "Really I must--really I must"--that is it. Without investigating the demand, the mind cringes to the accustomed tyrant. One must, one always must, do something or other; it is not allowed one simply to enjoy oneself. Was it not for this reason that, some time ago, we fabricated the excuse, and invented the necessity of buying something? But what was it? Ah, we remember, it was a pencil. Let us go then and buy this pencil. But just as we are turning to obey the command, another self disputes the right of the tyrant to insist. The usual conflict comes about. Spread out behind the rod of duty we see the whole breadth of the river Thames--wide, mournful, peaceful. And we see it through the eyes of somebody who is leaning over the Embankment on a summer evening, without a care in the world. Let us put off buying the pencil; let us go in search of this person--and soon it becomes apparent that this person is ourselves. For if we could stand there where we stood six months ago, should we not be again as we were then--calm, aloof, content? Let us try then. But the river is rougher and greyer than we remembered. The tide is running out to sea. It brings down with it a tug and two barges, whose load of straw is tightly bound down beneath tarpaulin covers. There is, too, close by us, a couple leaning over the balustrade with the curious lack of self-consciousness lovers have, as if the importance of the affair they are engaged on claims without question the indulgence of the human race. The sights we see and the sounds we hear now have none of the quality of the past; nor have we any share in the serenity of the person who, six months ago, stood precisely where we stand now. His is the happiness of death; ours the insecurity of life. He has no future; the future is even now invading our peace. It is only when we look at the past and take from it the element of uncertainty that we can enjoy perfect peace. As it is, we must turn, we must cross the Strand again, we must find a shop where, even at this hour, they will be ready to sell us a pencil.

It is always an adventure to enter a new room for the lives and characters of its owners have distilled their atmosphere into it, and directly we enter it we breast some new wave of emotion. Here, without a doubt, in the stationer's shop people had been quarrelling. Their anger shot through the air. They both stopped; the old woman--they were husband and wife evidently--retired to a back room; the old man whose rounded forehead and globular eyes would have looked well on the frontispiece of some Elizabethan folio, stayed to serve us. "A pencil, a pencil," he repeated, "certainly, certainly." He spoke with the distraction yet effusiveness of one whose emotions have been roused and checked in full flood. He began opening box after box and shutting them again. He said that it was very difficult to find things when they kept so many different articles. He launched into a story about some legal gentleman who had got into deep waters owing to the conduct of his wife. He had known him for years; he had been connected with the Temple for half a century, he said, as if he wished his wife in the back room to overhear him. He upset a box of rubber bands. At last, exasperated by his incompetence, he pushed the swing door open and called out roughly: "Where d'you keep the pencils?" as if his wife had hidden them. The old lady came in. Looking at nobody, she put her hand with a fine air of righteous severity upon the right box. There were pencils. How then could he do without her? Was she not indispensable to him? In order to keep them there, standing side by side in forced neutrality, one had to be particular in one's choice of pencils; this was too soft, that too hard. They stood silently looking on. The longer they stood there, the calmer they grew; their heat was going down, their anger disappearing. Now, without a word said on either side, the quarrel was made up. The old man, who would not have disgraced Ben Jonson's title-page, reached the box back to its proper place, bowed profoundly his good-night to us, and they disappeared. She would get out her sewing; he would read his newspaper; the canary would scatter them impartially with seed. The quarrel was over.

In these minutes in which a ghost has been sought for, a quarrel composed, and a pencil bought, the streets had become completely empty. Life had withdrawn to the top floor, and lamps were lit. The pavement was dry and hard; the road was of hammered silver. Walking home through the desolation one could tell oneself the story of the dwarf, of the blind men, of the party in the Mayfair mansion, of the quarrel in the stationer's shop. Into each of these lives one could penetrate a little way, far enough to give oneself the illusion that one is not tethered to a single mind, but can put on briefly for a few minutes the bodies and minds of others. One could become a washerwoman, a publican, a street singer. And what greater delight and wonder can there be than to leave the straight lines of personality and deviate into those footpaths that lead beneath brambles and thick tree trunks into the heart of the forest where live those wild beasts, our fellow men?

That is true: to escape is the greatest of pleasures; street haunting in winter the greatest of adventures. Still as we approach our own doorstep again, it is comforting to feel the old possessions, the old prejudices, fold us round; and the self, which has been blown about at so many street corners, which has battered like a moth at the flame of so many inaccessible lanterns, sheltered and enclosed. Here again is the usual door; here the chair turned as we left it and the china bowl and the brown ring on the carpet. And here--let us examine it tenderly, let us touch it with reverence--is the only spoil we have retrieved from all the treasures of the city, a lead pencil.

#Virginia Woolf #Street Haunting #A London Adventure #London #pencil #1927 #1930 #essay

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simsadventures · 5 years ago

Text

First Love

High School Dean x High School! Plus size! Reader

Summary: Dean is the mysterious and sexy boy of your high school. And you’re just, you. But what if the playboy’s eyes shine only for you? Can you trust him?

Warnings: High School AU, fluff, slight angst, mentions of bullying, smut, protected sex, car sex (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS)

Word Count: 3679

A/N: Both Dean and the reader are 18 for the sake of this story, so there is no underage sex nor anything like that (even though in most European countries the age of consent is around 15, I didn’t want to make anybody uncomfortable). Also changed the request slightly, because I didn’t think she would let him have her virginity just like that, so they both have some, although limited, experience.

This story was requested by my sweet @prettysourabbie, and I hope both she and you guys will enjoy this fluffy smuttiness. FEEDBACK is gold, you know the drill. Thank you for reading! xx Full request here: Hey beautiful! I saw that you have open request! Yayyy you are a bop of a writer! Can I request a High school Dean Winchester x high school plus size reader, where the reader is Garth younger sister and she really quirky and shy and dean starts catching feelings and takes her on a date and takes her virginity?? Fluff, smut, dorkyness haha I’m sorry this is so awkward turtle! ☺️💕🤘🏻

Dean Winchester Masterlist __ Masterlist

You heard whistles from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother to turn around. You knew the drill. Whenever somebody catcalled or whistled near you, it was never actually at you. It was either at one of your hot friends or some random chick walking down the corridors or streets. Not that you specifically minded. You weren’t a pet to come when somebody whistled. But, you thought, it would be nice if somebody actually found you attractive enough to show it.

Your ex-boyfriend, Max, was a great guy behind closed doors, he would adore you, braid your hair, play games with you, and such, but as soon as his friends were around him, he would act as if he didn’t know you. It broke your heart, and after a few weeks of suffering, you ended things with him.

Max acted all surprised, telling you that you were the best girl he’s met, but that was until one of his best friends called at him in front of the school, and Max ran towards them as if he wasn’t in the middle of a sentence. You knew you were better off without him, but it still stung.

The whistles could be heard again, and you sighed in frustration. You turned around from the book you were just reading, The Rise of Silas Lapham by William Dean Howells, and looked at the boy who was whistling like crazy.

Dean fracking Winchester.

He had a smirk plastered on his face, and when you finally turned around to face him, he wiggled his eyebrows and sent you an air-kiss. You looked around yourself, confused because Dean Winchester couldn’t be doing this at you. No fucking way.

But when you saw there was no girl in a 3-meter radius, you turned back at him, your brows high up on your forehead.

“That some kind of bet?” You hissed at him, not really wanting the other students around you to hear your conversation. You didn’t need to be embarrassed in front of the whole school. Again.

It was Dean’s turn to raise a brow.

“A bet, what are you getting at, doll? I thought you looked cute so I whistled. Easy as that,” Dean shrugged, and you rolled your eyes at him, before you shut your book with a thud, swiftly put it in your bag and walked towards Dean.

“First of all, catcalling doesn’t work on anyone, so you should maybe get up next time and actually tell a girl you like her. And secondly, we both know that a boy like you would never be interested in a girl like me, so stop pretending and stop being a dick. T’was nice talking to you, Dean, see you at class,” you mumbled as you stormed out of the study room.

Dean watched you leave, confused as hell as to why you’d think he was joking or playing some kind of games. You were the most real person at the school, and beautiful on top of that. Well, if catcalling wasn’t enough, Dean promised himself to think of something better to let you know just how interested in you he really was.

—-

Coming home, you slammed the door and huffed out a breath, falling on the nearest chair. You brother came out of his room hearing somebody was home, and when he saw you, he frowned.

“What happened to you?” Garth asked, worriedly watching your face.

“Nothing, it’s just… Why did nature give you such metabolism that you can eat a fucking country, and you still won’t gain an ounce, while I look at a pizza and I’m five pounds heavier? It’s just not fair, that’s all I’m saying. Maybe if I was thinner, boys would actually be interested in me and not just as a part of a bet,” you murmured under your breath, keeping your gaze glued to the pillow on your chest.

“Some fucker is playing games with you? Tell me which and I’ll beat the shit out of him, that’s why I’m your big bro!” Garth almost shouted, and you had to smile a little. He would always protect you, even though you were pretty sure you would be more successful in taking somebody down than Garth.

You still smiled up at your big brother and shook your head at him.

“I’m fine, Garth, trust me. Just a few more months and then I’m outta here. Brown is waiting and with that lots of new opportunities. I won’t have to hide anymore, because I’ll find real friends there, some that won’t judge me because I read too much or because I’m sometimes emotionally unavailable. Or because they think I’m fat. None of this will matter, and I seriously cannot wait to get out of this shithole and get the party started,” you laughed, and Garth joined you, sitting on the arm of the chair, kissing your hair.

“You’ll do great there, Y/N. And you’re not fat, you’re a woman. You know, I think the world needs more girls like you, not starving themselves just for some boys to like them. You are you, and I love you for it, and soon, there will be a guy who will love you unconditionally, I promise you that,” he whispered against the crown of your head and walked out fo the living room back to his den.

You sighed and stood up, walking towards the mirror on the wall, staring at yourself. You could see a lot of imperfections, sure, but you also saw a beautiful human being, and you knew that while here, at the small town high-school in the middle of Kansas, you were misplaced entirely, you would fit right in Rhode Island.

—-

Next day at school was going typically, you were smart in classes and alone in the hallways right to the lunch, where you once again sat by yourself. But you didn’t mind it, you could at least read your book and not be bothered by some petty drama, like which pink was more pink of the two pinks. You couldn’t roll your eyes harder even if you tried, hearing that conversation coming from behind you.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in front of you, and while you didn’t really care what happened, you still looked up aware that if somebody was fighting (which was very likely, considering the amount of testosterone coursing the young men blood systems) you wanted to be as far away as possible from that.

But looking up, you saw Dean Winchester, standing on one of the tables, looking around the room frantically, trying to find somebody. And then his eyes landed on you. He smirked and yelled.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I tried to do this yesterday, but you are one tough cookie, doll. So here I am, making a fool of myself in front of pretty much the whole school by yelling uncontrollably at somebody who is sooo not interested in me, but I gotta try anyway. Would you please, please go on a date with me? And before you say no, I just wanna warn you that I’m gonna stand here and yell until you actually agree on going out with me, so, please? Pretty please? Prettiest please?-“

You were pretty sure even your ass was red from the embarrassment, and to spare you at least some dignity, you just yelled a quick yes for god’s sake, and ran away from the room. What the hell was he thinking?

You got your answer pretty soon, because Dean followed you out of there, yelling your name as he ran.

“What?” You snapped at him when you were far enough from the canteen.

“Why do you keep doing this? I just wanna go out with you and spend some time with the most interesting girl in the whole town. Why do you keep pushing me away, Y/N?” Dean asked, and for a moment, you really believed the words he said. But then you remembered that while you were the one people laughed at, Dean was one of the most popular boys at school, with his charming smile and mysterious green eyes.

“Because I know you are making fun of me, Dean. Look, I know that a guy like you would never be interested in somebody like me, so I really don’t get what you’re getting out of this, you know?” You mumbled as you bit your lip, a habit you had whenever you were nervous.

Dean didn’t answer you, and when you looked at him, you saw him staring at your lip, licking his instinctively. Without another word, he swiped his thumb along your lips and freed the one you were biting, before he leaned in, and kissed you.

Your first reaction was to push him away, but the way his lips felt against yours, the velvety touch of skin on skin, and his hand finding its way to your waist, you couldn’t move. And a small part of you didn’t really want to walk away from that.

He didn’t deepen the kiss, he just stood there, kissing you, until you both needed some air.

You could feel yourself blushing, and before you knew it, you were biting your lips again. You could hear Dean growl before he whispered,

“If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, doll.”

You gasped looking deep into his eyes, and he leaned in again, this time only kissing your cheek before he gave you one of his famous smiles.

“I’ll pick you up at 7, alright, pretty girl?”

All you could do was nod, and he didn’t push you to talk, probably because he knew what effect he had on girls. You always heard from your classmates how he made them swoon, and until now, you didn’t really understand why. Sure, he was a pretty boy, but damn those lips, they were to die for.

The evening couldn’t come soon enough.

—-

While there was still a nagging voice in your mind, that Dean wasn’t in it honestly, you tried to look your prettiest just in case he actually did mean it. You wore light flowery dress reaching above your knees, you curled your hair and even applied some make-up to look presentable. You checked yourself in a mirror, and even you had to say you didn’t look the worst.

Garth has been fretting like a mama bear since both your parents were out of time and this was officially your first date after your break-up with Max. He assured you like a million times that you looked lovely and that any guy would be lucky to have you.

When you heard a knock on the door, you wanted to go and open, but Garth was faster. He skipped through the living room to let Dean in, giving him the “big brother speech”. You rolled your eyes at that because seeing that even though 2 years younger, Dean was indisputably stronger than your brother. Hell, even a 5-year old girl was probably stronger than your brother.

But Dean listened to Garth carefully, and when Garth hissed something to Dean’s ear, you could even see Dean’s eyes going a little wider and him nodding in understanding at your brother. That made you chuckle and to spare Dean any other trauma, you pulled him out of the house, yelling at Garth that you’d probably be late.

Dean grabbed your hand in his and pulled you towards a classic-looking car, all shiny and polished.

“This is my Baby, well, technically, it’s my father’s, but he promised that the second he gets a new car, Baby will be mine, so…”

You squeezed his hand, still looking at Baby.

“Well, she’s a beaut, I totally get why you wanna keep her,” you said admiring his car. In return, Dean admired you.

“Do you know that you’re the first girl who actually likes her? All the other girls always tell me that I should get something nicer and more out of this time. I knew you were special, Y/N,” he smirked at you before opening the door for you to get in.

The night was beautiful, and the more time the two of you spent together, the more things in common you found. Despite Dean acting like a tough guy at school, he was a dork, in reality. A huge dork at that. He would tell you dad jokes until your stomach hurt, he would tell you all about his favourite rock bands, the majority of which you’ve never even heard, singing you his favourite bits.

In return, you talked to him about your favourite things, such as reading and writing, your slight obsession with Disney and Marvel, which he said he totally understood and told you that your second date would be a movie marathon.

It was well after all that that he asked you something personal.

“Why did you think I was making fun of you, Y/N? I just can’t understand that. You’re so beautiful, and I honestly thought you were out of my league, that’s why I never asked you out. You’re so damn smart, hella funny, and so hot that I have hard times not creaming my pants just looking at you in that dress. I just, is somebody making fun of you, or something?” He sounded so genuine, and his voice was so broken that you had to smile at him.

You caressed his cheek before you kissed his cheek.

“I thought you were out of my league, you know? And yeah, I’ve been having some issues with the barbies of the school, but nothing I can’t handle. I just thought it was another of their stupid jokes on me, you know? But getting to know you, I really misjudged you, Dean, and I’m sorry for that,” you whispered to his ear, and he visibly shuddered.

You bit your lip and looked at him, this time doing it 100% on purpose. And the reaction you wanted to see came very soon.

Dean almost leapt out of his own seat in Baby, capturing your lips with his, kissing you senseless. You could feel his hand on your naked leg, just being there and massaging little circles into your skin.

He deepened the kiss, not giving you the chance to get away from him even if you wanted. And you enjoyed every second of his dominant personality.

You grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

When you both felt the need to breathe again, he only pulled an inch away from you, looking you deep in the eyes.

You could see it all in them. He looked at you like you were the only girl in this universe, and you believed him. You wanted him just as much as his lusty eyes wanted you.

You surprised him when you climbed out of your seat and opened the door to the backseat, laying on your back, and biting your lip, inviting Dean to join you.

His surprise didn’t last long, though. He couldn’t miss such an opportunity with the girl of his dreams, and he was glad there was a box of condoms hidden in the car. Not that he had that much experience, but his father made it very clear when Dean became 16, that a boy always needs condoms, just in case.

He jumped in the backseat behind you, his body laying on top of yours, and he claimed your lips again. There was more urgency this time, and while he was laying on top of you, trying to not crush you with this weight, you tugged at his clothes to finally get him naked.

It wasn’t like you’ve had too much experience in that area, but you knew what your body wanted, and you wouldn’t deprive it anymore. Not with Dean’s presence overwhelming your every sense.

He got the message, and so he was soon without a shirt, with his jeans around his ankles. He rolled your dress high, but before he could get past your stomach, you stopped his hand. He looked at you quizzically raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe, I should just leave the dress on tonight? You know, we don’t have to lose time by me getting all the way naked, and all,” you said, not looking at Dean.

He frowned at you before he took your chin between his fingers and he turned your head to face him.

“Don’t hide from me, Y/N. You’re beautiful, and I’m gonna prove it to you. And not only tonight. I wish our first time wasn’t in a car, because I can’t show you just how much I appreciate you and your body here, but I promise, next time I’ll devour all of your like I should because you’re the best girl. My girl,” Dean husked and bit your shoulder to prove his point.

And you didn’t protest anymore because his honest eyes wouldn’t let you.

Warnings: smut starting

Your dress went flying to the front of the car, just like your bra and your panties, and although you had the need to hide from Dean’s prying eyes, you didn’t want to ruin the moment. So you just laid there, palming his growing erection, and when you thought it couldn’t get any hotter, Dean dived in on your chest, sucking one of your nipples in his mouth, moaning as he went.

You arched your back, the pleasure overwhelming you, especially when you felt his right hand travelling further down your body until he found your wet core. He groaned at the feeling of your slick on his fingers, and he started to tease your clit, preparing you for him.

You managed to pull his member out of his boxer-briefs, gasping at the girth of him. Where you thought Max was pretty well equipped, Dean was packing, a lot. It was like comparing a sausage with an arm. For a second, you were worried how he’d even fit, but the longer he played with your pussy, the fewer worries you had. Your brain was turning into mush, and you were enjoying every second of it.

Dean’s fingers pushed inside you, and you breathed out a low moan. Dean was breathing heavily, your soft hand on your dick was not helping his current situation. When you squeezed him especially hard, he moaned and bit your neck, licking it after, and sucking a hickey there, to show everybody you were his. Because there was no way in hell, he would let you get away after this.

“You want this, sweetheart? We can stop right now, no shame in that. I want you to feel comfortable with me,” Dean said breathily, and ceased his movement for a second.

But your hooded eyes with blown pupils and your puffed out lips were telling him all he needed to know.

“I know we can, but I really don’t wanna stop, Dean. Unless, of course, you want to stop, and in that case we totally can, no pressure,” you smiled at him sweetly, and he kissed you again, unable to keep to himself.

He didn’t say anything but rummaged the front seat before pulling a silver package in his hand, tearing it apart and getting the rubber on himself.

He looked at you once again, and you nodded, wordlessly, just wanting to feel him, finally.

He teased you for a moment, gathering the slick escaping your core before he slowly pushed in, letting you breathe out the slight discomfort of having somebody so think inside you. Once he was bottomed out, he waited before you raised your hips, signalling you were ready for a movement. And Dean obediently listened.

He withdrew from you before thrusting in again, repeating this motion before you were trembling underneath him. But it was a skilled slick of your clit that sent you over the edge, crying out his name loudly, your eyes squeezed shut.

Dean knew he would never see anything as pretty as you coming on his cock. And it was this sight in combination with your tight pussy that was his undoing. He came with a grunt, spilling inside the condom, and letting his sweaty forehead lean against yours.

Warning ending

“Well, that was something else, Y/N. How are you feeling?” Dean asked attentively, laying down next to you, cuddling you from behind.

“I couldn’t be better, Dean. Thank you for tonight, it is a night to remember,” you whispered, snuggling closer to his firm chest.

—

You woke up to the sound of four feet fluttering on the wooden floor of your bedroom. You could hear your husband’s heavy breathing, so you knew he was still deep asleep, and when you opened your eyes, you could see your 5-year old son and your 3-year old daughter staring back at you, mischievous grins plastered on their faces.

You smirked at them, and that was their undoing. They both squealed loudly, jumping on your bed and effectively waking their dad up.

“What are you doing here, you little monsters?” he rasped, catching his daughter in his arms and tickling her until she was screaming for mercy.

You laughed at their antiques and the way your son tried to save his little sister from the tickle monster.

“What are you laughing at, pretty lady? You think the tickle monster can’t get you too?” your husband asked you, and your children stopped what they were doing, looking at you, before they both jumped at you, while their father tickled the hell out of you.

“Stoooop, please,” you yelled, trying to shimmy out of bed.

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily, m’lady. I told you on that first date that you were mine, and there is no way I’m letting you go,” Dean rasped at you, and while you were still laughing, you shook your head at your husband.

He promised to show you why he thought you were the best girl, and he has been doing that for the past 12 years. Your first love was indeed the best love.

Supernatural Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove @defenderrosetyler

Dean Taglist

@team-free-will-you-idjiot

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish @coffeebooksandfandom @waiting4inspiration @caswinchester2000 @mogaruke @justthatfangirloverthere @mushyjellybeans @livsheph @sebbbystaaan @notyourtypicalrose @itsunclebucky @rinkashirikitateku

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