#will smith blurb

[wintfleur]

Hiii! Could you do 🪷 “placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered” for will smith

౨ৎ irresistible

﹕─┈ pairings ( Will smith x female! reader )

°. — summary ( will’s supposed to be studying, but he can’t focus on anything but you . . . it’s not his fault his girl is so irresistible )

°. — details ( g; fluff, slightly suggestive. w; suggestive actions, but no smut, heated makeout. wc; 1.2k)

﹕─┈ prompt ~ placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh will !!! Tysm for sending in a request, so sorry it took so long for me to get out, I absolutely loved writing this !!! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you guys think )

+ could be read as a part 2 to this or just as a standalone.

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

Saturday mornings were for cuddling, sweet nothings whispered into each other's ears, messy hair and slow kisses, and of course making pancakes that left your kitchen a mess in its wake. Well for will they were, and don't get me wrong you loved those types of Saturdays.

But for you as of late, your Saturdays were waking up early, kissing your still sleeping boyfriend's forehead, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, strong coffee, and studying for hours in the quiet library knowing that you wouldn't be bothered. But this Saturday was different, instead of going to the library alone, your sweet boyfriend decided to join you. 

He swore that he would help you study since he felt bad for distracting you the other day during class, he knows how important your academics are to you. He promised to be on his best behavior . . . and he really really tried too. But he couldn't help but have his mind wander as he watched study. 

Between the cute pout on your lips as you focused, the way you absentmindedly bit on the top of your pen as you read the large textbook in front of you, and the way he got a perfect view of your cleavage as you leaned forward to write, made him impatient, restless. His mind clouded with thoughts he shouldn't be having in a library. But what can he say, you were just so irresistible. 

“Will” you whisper his name in a warning tone when you felt his hand slip under your shirt, your eyes not leaving your notebook that was filled with your notes, pastel highlighter covered words and little doodles on the sides of the pages. Will did not pause his wandering hand, softly caressing your lower back, his gaze on your side profile. 

“C’mon no one is around” he whispered as he moved closer to you, tilting his body to the side as he sat next to you, your knees brushing up against each other. The soft lingering touch making his want for you, stronger. Will's eyes quickly dart around the dimly lit corner of the library they sat at, no one in sight. They were in their own little world. 

You look up from your books and to will when you hear the desperateness in his tone, ever since you woke him up this morning, soft kisses on the side of his face as you gently ran your fingers through his messy hair, he's been clingy, only wanting your touch and attention. Two things he wasn't getting as you studied hard, his own books and homework long forgotten. 

You could see the desire in his eyes, a look you knew well. Will’s fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties, teasingly tracing the skin under it, sending goosebumps in its wake. 

You swallow hard and ignore the feeling of desire stirring in your stomach, you had to focus, you weren't going to let your needy boyfriend distract you again. You clear your throat and look away from a now smirking will (he could read you so well) And turn your focus back on your textbook “I only have a few chapters left.” 

Will pouts and stops his hand from going lower when you turn your attention back to your studies. He pulls his hand away from your lower back and rests his arm on the back of your chair as he watches you move your hair to your other shoulder, giving him a perfect view of your neck and nape. Your movement gives him a good whiff of your perfume he loved so much. 

Will quickly looks around and smiles triumphantly when he sees that they are still alone and out of sight. He leans forward in his seat and closer to you, his arm on the back of your chair dropping down to wrap around you as he leans down, his chest pressed against your side. 

You try to focus on the words in front of you, but you couldn't focus on anything but the way your boyfriend was pressed up against you, his body warmth spreading over you. Will's lips twitch up into a smirk when he sees you falter, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your shoulder and up to your nape. Your eyes flutter close as the feeling of his soft lips on your warm skin, a small gasp leaving your parted lips. 

A sharp gasp escapes your lips and your eyes quickly open when you feel his hot mouth part, his tongue teasingly swiping against your burning skin. Will leans back in his chair, a chuckle leaving his lips as you quickly stand up and move away his touch, a familiar warmth and desire spreading across your body. Wills eyes darken as he watches your eyes drop to his legs where he was manspreading, softly biting your lip at the sight before quickly looking up to his eyes, stuttering out “I’m going to go get another book.” 

You didn't wait for a response before you were turning on your heels and making your way towards the history section of the library, thankfully it was close to where the two of you were sitting. You let out a heavy breath and bring your hand to your nape, softly rubbing the hot skin as your eyes dart over the books on the long shelfs. 

You knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well, so you had to get out of there before it was too late and you fell to his charms and touch . . . you were so close to just letting him take you back to your dorm. You stop at the right section and your eyes rake over the long shelf, looking for the right book that you need. 

You only notice your boyfriend who followed you when you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more room, will hums in appreciation and places a kiss to your pulse point, your breath hitching at the bruising kiss.

 “Will,” you whispered breathlessly. 

A needy groan leaves his lips as he hears you say his name so prettily, and he doesn't wait another second before he is pulling back and quickly turning you around, softly pushing you back against the bookshelf, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked down at you, the desire in your eyes matching his. 

He can't wait anymore, the way you looked up at him, the desire in your eyes, the way your chest raised in fall as you breathe heavy, your pretty lips parted, you looked irresistible. Will quickly surged forward, and your noses softly knocked against each other as he took your lips in a passionate kiss. 

You slid your hand up his side and up his back before tangling it into his hair at his nape, the kiss only heating up as he pressed his body flush against you, your touch sending chills down his spine. A whine leaves your lips as he moves his knee between your thighs, will eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, his hands traveling your body as if he didn't have every inch of your body memorized. 

The kiss only gets hotter as gasps and moans leave both of your lips, you found yourself absentmindedly bucking against his knee. You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, needing air and not wanting to be caught in a heated makeout with your boyfriend. Pants leaving your lips as you whispered needily. 

“My dorm or yours?” 

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn x )

[kentsjohnson91]

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧ʷˢ²

in which will's arm becomes your canvas in the moments you need it most.

warnings; anxiety, bullying (pre-school), BRIEF mention of parents fighting, but other than that, pure fluff. if you can think of others, please don't hesitate to let me know!

You had met Will Smith in pre-school. On the first day that you had stepped inside the classroom, you had been captivated by his blond hair and blue eyes. His hair had been neatly cut, safely tucked behind his ears, while his eyes matched perfectly with his charming smile. Even at four years old, he had you wrapped around his finger.

You didn't get the chance to talk to him, however, until the winter of that school year. You had always been the anxious type, finding it hard to reach out and speak to your classmates. So, you didn't. Ultimately, that led to a group of boys catching you on the slide, alone, during recess one day. It was a typical Massachusetts day for that time of year - a white blanket of snow enveloped the state, and the ice on the ground was as smooth as glass. But in that moment, none of that had mattered. A brown-haired boy in the group had approached first, asking the question everyone wanted to know the answer to.

"Why don't you talk?"

Those words stung. It wasn't like you didn't want to. It just felt like your mouth was zipped shut and someone had thrown out the key to unlock it every time you tried to speak.

So, naturally, you didn't answer.

A few moments later, another boy stepped forward, "Aww, is the little baby too afraid to speak?"

You took a deep breath, trying to gather yourself, but it was clear that you weren't going to get out of this one easily. Despite your observation, you carefully hopped off of the slide you were perched on and turned your back to the boys as you attempted to walk away. You had only made it a few steps when you felt a hard shove from behind - one that made you fall face first onto the ground. Your face burrowed itself into the thick layer of snow that had blanketed the ground, the cold powder stinging your face. You tried to burrow into the safety of your heavy winter coat, but not even that worked.

You could hear the muffled laughs of the boys behind you, one shouting, "Mute freak!" and the other shouting, "Scaredy-cat!" Suddenly, however, a third voice had joined the conversation. The voice was both recognizable and unrecognizable to you, both comforting yet oddly familiar. That was enough for you to gather the strength to look up from the ground.

"Leave her alone!"

It was Will.

His neatly-trimmed blond hair had grown shaggy over time, the wisps of it curling at the nape of his neck. A white winter hat was covering the rest, but you could almost see the way it was curled at the top of his head. A flame of anger was dancing in his usually icy blue eyes, and his smile was no longer charming, only frustrated.

He shoved the two boys back, but not hard enough for them to fall to the ground. That didn’t matter, however. Will had the upper hand - he had a few inches on both of the boys, which meant that in their eyes, he towered over them. Without any other words being spoken, the two boys ran off in fear, occasionally looking back only to find Will glaring at them as he carefully walked over to you.

As he approached you, he offered a compassionate smile, one that would’ve made you feel better if your face wasn’t going numb from the snow. He grabbed your hands and helped you sit up, his gloved hands immediately going to gently brush the snow off of your face.

You flinched in surprise, but the soft material felt comforting against your rosy cheeks. He glanced at you as if to ask if it was okay for him to continue, and you nodded softly. Once he was done, he wiped his snow-covered gloves on the material of his puffy coat - no doubt one his mom made him wear - and offered a gentle hand to help you up off of the ground.

“I’m William, but I go by Will,” he smiled, his hand lingering in yours until he knew for sure that you were safely off of the ground. When he let go, your hands immediately went to fumble with the hem of your hoodie in both anxiety and relief.

You weren’t sure what, but something washed over you, and timidly yet undoubtedly, you raised your voice.

“I’m Y/N.”

And that was the first time you talked to one of your classmates. That classmate just happened to be Will Smith.

As the year went on, you and Will grew inseparable. He continued to be the only classmate you talked to, but he didn't seem to mind. Everyone around you wondered why Will received your special treatment, but the truth of the matter was that he was the only one who made you feel safe. He never judged you for your anxiety, but instead welcomed it because even at four years old, he knew it was apart of you.

Later in spring, you were having a particularly bad day when Will handed you a pack of markers. He had recently turned five, a milestone you were still waiting on, and he received the package of colored ink as one of his gifts. He opened the table's cubby to reveal some coloring books, but as he placed them down, he felt your hand grab his wrist.

Without a word, you had taken the cap off of a light blue marker and began drawing a flower on his skin. Will hesitated for a moment, but when he took sight of your face, he could see the way your eyes visibly drained of worry as you traced the ink. So, naturally, he continued to let you do it.

Little did you know that that tradition would last for fourteen years.

Even at 19, the tradition of drawing on Will’s skin had become second nature, something neither of you ever questioned anymore. He constantly had markings on his skin from you, but he didn’t mind. It was a quiet way for you to find your balance in waves of emotions and for him to remind you that you were never alone.

It had been a long day for you. You had come over after a family dinner that had left your nerves frayed, your usual quietness amplified to the point that Will could tell something was wrong the second you walked in. Now, hours later, you sat on his bed, your legs cocooned into your chest as if that would provide you with any sense of comfort. Your mind was racing with more bad thoughts than good. The faint glow of “Ratatouille” illuminated the room through the screen of Will’s laptop, but neither of you seemed too interested.

Will glanced at you, catching the way your knees were pulled up to your chest, your fingers picking at the hem of your sweatshirt like they had the first time he met you. Without a word, he reached over to his desk, opened his top drawer, and grabbed the same pack of markers that had been sitting there since you were kids — the ones he had received for his 5th birthday — and held them out to you.

You glanced up at him slowly, your eyes meeting his blue ones. The flames of worry dancing in them almost matched the yellow marker you had grabbed from him. Will leaned back against his headboard, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence but not the calm.

With the marker in your hand, you forced arm down until his wrist was stretched out in your lap. You were focused, your brow furrowed in that familiar way as you worked on filling the empty space of his skin with tiny, intricate designs.

You didn’t look up, the marker stilling for only a second before continuing its careful strokes. “Just thinking,” you murmured, the words barely audible over the scratch of ink against his skin. Will sighed softly, gently grabbing your chin with his free hand to get you to look at him.

“About what?”

You hesitated, your hand pausing again. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, you looked like you might change the subject. But then you sighed and went back to drawing, your voice low, “Dreams, I guess. The future. If my parents stop fighting. If I’ll ever feel… well, less like this.”

Will didn’t need to ask what this meant. He’d been your best friend long enough to know—this was the restlessness, the anxiety, the weight you carried in moments like these. Hell, it was the weight you carried all the time. He watched as you traced another flower on his wrist, your hand steady despite the storm you clearly felt inside.

His heart broke, but he didn’t falter.

“You will,” he said simply, the steadiness in his voice making you chuckle slightly.

Your lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “You make it sound easy.”

Will smiled softly, the compassion he’d always held for you radiating through him, “It’s not. But you’ll get there,” he said, leaning forward just enough so that your knees touched. “And until then, you can keep putting your dreams on me.” He tilted his head, gesturing toward the growing garden of flowers and stars you were creating.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound warming the room. It was the first time Will had heard you laugh all day, “Dreams?“

Will shook his head, his grin small but sincere, “These are the outlines of what’s in your head, Y/N/N — your dreams, your worries, all of it. You’ve been doing it since we were five years old.”

You laughed, your eyes meeting his again, “But what makes you think they’re my dreams?”

“They constantly change,” he explained, a wisp of his blond curls falling in front of his eyes. He looked exactly like the four year old you had met on the playground that winter day. “When we were six, you drew rocket ships because all you wanted was to be an astronaut. And when we were 11, I constantly had drawings of cats and dogs on my wrists because you wanted to be a veterinarian. And last year, you drew the Boston College logo over and over again because you wanted me to be happy at B.C.”

“And what about my worries?”

“They remain more steady, but I don’t mind carrying them for awhile,” he whispered softly, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Your marker stilled, and for a moment, you just looked at him, your chest feeling a little lighter in a way only Will could manage. Then, with a soft smile, you added one last detail to the sunflower you’d been working on—a tiny heart at the center.

“You’re so corny,” you said, placing his arm back in his lap.

Will smirked, lifting it to admire your work, “And you’re the one who just drew a heart. Who’s corny now?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. You tucked your legs under you, leaning back against the headboard beside him. He might’ve been corny, but he meant more to you than you could ever know,“You’ll always be my favorite sketchbook, you know.”

Will nudged your shoulder lightly, the marker still in his other hand, “And you’ll always be a flower on my skin.”

Neither of you said anything else after that, the room settling into a comfortable silence. But the outlines of your dreams stayed etched on Will’s arm, just like they always would.

a/n; this might be one of my favorite works that i’ve ever written. i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did!

[uluvjay]

Unexpected- W. Smith

Will Smith x Hughes! Sister

In which your brothers were not expecting to find a boy in your bed when they came to visit

Warnings?; cursing, anxiety, judgmental brothers, fluff, sorry for any errors!

“Dude just use your key.” Quinn grumbled to Jack as he continued to knock on your apartment door.

“I don’t want to invade her privacy.” Jack huffed.

“She came into our apartment to surprise us that one time.” Luke shrugged reminding his brother of the time they came home to find you on their couch.

“What if she’s like-i don’t know..not decent?” Jack cringed.

“Oh my god-move, I’ll just use mine.” Quinn huffed as he pushed his younger brother out of the way.

The boys had been texting you nonstop attempting to get an answer from you especially after their consistent knocking hadn’t worked and Quinn was tired of waiting.

Jack and Luke played the bruins in two days and having a short gap in his schedule Quinn decided to join his brothers on a surprise visit to their baby sister before he had to return to a hectic season.

Pushing open the sleek door of your apartment they were met with your natural vanilla scent, by the door was your messy shoe rack, umbrellas, coats, your keys on a hook, and hockey sticks-wait, why the hell would you have that many hockey sticks?

“Why does she hav-ow what the?” Luke began but was cut off as his foot came into contact with a hefty hockey bag and he went stumbling forward.

“Umm..why the hell is there usa hockey bag in her entryway?” Jack questioned, looking between his brothers with a raised eyebrow.

“The fuck are you asking us for?” Quinn spoke quietly.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you dumbass her keys are here, which means she’s probably sleeping still.” Quinn replied.

The boys looked around your apartment a bit more, keeping quiet as they walked through the living room area and kitchen.

Jack and Quinn knew the layout well as this was their graduation gift towards you, they felt unsafe with you living on campus and despite your protests when you opened the box revealing keys, you had been living here since the fall.

“Uh guys..there’s a gold medal on her living room table.” Luke choked.

“What?” Jack asked as he rushed in from the kitchen.

Meeting his brothers in the living room his eyes met the good medal that was in fact sitting pretty in the middle of your coffee table.

“Usa bag, sticks, and a gold medal? Shes dating one of the Bc guys that just won at world juniors. She has to be.” Luke laughed looking up at his older brothers.

Jack was the first to take off down the hall and towards your cracked bedroom door, both defensemen following closely behind him.

Quietly pushing your door open they found you asleep on your back, a Boston college hockey shirt on, thank god Jack thought.

And on your chest was a head of blonde curls, one of your hands resting on the boys shoulder peacefully while one of his arms was thrown around your waist.

Retreating to your living room the three men huddled together.

“He looks familiar.” Jack spoke up.

“His name is will something, he just got drafted.” Luke confirmed remembering his face from the draft.

“It’s Will smith. He went fourth overall to the sharks.” Quinn spoke showing his brothers the boy’s Instagram page.

“What do we do now?” Luke questioned, not sure where they should go from here.

“We wait.” Jack smirked and moved to make himself comfortable on your large sectional.

-

A little over an hour later they heard soft voices coming from your room, quite good mornings and the sound of lips connecting.

“Breakfast?” They heard you question and will confirm with a soft yeah.

Making your way out of your bedroom and down the hall you felt your heart drop into your stomach and a scream escape at the sight of three large figures sat on your couch.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You shrieked once you realized it was your brothers.

“Came to see you, why? Is there something your hiding from us?” Jack smirked as his eyes dropped from you to gold medal on your table and back to you.

You followed his eyesight and worry filled you as you remembered that your boyfriend, who was fresh out of Sweden had all of his things here, the boyfriend your brothers also have no idea about.

“Shit. J-just give me a second.” You groaned as you turned around and pushed a curious Will back into your room before shutting the door.

“Everything okay?” He questioned as the noticeable worry etched on your face.

“My brothers are here.” You spoke quietly.

“Your brothers? As in all three?” Will asked.

“Yep.” You spoke popping the ‘p’ before continuing.

“Came to surprise me, turns out they were a bit more surprised when they found all of your usa stuff.” You laughed.

“Wh-what uh, what are we going to do?” He coughed.

It’s not that Will was necessarily scared of your brothers, he’d already met your parents and talked to your dad regularly about hockey. But brothers are different, especially your brothers. You four have a bond he’s never seen before and the protectiveness they have over you is strong.

“You’re going to have to come out and meet them.” You shrugged.

“Right now?”

“No tomorrow at four. Yes right now will! They’re literally sitting in my living room waiting.” You spoke.

“Okay.” He breathed.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s do this” he nodded confidently.

“I love you and you know I wont let them kill your right?” You laughed as you took his cheeks into your hands.

“I know, I love you too.” He smiled and you placed a light kiss on his lips before turning around and leading him into your living room.

To say the sight In front of him wasn’t intimidating wouldn’t be a lie, despite being around the same height as all three men their broody stance snd interrogating stares had will feeling a bit nervous.

The three nhl stars were dressed in all black, hoodies, joggers, and beanies as they stood around the living room table looking Will up and down.

“Boys this is my boyfriend Will, Will these are my brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Lukey.” You smiled.

Despite the circumstances you were happy to have your brothers here and it felt good to be back in their presence.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Will smiled as he reached a hand out.

All three looked at his hand but Quinn was the first to move in and shake it, locking wills hand in a tight grip.

The other two followed after Quinn, their grips just as if not tighter around Wills hand. You could see the gears turning in Luke’s head and that soon questions would be flying out left and right, and before you started to answer them you needed food.

“Why don’t we talk over breakfast? There’s an amazing place down the street.” You suggested and thankfully everyone agreed to a nice meal.

-

Forty-five minutes later you were all gathered at a table at the small restaurant down the road, coffees in your brothers hands while you and Will both chose a nice glass of Oj.

“So” Quinn coughed, “how’d you two meet?”

“Izzy is dating his friend Ryan, they introduced us and we hit it off pretty well so we exchanged numbers and went on a few dates. The rest was history after that.” You smiled.

Izzy was your best friend from back home, the boys knew her so well she was practically another sister to them and she was a big contributor to your decision to come to Boston college instead of Umich.

“Hmm, where’d you take her for the first date?” Luke spoke up.

“Mini golf, got my ass kicked though. Didn’t realize someone could be so good at it.” Will laughed at the memory.

“Y/n is an amazing golfer, she does it quite a bit over the summers.” Jack nodded.

“Best in the family i’d say.” You smirked.

“Okay don’t get ahead of yourself now.” Luke scoffed.

“So you’re a sharks prospect right?” Jack asked.

“Uh yeah, they drafted me this past spring.” Will smiled.

The questions kept up until the food came, but they began to get more relaxed and generic after a while. The boys began to asked will more about school and how it was a world juniors and soon they were all sharing laughs.

“You know, that wasn’t really the way I wanted to find out my baby sister had a boyfriend but you’re a cool kid Will.” Quinn smiled.

“Thank you, she’s amazing. Out my league really.” Will blushed as you elbowed him in his side.

“That’s true, but as long as you treat her right and make her happy then we like you.” Jack spoke softly.

“But don’t think we won’t flatten your ass out on the ice if you ever hurt her.” Luke smirked.

Will nodded with a winded expression and and awkward silence crowded the table before the ringing of Quinn’s phone broke through.

“Oh, it’s mom.” He smirked right at Will and it took everything in you to hold down your laugh.

“Hey mom!” He greeted her warmly.

“Hi sweetie, just checking if you got into your sisters.” She spoke.

“Oh yeah we got in, found quite the surprise to.” Jack laughed.

“Oh really? What happened.”

Quinn turned the screen around to show your mother Will and while they were all expecting her to freak out their expressions dropped the second they heard her voice.

“Will! How are you doing honey?” She asked excitedly.

“I’m good Mrs. Hughes, how about you.” Your boyfriend smiled.

“Oh I told you to knock that Mrs. Hughes off! I’m good though honey thank you for asking.” She smiled.

“Let me find Jim really fast, he’ll want to say hi.” Your mother spoke up.

You released a giggle at the shock and confusion that was written on your brother’s faces. Their eyebrows were all pulled together as they shared a look of confusion.

“Will! How are you buddy.” Your father greeted.

“I’m good Jim, how about you?”

“I’m good son, my boys haven’t given you and my girl any trouble have they?”Your father questioned.

“No, it’s been okay.” Will laughed.

The conversation kept up for a moment but your mother ultimately decided to hang up when Jack kept whining about her not telling them you had a boyfriend.

“I can’t believe they knew!” He groaned.

“I told them first, wanted to make sure they liked him.” You shrugged.

“This is unbelievable.” He pouted and that’s how the rest of your day continued until your mom apologized and offered to bake him his favorite homemade goods the next time she visited.

-



[goldfades]

Could you do 🌱 “cuddling in bed” for will smith??

𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 | ws⁶

♡ ─ word count | 537

♡ ─ warnings | absolutely nothing, just affirming words and will being a sweetheart

♡ ─ ev's notes | i LOVE will smith sm

Will wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer as you snuggled into his neck. The bed was warm, enveloping you into another universe as you laid on Will, all the stress from the week melting off. The rhythmic sound of your breathing intertwined with Will's, causing you to relax into his arms. Outside, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the cocoon of comfort the two of you had created.

As you snuggled into Will's neck, you could feel the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that anchored you in the present and away from all your anxious thoughts and worries. His arm provided a sense of security, a protective embrace that shielded you from the outside uncertainties. The subtle scent of his fresh and sweet cologne lingered in the air, you couldn't help but breathe it in.

"Baby?" You heard his voice mutter. You hummed back in response, too sleepy to respond. "You know, sometimes all we need is a little escape," he whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. His words lingered in the air, carrying a gentle reminder of the simplicity that moments like these held.

"Promise me," he continued, his voice a gentle murmur, "that no matter how crazy life gets, we'll always find our way back to moments like these. Just you and me, escaping into our little world."

"I promise," you whispered back, your words carrying the weight of sincerity.

As you lay intertwined, the world outside seemed to pause, allowing the sanctuary you both created to expand. His fingers gently traced circles on your back, soothing and grounding; something he'd always do, and something that's grown to calm you even on the most stressful days.

The whisper of Will's voice returned, softer now, as he spoke. "I love you, you know that?" His declaration melted into the warmth of the room, making your heart beat faster. He'd said it a million times before but this time it held more meaning, if that was even possible.

"I do," you replied, your voice a soft echo in the intimate space between you. As your eyes met his blue ones, you saw the warmth in his heart. "I love you, too."

He smiled, a warm and genuine expression that spoke volumes. "I mean it, though," he said, his thumb tracing a delicate path along your cheek. "I'm so lucky. I feel like everytime I look at you, I fall more in love."

You let a warm laugh at his cheesy statement but you heart fluttered instead as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. Will's sincere gaze held yours, and in that moment, you felt the authenticity of his feelings.

"You're stuck with me, you know?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with a playful glint. "I can't help it. Every little thing about you just makes me fall a little bit more."

With a tender smile, you whispered, "I wouldn't have it any other way." The sincerity in your voice mirrored his, creating an exchange of vows unspoken but truly felt. It was a silent promise to cherish each day with each other, to find beauty in the mundane, and to never let anything get in between you two.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[cobrakaisb]

📸 will smith

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[cuttergauthier]

Tossing & Turning

Female reader x Will Smith

Warning: fluff

word count: 0.2k

let me know what you guys think🤍

In which reader can’t seem to get comfy

I woke up to Will tossing and turning, I turned around so I could face him. I thought he would stop but it’s been 20 minutes

I heard him sighed before he turned again.

I turned around to face him.

"You've been tossing and turning for the last twenty minutes. what's up?" I asked him.

He looked at me, even though it’s dark I could see he was pouting.

“Nothing, go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He said softly

“I don’t care that you woke me up, what’s bothering you?” 

“Really, nothing’s bothering me, I just can’t seem to get comfy” he said, I smiled before placing a kiss on his lips. 

Once I pulled away I pushed him so he was laying on his back. I laid down on top of him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my forehead.

“Are you comfy now?” I asked.

“Yeah, thanks love” 

“Anytime, now get some sleep, we have to go to class tomorrow” I said softly.

“I love you” he said.

“I love you too”

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Lizards

Benny x Lu full blurb

Without thinking, because she is twenty four now and has been to the beach and has swam with friends and has lived a life, Lu shucks her dress, her shoes, her slip and dives into the lake, nylon undergarments ruined and only just sufficient to be considered a covering. It’s fine, it’s normal, she comes up to the surface and she knows, somewhere far back in her mind she knows, her chest and its scar is visible but it doesn’t matter. The sun is bright, the water is reflecting so strongly she has to squint and through it all Benny is tossing his hair out of his eyes and laughing between puffs of exertion at treading water. He is laughing at having jumped in, at the fact she went for it, too. It doesn’t matter that her body is on display, as a gruesome curiosity or an incitement to desire.

She is swimming with Benny and it’s all just fine.

It makes the moment so utterly enjoyable Lu feels like all her longing to be out here, to be surrounded by this big vast world— it’s been close to right, very near what she’s needed, it’s just made a little better with him and that’s unfortunate as he lives in Chicago. Benny shouldn’t be in the city, he should be in a sparkling lake with minnows assaulting his feet and diamonds of water caught in his lashes.

They’re laughing at each other, so much so they’re close to drowning, and they don’t have to say why. It’s perfect.

She could count each of his lashes as she swims around him, so close and so circular she’s half minnow herself, Benny’s eyes don’t leave her face and he’s stopped laughing enough to look mildly wary at her antics. She’d like to count his lashes, she realizes, she never really thought of how many there were, distracted perhaps, by his beard at other times.

Back when he had a beard: she knew that about him. Back when she stuffed cardboard into her brassieres: he knew that about her.

She keeps circling him and can’t make any progress on counting his lashes because he begins to laugh again, but it’s short and aggravated and she waits for him to explain it, she knows he will.

“What’re you, half mermaid?” there’s quashed competition in his voice, he’s betrayed at her leaving off their giggle fit to actually swim.

“You sure aren’t.” she laughs back, his neck is almost fully in the water, “Those big strong shoulders can’t hold you up? Am I going to have to tow you to the rock?”

Benny takes the teasing well, his face clears if anything, quick to laugh at himself. “You’ve got an advantage, you come here a lot. I’ve been rottin’ in the city.”

Lu gives an approving nod at his conclusion, it aligns with her own. “Yes, so you’ve gotta fix that. You should come out here more often.”

He doesn’t need to come here. Here with her.

There’s all manner of woods and water and nature just outside his stupid city but that’s not an option somehow, not with the way he’s here with her when he could be in the woods with Jack or out on a boat with Maureen. He chose here, instead.

“Yeah, I should.” Benny just agrees because they don’t have to say all that, say that it feels right and different. It just is for now and they can let it be.

She watches him lay back in the water, floating along with the gentle ripple and his ears are below the water and his eyes are on the big blue sky above them and Lu thinks that’s a perfect idea so she floats back too, staring at the sky they once knew so well, wondering if he misses it like she does- in a way that’s half agony of separation and absolute terror of ever being made to reunite with it.

Bucky doesn’t get that; he’s still flying.

Ida and Gale would still be if their governments weren’t so shit to them.

Jack never wanted to but he’d done it for the country, for his people, because it was right. From how often Benny and Jack see each other, like they’re dosing each other up by sheer proximity, Lu guesses they shared that singular motivation.

She turns her head, one ear clogged and filled with water, her other cheek so far into the lake it’s almost lapping up her one nostril; but she can see Benny floating near her, he has his eyes closed.

He gets it, she thinks, heart so full she could cry from happiness for once.

“-don’t you want to fall asleep like this?” she wants to ask him, says it aloud only because she knows his ears are under the water, his face doesn’t even twitch, his eyelids are smooth without a crease of a squint or a frown around them, his nose is ever so gently upturned and Lu wants to place her hand under his head, keep him like this forever, let him enjoy it like she does, “You could, I’d keep you up, make sure you don’t drown.”

When Benny turns his face to her she blushes hot even in the freshwater lake, he looks like he’s caught her at something she shouldn’t be doing, a chiding look of kindness but it reminds her she shouldn’t be treading water and staring at his face like she loves him. If only he could see himself. He’d understand it then. Anyone would.

It’s Benny. And it’s perfect and before he pulls his head up fully he lets himself sink a little and does a slow lazy flip in the water and she feels him tickle her foot on the way back up.

It’s much the same laying on the toasty flat limestone rocks on the lakeshore. Benny and her, burning their backs on the rock, tender bellies getting scorched by late afternoon sun, underwear drying out as crispy as the grass. He’s got his eyes closed again, lashes fanned out on freckling cheeks. And Lu is watching him once more and thinking how much she’d like to be a couple of lazy lizards with Benny.

She snickers at the thought.

“What’s that?” he hums.

Lu shakes her head, disbelieving that she’s about to embarrass herself like this but at least he still has his eyes closed, “I was thinking that we’re a pair of lizards.” And that she’d like to keep being a lizard with him and have a lizard family.

Benny doesn’t laugh at her, his nose crinkles in a mildly disgusted way but he looks like he’s gotta agree despite it all, she feels so fuzzy by that. “I think my back is gonna stay on the rock when I sit up.”

The clasps of her bra are digging into her spine but, otherwise it’s burning and fabulous and she wants to stay forever. The look on his face, lazily tilted towards hers on the rock with his eyes half masted and open, agrees so eloquently Lu wants to— she doesn’t know. So she settles with reaching out and resting her hand on the browned meat of his pretty shoulder. Benny’s eyes droop further and they chide her ever so gently for the fire it ignites in them both all at once, and Lu would love to be two lizards and stay here forever.

[peachhcs]

plz write a cute celebrini x fem reader 🙏🙏 ur writing is beyond amazing

oooh i've never written specifically for mack before so hopefully this isn't bad 😅

after mack’s face injury, his gf is quick to look after him once the game is done

she waited impatiently near the doors of the locker room awaiting her boyfriend's arrival. y/n's mind couldn't stop replaying the horror on her features and everyone else's when they saw the blood trickle down macklin's face after a nasty high stick hit. she knew he was okay because he was right back on the ice once the bleeding stopped, but the image wouldn't shake the girl's brain.

lingering after the game felt so long this time around and y/n wondered if it was just because she was anxious about seeing her boyfriend and properly checking up on him. she swiped through twitter and instagram continuously while video replays of the rookie's hit filled her feeds. she just shut her phone off all together for now, not being able to watch the play anymore.

finally, the players began trickling out. y/n's head popped up, searching for the eyes of macklin in the crowd. she spotted him with will near the middle of the pack and he immediately found her gaze. will sensed that they probably wanted to talk, so he split off from the boy once they got closer, giving a small nod to y/n as he passed.

"hey," macklin began, but was caught off guard when y/n jumped into his arms.

"let me see it," she grabbed ahold of his chin, turning his face to the side to examine the new scar.

"it's really not that bad now. they cleared it up really good," the brunette tried reassuring his girlfriend knowing she probably had a hundred thoughts running through her.

"you scared the shit out of me when i saw all that blood. it looked a lot worse," y/n stepped back, arms crossing over her chest.

macklin frowned at the sudden distance between them, "i'm sorry, baby. i promise i'm fine. see?" he gave his best grin hoping to further prove how he was doing.

"well, if i see wilson, i'm gonna punch him myself," y/n huffed, looking around like she would catch the older player lingering somewhere.

macklin laughed, tugging y/n into his side and kissing the side of her head, "you're so cute when you're upset. i promise i'm fine though. i mean you saw me play afterwards."

"yeah you fucking power played. i guess that was your redemption," the two exchanged a laugh and macklin enjoyed finally pulling a smile from her.

"can i come back to your place tonight?" the boy wondered as they moved themselves closer to the exit.

"i thought that was a given already," y/n chuckled.

macklin went to tell will they were leaving before rushing out of the SAP center so he wouldn't have to do any press. most days he didn't mind, but tonight the boy was itching to get out of there and spend some much needed time with his girl. they hadn't seen each other since last weekend—school and hockey keeping them way too busy.

"just so you know, i am gonna baby you the whole night," y/n informed once they were securely in her car.

"mm, i can't wait. a face mask is just calling my name," the hockey player leaned back in the passenger seat, hand falling to the girl's lap as she pulled out of the parking lot.

luckily, there was no early morning practice tomorrow, so macklin was gonna use that to his full advantage and spend the night in y/n's dorm. the couple rode in comfortable silence into santa clara university, a convenient 7 minutes away from the arena so y/n never missed a home game.

she parked her car again and the couple hurried into her building. the few students wandering around the lobby caught sight of macklin's suit he put back on, a few of them recognizing him from as a sharks player and as y/n's boyfriend because he was over so much.

they lucked out with y/n's roommate hanging out with her own boyfriend tonight, so they had the whole dorm to themselves. macklin immediately thew his backpack onto the ground and shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders.

"gonna shower. i didn't really before we left. you're welcome to join me if you want," the brunette winked at the girl who flushed.

"wow, so classy of you. i did already shower this morning, so i'll have to pass this time," y/n laughed.

"damn, i thought you'd say yes. you sure you don't wanna shower again?" he winked again. y/n groaned, pushing her boyfriend to the bathroom.

"i'll be out here with your face mask."

the rookie accepted his lonely shower fate and disappeared into the bathroom. y/n took the opportunity to tidy up the room and get all the things she needed for their face masks.

20 minutes later, macklin came back out of the bathroom freshly showered and in more comfortable clothes. y/n hung up his suit jacket on the door of her closet, instructing him to do the same with the rest of the outfit so it wouldn't wrinkle.

the boy climbed into her bed a second later, positioning himself against her pillows, "i'm readyy," he sang.

"i've never known you to be so excited for a face mask," y/n grinned.

"it really makes my skin smooth, so i like it," the boy explained.

y/n handed mack her headband so his hair wouldn't be in his face or in the mask. he didn't hesitate to slip it over his head and expose his forehead. the girl giggled at the sight.

"are you laughing at my big forehead?" the boy raised his eyebrow, hands finding places on y/n's hips as she straddled his waist.

"maybe," she hummed, leaning forward to begin rubbing the cream on his skin.

mack admired her focused expression while just really taking the time to take in every part of her as she applied the mask. this was his favorite part of face masks because he could stare at her without shame and she hardly noticed because she was too focused on the mask.

"have i told you how beautiful you are?" the brunette wondered softly. he watched the way y/n's cheeks heated up into a deep blush.

"you have," she muttered.

"well, i'm gonna say it again. you're really beautiful," mack grinned.

"you're sappy tonight," y/n flushed.

"what? can i not say how beautiful my girlfriend is?"

"no, you can. thank you," she finished spreading the mask, leaning back to admire her work.

"how's it look?"

"great. i'lll let you know when five minutes are up," the girl set a timer on her phone and then mack grabbed the mask cream from her hands before she could set it back on the dresser.

she looked at her boyfriend quizzically.

"can i do yours?" he wondered with a soft expression.

y/n blushed again, "just don't get it in my hair."

"promise, i won't," macklin agreed and y/n let him have at it.

his touch was gentle as his fingers began rubbing around her skin. his lip poked out from his lips as he focused on doing it right. y/n loved how much he wanted to do it correctly for her sake and his expression really was just to die for.

"okay, did it," macklin leaned back to admire his work the same way y/n did. she loved the proud little smile on his lips, pulling her camera up to examine how well he did.

"wow, looks great, mack. your best one yet," y/n agreed.

"what can i say? practice makes perfect," the boy hummed, placing everything back onto her dresser.

"so how's your lip doing now?" y/n wondered as mack's hands wandered across the expanse of her hips and waist.

"i can't even feel it anymore, so good. i told you i'm fine," he eyed her.

"i know, just let me be a worry wart."

the sharks player smiled at her words knowing how much she liked to worry about things, especially the things that didn't need to be worried about. he reached up to quickly peck her lips, tryng to avoid getting face mask on one another.

"i love you," the brunette said.

y/n's smile grew, the whole i love you still new to them but heartwarming to hear, "i love you, too," she kissed him again and now they didn't care about getting face mask on one another.

[bbrissonn]

can you please write something for ryan leonard? could literally be about anything i just feel like that boy deserves more attention <3

i love ryry, he deserves more love. cute little freckle man

in which ryan's teammates cant leave the two of you alone in the library

under the cut !

"for fucks sake." ryan mumbled under his breath as he looked up from his book, only to be met with his friends sitting at the table of in front of yours.

"what's wrong, love?"

"they're here again. they're not even trying to be secretive anymore!" he scoffed as your eyes stayed glued to your work. you had a very important coming up, and you needed a good grade.

"just ignore them, babes. they're kids, let them be." you answered, leaning your head down on his shoulder as his eyes met with will's, who had wide smirk on his face.

"oh my god, what are you guys doing here?" gabe asked as they all got up and walked over to sit at your table. ryan let out a loud groan considering you were in a library as his friends made themselves comfortable.

"get out of here!" he spat at his teammates, making you chuckle a bit, but staying focused on your work.

"are we not allowed to study?" will asked, his smirk still present as ryan sent him a death glare.

"where're your books?"

"in my bag."

"take them out and study then. at another table." he said harshly, making all his friends laugh a bit.

"what if we want to sit at this table?" jacob asked, ryan rolling his eyes. your boyfriend looked over at you, begging you to tell the guys to leave, but you were too focused on your book to realize the look he was sending you.

"it's a library, be quiet." ryan warned the guys before looking back down at his work. your head was still leaning on his shoulder, making gabe snap a pic of the two of you. of course, the boy hadn't realized his flash was still on, making it blankly obvious what he was up to.

"get out!"

"what, why?"

"you're not here to study, you're here to bother us. so leave!"

"it was an accident!"

"can you guys go bicker somewhere else? i'm trying to study." you whispered harshly, making all the boys go quiet as they stared at you. you had finally looked up from your book, now sending ryan's friends a death glare that matched your boyfriend's. "all of you." you added, turning your head to look at ryan.

"me?" he gasped, his jaw dropping slightly.

"yes, you. you're the reason these ding dongs keep bothering me, so get out." you sassed, making ryan roll his eyes slightly before he started packing his bag.

"you guys are such assholes." your boyfriend mumbled as he got up from his seat, pressing a kiss to your forehead before making his way out. his friends followed closely, rambling about something that clearly wasn't making ryan happy.

lovey 🤍

give your side pieces some attention

i'll see you tonight loves <3

ryry 💗

i hate them, they're so mean

i miss you

come cuddle me

lovey 🤍

i'll be there in an hour max

love you

ryry 💗

love youuuu

[wintfleur]

Congrats on 1k!! So, so deserved ❤️ Could I request 011, from 🌱 with Will smith and a romantic pairing, please??

౨ৎ messy hair and ink stains

°. — pairings ( will smith x female! reader )

°. — summary ( a regular day in class with a late will )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; none. wc; 1.3k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ a university lecture hall during a class

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahh will !!! He’s so perfect and pretty it hurts. Tysm for sending in a request, I hope you like it !!! And tysm )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

Will was internally cursing at himself as he rushed down the hallway that led to his first class of the day, his backpack is hanging off one of his shoulders and his sneakers where untied, his BC hoodie was thrown on over his t-shirt he fell asleep in and he was sure his hair was a mess even though his roommate gabe said it was fine before he left the late blonde. 

Will opened the door to the lecture hall and let out a sigh of relief when it didn't let out that loud creaking noise. The professor seemed to be too busy writing down things on the board to notice his presence. Will’s eyes scanned the large room and his gaze settled on where he usually always sat, not in the front and not in the far back, a perfect middle ground. 

Vultures, the both of them, will thought with a roll of his eyes when he sees his two best friends sitting at your sides, talking your ear off and probably begging for you to share your notes. Will quickly made his way to the row where the trio were sitting. Your eyes were focused down at your notebook only looking up to glance at the board to write down what the professor was. 

Will’s presence got Ryan's attention who was sitting on your right side and before the smiling boy could say anything, the guy behind him was telling Will to sit down, not being able to see him standing up. Will rolled his eyes while Ryan snickered, the sound catching your attention. You looked up from your book and smiled when you saw your boyfriend sitting on the other side of ryan, it was clear he had a rushed morning, most likely he had slept in. 

“Move” WIll hissed at Ryan, slapping his arm to get his attention. Ryan looks up from his book he totally wasn't reading and gives Will a confused look but when he sees his friends gaze on you, he knows why. He wanted to sit next to his girlfriend. Ryan whispers with a frown “Why do I have to move because you decided to sleep in?” 

“Ryan seriously move” Will hissed as he glared at his friend, but Ryan was not giving up. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back comfortably in his chair. You glanced at Gabe who was sitting on your left, both of you finding the situation funny. Ryan shook his head “No i need to copy her notes, i really need to pass this class.” 

“She’s my girlfriend” Will scoffed, he couldn't believe this. He was having a shitty morning, and he was sure he was going to have a shitty time taking down notes, so all he wanted was to be able to sit next to his girl. Ryan was about to open his mouth to tell Will it's not fair to pull the girlfriend card, but you decided to step in and stop the pettiness. You gave ryan a small smile while gently kicking gabe who was trying to hold in his laughter “I’ll let you copy my notes after class.” 

“Whatever” Ryan grumpily hissed as he stood up, him and will quickly change seats. Ryan huffed as he sat down, pulling his things to be in front of him now. Will set his bag in between his legs and tilted his body to smile at you, you looked so pretty. “Hey baby” he whispered as he leaned down to quickly peck your cherry flavored lips. 

“Sleep well?” you quietly giggled as you pulled away from the much-needed kiss. You dropped your pink pen in your textbook and brought your freshly manicured hand up to fix his messy hair, that he probably forgot to brush in hectic morning. Will blushed at your touch and he leaned forward to send a glare to gabe whispering annoyed at him “You said i wouldn't need a hat.” 

“He also didn't tell you about the toothpaste on your face” Ryan joked but poor tired will didn't pick up on his sarcasm and his hands immediately went to wipe at his face “What?” 

“Do you mind” an annoyed student sitting behind will hissed, annoyed at the four's conversation. The three boys rolled their eyes while Ryan gave them an apologetic smile. Will felt himself shrink in his seat and you couldn't help but smile at how cute he looked. You placed a quick and soft kiss on his cheek and whispering in his ear “Ryan is just messing with you, i think you look handsome.” 

WIll smiled thankfully and watched as you turned your attention back on your notes once the professor started to talk. Will's eyes dropped to your lower back and the sliver of now exposed skin as your shirt rides up when you lean forward, and he has to stop himself from reaching down and touching your skin. He decides to stop distracting himself with thoughts off you and pulls out his books from his backpack and listens to the professor. 

Throughout the class he finds himself glancing at you and listening to the small conversation you shared with gabe about what the professor was talking about. You were big on your studies so will didn't worry too much about writing down everything, knowing that you would let him read through all of your notes on your friend groups study night.

Will rested his chin in his palm as he looked at your side profile, your nose was scrunched as you quickly wrote down what you were thinking. An annoyed huff leaving your lips when your favorite pen stopped working. You turn your head to your boyfriend, your eyes widening slightly when you see him already looking at you, you whisper with a flustered smile “Can I borrow a pen?” 

“Of course, doll” will smiles as he looks through his backpack for an extra pen, he pulls the cap off it and instead of just giving it to you he grabs your hand and turns it around so he can see your palm. You watch him with a confused smile, soon a quiet giggle leaving your lips when you feel and see him draw a few hearts on the pad of your fingers, joined by a ‘you're mine’ and a smiley face on your palm. 

You grab the pen from your boyfriend's hand and bite your lip as you focus on drawing a few hearts and writing the same thing just smaller. You look up from your boyfriend's palm to see him with a big smile on his lips, his cheeks red at your actions. You place soft kiss, your eyes locked as you pull away “Now we match.” 

“You guys disgust me” Ryan grumbled as he watched his two lovesick best friends, Will turns his head to glare at him for ruining the moment while you roll your eyes and go back to writing down your notes. Will pouts as he watches you get distracted in your work and not him instead. Will rested his hand on your thigh, needy for your attention. When you don't look at him right away, he frowns and softly grips onto your thigh and drapes it over his thigh, knowing that would get your attention. 

“Will” you whisper in a warning tone as you turned to look at him with wide eyes when he trailed his fingers higher on your thigh. Will just gives you an innocent smile and picks up his pen for the first time in ten minutes, now having the sudden feeling to focus on the class. His hand still on your thigh. You roll your eyes at your boyfriend and adjust your body so you were closer to him as you went back to listening to the professor, but this time it was you who couldn't seem to take your eyes off him. 

Listening to the professor was the last thing on your guy's mind as you locked eyes, both of your thoughts being filled with ideas of what the two of you would do when class ended. 

Poor Ryan never did get those notes . . .

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( this is not my best writing, I wrote it while I was sick 🙁 )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

[toasttt11]

hugs

summary: gabe just really needs a hug from his girlfriend.

Gabe knew she was giving his worried glances as she drove them back to her apartment.

He just had an appointment with the team doctor to check his injury and if it’s healed so he can play. He wants to play in the upcoming game as it is so important for Boston College and it could be the last game of the season and one of his last chances to play with Ryan and Will.

He did not get cleared to play the game and has been incredibly silent since the doctor told him.

He’s just rested his head on the window looking out the car window as she drove them back to her apartment, he was not ready to talk about it and fortunately his girlfriend understands that and is fine to give him some silence and space to process his thoughts.

Gabe flinched and shook his head not realizing she had called his name and gently shook his arm, He gave her a apologetic smile and she shook her head dismissing his apology as she felt there was nothing to apologize for.

“Wanna go inside?” She quietly asked him, gently grabbing his hand and squeezing softly. Gabe slowly nodded and she let go of his hand as they both got out of the car.

Gabe grabbed her hand gripping tightly as they walked through her apartment building and up to her apartment, she unlocked the front door and walked inside with her boyfriend.

They both slid off their shoes and put them on the shoe rack by the front door.

She gently pulled him through her apartment and stopped once they reached the kitchen. She turned to him her eyes looking at him worriedly, “Are you okay?”

Gabe opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out and he shook his head as his eyes filled with tears.

Her face softened completely and she opened up her arms for him and Gabe took a step forward and easily melted into her wrapping his arms around her tightly and hiding his face in her neck. Gabe just really needed a hug from her.

Her arms wrapped around him and her hands held his face to her shoulder knowing that comforts him.

She felt her shoulder getting damp with his tears and felt his shoulders shaking from his cries.

She just held him and let him cry out his emotions and be comforted.

She gently rubbed his head playing with his soft curls as she felt his cries slowly calm down.

Gabe took a deep breath and lifted his head off her shoulder, he felt better after he cried in her arms, “Thank you.” Gabe mumbled softly looking at her with appreciation. She’s never once judged him for showing his emotions and always comforts him when he needs it.

“You never have to thank me for this.” She sternly told him, all she was doing was comforting the man she is in love.

Gabe just fondly smiled not at all suprised by her response.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She offered softly knowing sometimes he likes to talk about the things bothering him but sometimes he’s not ready to talk about it yet.

“Not today.” Gabe answered her. She just nodded not pressing or prying and accepted he did not want to talk about it yet.

“Go get changed and i’ll make you some hot chocolate.” She gently nudged Gabe to her bedroom, as she is already in comfortable clothes but Gabe still has a pair of Jeans on.

Gabe nodded and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek beside walking away and heading to her bedroom to change into a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt.

She pulled out the two mugs they use when they have hot chocolate together and started making the hot chocolate.

She poured some in each mug and grabbed the mini marshmallows making sure to add extra on Gabe’s.

Gabe walked out of her bedroom back to the kitchen looking a lot more comfortable and relaxed.

Gabe walked to his girlfriend and she handed him a mug and picked her’s up as they walked to her couch and sat down next to each other and she grabbed her favorite knitted blanket and covered both of them.

Gabe threw his arm over his girls shoulder and pulled her as close and possible as they enjoyed their hot chocolate together.

“I love you.” Gabe quietly mumbled against the top of her head as he pressed a kiss to her hair, he was grateful for everything she does for him.

“I love you too.” She mumbled back to him as she contently sipped on her hot chocolate.

[uluvjay]

Valentine’s post- W. Smith

Valentine’s Day instagram edit

Will smith x Hughes sister

All pics from Pinterest!

Part two of this au!

🩷🧸🎀

Will smith

Liked by RyanLeonard, Y/nHughes, and 392,033 others

Will Smith Wishing my favorite girl the happiest of Valentines days, you’re my best friend and I’m so grateful for meeting you, your smile never fails to brighten up my day, you’re always by my side and there for me whenever I need you. I love you pretty girl🩷

User crying🥲

User I’m so unwell

Y/nHughes I’m sobbing, I love you so much🥹🩷

-> will smith I love you more

User Plz god when will it be my turn🙏🏻

User oh🥹

JackHughes good job

-> user Jack??😭😭

Y/nHughes

Liked by QuinnHughes, WillSmith, and 384,903 others

Y/nHughes Screaming happy Valentine’s Day to my boy!!! Will you’ve made me feel like the most special girl in the entire world and I couldn’t be grateful to have you in my life and get to experience a love like yours everyday. You’re loving nature an unconditional support is something I cherish and hold close, I love you Willy💌

User I AM SOBBING

User they’re the cutest ever

User 🥹🥹

WillSmith I love you the most🤍

-> Y/nHughes I think I love you more but whatever floats your boat big guy🥰

User HEY PRETTY GIRL? LOVE OF MY LIFE??? WHEN IS IT MY TURN?!!?!??

QuinnHughes now this is what we wanted to see

-> Y/nHughes Go away😀

-> LukeHughes No, i don’t think we will❤️

[goldfades]

will smith 🌱 37. "what are you listening to?" / "here, take an earbud." ?? 🫶

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 | wm⁶

♡ ─ word count | 854 words

♡ ─ warnings | mention of stress, but other than that, sweet sweet fluff!!!!!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i love this song so much, i just had to mention it lol. i hope you enjoyed!!

You sat in the library, quietly working on your assignment with your headphones in. Today was stressful, more than usual. It was the second semester and the workload was way more than you could handle, but you pushed through - you couldn't quit now. As you sat in the library, the soft hum of whispered conversations and the turning of pages enveloped you like a comforting blanket. Despite the stress, there was something soothing about being surrounded by books and the focused energy of other students.

The stress weighed heavily on your shoulders, but the determination to persevere fueled your focus. Occasionally, you glanced up from your work, observing the other students absorbed in their own work. Everyone seemed engrossed, each one battling their own challenges. You were glad you weren't alone in the struggle, it was comforting knowing others were suffering as much as you were.

You were listening to your study playlist but it was mostly Taylor Swift, to no one surprise. You loved Folklore and Evermore, they were so calming and you loved listening to them whilst studying.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked up to see your boyfriend, Will. He had two coffees in his hand and a bag, seemingly filled with some food. You smiled up at him.

"Can I join you?" Will's quiet voice filled the silence. You nodded and he pulled a chair next to you. "You've been studying for almost 4 hours, you know that right?"

"4 hours?" You repeated, it truly only felt like an hour - you were really engrossed in your work. Will's expression was one of concern as he observed your tired face.

"I got you some coffee and some food, I know you probably haven't had a snack in a while." Will smiled gently as he placed the coffee and the bag of snacks on the table in front of you. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pastries, instantly rejuvenating your senses. He was right, you had only had breakfast and it was 4 pm right now, you were starving.

"Thanks, Will," you said, offering him a genuine smile as you took a sip of the coffee. The warmth spread through you, both from the beverage and the genuine care he had shown. You noticed a small note attached to one of the coffee cups, and as you unfolded it, you found a handwritten message: You're doing amazing.

Your heart swelled. He was always so thoughtful and he made sure you were alright, he was someone you needed. His presence reminded you that amidst the chaos of deadlines and exams, there were moments of quiet joy and companionship to be cherished.

"Thank you, Will," you murmured, your voice soft with appreciation with a smile on your lips.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in response to your gratitude. "Anything for you," he replied, his tone gentle. "I know how hard you've been working, and I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. I'm proud of you, okay?"

You tried not to tear up, it had been awhile since someone had recognized your efforts. Will's words were like a balm to your weary heart, soothing the doubts and insecurities that often plagued your mind. His unwavering support was a beacon of light in the darkest of times, a constant reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "I couldn't do this without you."

His hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring. "You're stronger than you think," he said softly, his gaze unwavering. "And I'll always be here to remind you of that. Now, go ahead and finish up so we can go eat."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you wiped away the tears threatening to spill over. With a renewed sense of purpose, you turned back to your laptop, the weight of the assignments feeling just a bit lighter with his words echoing in your mind.

"What are you listening to?" Will spoke up again as you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Here, take an earbud."

"Ah, Taylor Swift. Not surprised." Will grinned as he took the headphone, putting it in his ear. "What song is this? Seven, right?"

"You studied your Taylor Swift well, Will." You smiled back.

He shrugged, "Yup, I did my homework. I like this song, by the way."

"Yeah, me too." You said, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through you at the shared moment of connection over music. It was moments like these, simple and unassuming, that made the challenges of school feel a little less daunting.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

"I love you." You spoke up again.

"To the moon and Saturn?"

You laughed and nodded. "To the moon and Saturn."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[cobrakaisb]

Idk if the request for the celly are still open, but if they are can you do 🃏 with will smith, something like one bed???

i made up names for some of the other guys gf LOL

“okay let’s go over this one more time, y/n and jenna are rooming together. then it’s will and gabe, and me and kailey,” ryan explains, looking at his friends as they stand around in the hotel lobby. everyone nods or responds in some way that shows they agree. you were fine rooming with jenna, so was your best friend and this trip was all about bonding time. and basically a couples retreat minus you and will, but whatever, you’d vowed to make it fun. besides, jenna and kailey promised not to leave you behind.

that promise did not last long.

“will? are you awake?” you whispered, knocking on his door. you heard someone shuffling around, but finally, the door opened. he was in nothing but basketball shorts, and his blonde hair was slightly ruffled. “sorry, did i wake you?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “no, what’s wrong?” he asked. “jenna and gabe are in our room,” you replied, and will moved to the side to let you in, understanding immediately.

“you can crash here if you want,” he offered, and you smiled. “i’d appreciate that,” you replied, waiting for him to close the door and lead you further into the room. his hand rested in the small of your back as he guided you towards the bed. “you can sleep here, i’ll take the couch,” he said, moving towards the tiny piece of furniture.

you immediately shook your head no. “you’ll be uncomfortable, let’s just share the bed. it’s not like we haven’t cuddled up before,” you stated, already pulling the covers back to climb under. will hesitated, but the sharp look in your eyes told him not to argue. he took the spot next to you, whispering a good night as you both fell asleep.

the next morning, you were woken up by jenna and gabe’s loud voices. you turned, trying to stay asleep, and ended up snuggling into will’s shoulder. it was then that you realized his arm was around you. you blinked, looking around the room.

“i thought you two weren’t together,” jenna teased.

[wildrangers]

This Town is Fake, But You're the Real Thing // Matt Smith

This is based on an anon ask from a few weeks ago requesting a story with Matt and a HOTD costar with an age gap. For context, reader is just shy of 30 to Matt's 41. It ended up being longer than expected but that's not shocking🙂

Tropes & Topics: miscommunication, mutual pining, will they/won't they, age gap, resolved angst, fluffy end

Word Count: 2.8K

You’d been dreading and anticipating this filming day for weeks now. You’d been cast as Alys in Season 2 of House of the Dragon and anxiety has been your primary emotion since you received the news. On the obvious side, the show’s massive and will ideally propel your career forward with dizzying speed after toiling away for a decade on small projects. A less obvious, more personal element of the matter is your equally long crush on Matt Smith. You’d first seen him as Doctor Who when you were a teen and you’d become madly infatuated. You nearly drove yourself mad while waiting for filming to start, trying to get your emotions under control before stepping on set. It helped and hurt that he’s such a lovely person in real life.

Within a week of signing your contract, a beautiful gift basket had arrived at your door. You’d curiously brought it inside and nearly dropped the champagne bottle when you found the note: Cheers to being scene partners soon! Can’t wait, Matt. Your first course of action was to tear into the chocolate covered strawberries and your second was to frantically call your manager to yell at her for hiding this surprise from you. You’d sent back a thank you note, which is how, somehow, you two became pen pals in the months leading up to filming. 

In your letters, you two discussed the show and your ideas for your character’s relationship dynamics all while Matt kindly provided guidance when you shared your anxieties about joining such a well-respected and beloved show. By the time you arrived on set, you felt more settled–Matt would be a professional support and colleague, your childish crush left in the past. After all, you’d had feelings for your teenage self’s idea of who Matt Smith was. This Matt is real, kind, your coworker, and 12 years your senior. 

All of this logic dissipated when you heard his painfully familiar voice calling your name across the set you were exploring before filming began. He quickly approached you, grinning broadly as he pulled you into a warm hug. You, thankfully, recovered your senses swiftly, returning his hug before somehow carrying on a normal conversation with him. Several months into filming now, that first day is a blur but you’d left a good enough first impression that you two became close throughout shooting. 

You clung to your logic, desperately fighting back the crush that was rapidly developing into actual feelings throughout this time. Your chemistry on set was palpable and mercurial but in your trailers or sharing a drink after work, your relationship was filled with laughter, stimulating conversation, and affection. You’d bonded over your love for horror movies, jokingly plotting one to star in together in the future. You respected him, this project, and yourself too much to risk all that you’d built for a relic from your teenagedom.

Or, at least that’s what you repeat in your mind as you pace nervously in your trailer, practicing your lines quietly to yourself. Today’s scene is the last for you two to shoot and it’s by far the most daunting for you mentally. Alys and Daemon have a tense relationship, clearly drawn together despite Daemon’s suspicions and Alys’ blurry intentions. This scene is the culmination of that tension and while nothing physically occurs between them, an emotional vulnerability is needed for it to be satisfying for the viewers. 

You hear a knock on your door as the PA summons you to set. You take a deep, steadying breath before following her onto the lot. Harrenhal’s lot is constantly damp and by the time you’re on the actual set, your dress is clinging uncomfortably to you. 

“There she is! How are you feeling, love?” Matt questions, squeezing your shoulders soothingly. 

“Nervous, you?” you admit and his smile turns downward.

“What’s making you nervous? How can I help?”

“It just feels like a big scene, that’s all.” 

“Darling, we’ve done so many big scenes. What else is going on?” he pushes and you sigh, nervously fidgeting with the ends of your wig. 

“I guess it’s weird this is it, you know? It’s been months of us working together and after today we’re basically done. It’s daunting, I want to make sure the relationship feels right at its conclusion for the season.”

“It will, I promise. You’re brilliant and we’ve worked so hard to cultivate this dynamic–we know exactly what to do together, yeah?”

“But do we?” you question and immediately regret it. His brows furrowed as you kick yourself for letting your confused personal feelings get in the way of the work. “Never mind, I’m just psyching myself out. You’re right, as always.”

Matt opens his mouth to reply but the director calls you to your marks and all you can do is squeeze his hand before going to your spot, closing your eyes and banishing yourself from your mind–you are Alys, he is Daemon, you two are fighting because tensions are coming to a head. 

You two do several takes but something feels off. You’re both hitting your lines and your marks but there’s something missing, which you’re obsessively trying to solve as shooting’s paused for lunch. As you finish up your smorgasbord of snacks, your favorite craft service meal, Matt approaches, his eyes focused on you. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his eyes tunneling into yours with an intensity you’ve never seen from him off camera. 

“Of course” you reply without hesitation and he nods. 

“I’m doing a slight improv, will you follow my lead?” 

“Of course” you repeat, just as the director calls you back to set. 

Your nerves have returned but you’re eager to see Matt’s idea play out–you’ve both improved different moments over the course of filming and they often lead to your best takes. 

The director calls action and your lines repeat as they have all day long. You’re lost in the moment, noting Matt approaching you much more closely than previously. This must be it–he wants more physical tension in the scene and you kick yourself for not thinking of it yourself. Suddenly, Matt’s hands roughly grab your arms pulling your chests flush together. 

Your gasp is real, as is the way your own hands rise to grip his shoulders as he towers over you. Your Alys brain kicks in and you switch to struggling against him, eager to get away from this man who could easily overpower you. 

“Don’t leave” he breathes out quietly, a line not in the script, his eyes earnest and glossy with emotion.

“You know as well as I why I must, no matter what we may…sense in one another” you ad-lib and though it fits Alys’ intentions, your own desires easily bleed through. 

“And what is it you sense in me?” 

“Danger…lust” you sigh, eyes instinctually dropping to his mouth. Your heart’s in your throat, this is the most you two have leaned into the characters’ sexual tension. “And what do you see within me?”

“Temptation…damnation” he replies fervently. You two hold each other’s gaze and you feel your eyes growing misty as are Matt’s before you. He begins to lean in and as much as you desperately want to give in, Alys would never, so you forcefully push your hands into his chest until a few feet separate you. 

Your breathing is labored, your face feels flushed, and you nearly forget the final scripted line that concludes the scene, “I told you you’d die in this castle, Daemon…I refuse to die with you.” 

A single tear escapes Daemon’s eyes and you turn on your heels, head high as you leave the room before the director yells “Cut! Holy shit you two, thank god we had coverage on both of you. That was perfect. I’m going to call Ryan to review the changes but that was brilliant. Hang tight for a few minutes, okay?” 

You nod, dizzy with emotion. You can’t force yourself to look in Matt’s direction, the vulnerability and intensity of the scene making you feel exposed. Instead, you stumble over to craft services asking for a mug of tea to settle your nerves. You take a deep swig and feel some of the tension leave your shoulders but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to follow their lead. You hear someone approaching and know before you hear his deep voice saying your name that it’s Matt. 

“Are you okay? Was that too much?” he questions and you force yourself to turn around.

“I’m fine, it was brilliant.”

“Then why do you look so shaken?” he questions, hands going to rest on your shoulders, as they have countless times over the last few months. You find yourself stepping out of his hold, feeling too raw to stomach being touched right now. Your thoughts are racing and your heart is pounding and being this close to him is too much. 

“It was just intense, that’s all.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” he agrees, his eyes boring into your face despite your refusal to meet his gaze. You simply nod, taking another sip of tea. 

“It felt real” you breath out and immediately regret it. “Sorry, that’s silly, I didn’t mean…” you trail off, unsure how to express all that you’re thinking and feeling right now. 

“I don’t think it’s silly” he replies quietly and you shut your eyes. You have to be imagining things, he can’t possibly be admitting to feeling similarly to you; it’s impossible, for countless reasons. You’re saved from responding by the director calling you back to set and you quickly walk past Matt, mug firmly in your grip as you try to steady yourself to appear professional.

“Ryan loved it guys, that’s a wrap on Daemon and Alys at Harrenhal for season two!” he cheers and the crew bursts into claps and whistles. You force a smile and express your gratitude towards the director and crew before quickly excusing yourself to your trailer, not waiting around to see what Matt has to say to everyone. 

Your team must feel your anxious energy because they get you out of costuming, hair, and makeup in record time. You say your farewells, frantically getting into one of the waiting cars that will whisk you away to your hotel. You regret, on some level, not saying goodbye to Matt but you promise yourself you’ll text him in the morning and meet for breakfast. 

As the elevator rises you text Emma, Hey, crazy day, room service together tonight?

You toss your phone on the bed without waiting for a reply, peeling off your clothes and jumping in the shower. You just need to wash this day away. Once you feel yourself fully reinhabiting your body again, you turn off the water, dry yourself, and do your skincare before changing into sweats. A knock sounds from your door and you feel more tension leaving your body as you go to answer it, assuming you’ll find Emma on the other side. 

Your heart stutters when you’re instead met by Matt’s anxious gaze, his hands feverishly running through his hair. “Matt?” 

“You just left” he replies, voice tight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I…I was tired, I just wanted to unwind” you say, offering this half truth. His intense stare makes you fear you aren’t convincing him. 

“Can I come in, please? Just for a moment. I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong.” 

You nod shallowly, stepping to the side before closing the door behind him. An awkward silence descends and you perch nervously on the foot of your bed. Your phone buzzes beside you and you glance over to see their reply Can’t sorry, I’ve got a night shoot–tomorrow?

“Do you need to get that?” Matt’s voice draws you back to the moment in front of you and you watch as he paces the floor.

“No, Matt, but can you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.” 

“I’m sorry, I just…I keep replaying that final take and what you said afterwards and how you disappeared and I can’t help but feel like I’ve crossed a line or upset you.”

“Matt, you heard the director, it was a brilliant move. It worked beautifully, why would that upset me?” 

“Because it felt real” he replies and you freeze at your own words repeated back to you. “But it couldn’t have been, could it? We were both in wigs and calling each other different names.” 

You don’t know what to say so Matt plows ahead, “Not when we’re friends and colleagues and I’m old enough to be your father.”

You're surprised by the snort that erupts from you, “Matt, that’s a little dramatic. You are not old enough to be my father for Christ’s sake.”

“Well I’m certainly too old to be your partner” he replies quietly, finally stopping his pacing with his back to you. “Far too old to kid myself into thinking you’d be interested in me that way.” 

You freeze, your breath stolen from your chest at his words. ��Matt?” you question tentatively, rising to place a gentle hand on his shoulder blade but he moves from your touch. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. See? I knew this was stupid and unprofessional and putting you in an uncomfortable position and I value our friendship but still went ahead and blew it up and–”

“Matt” you say firmly and he turns at the stern tone of your voice. His eyes are sad as they meet yours and the slump of his shoulders is so un-Matt-like that it breaks your heart a little. You step forward and place your hand to his cheek, a thrill racing through you as he closes his eyes, nuzzling into your touch. You stay like that for a moment, each of you seemingly nervous to break this fragile moment. Finally, he releases a deep breath and his hands land on your hips as his eyes open again. “This isn’t a good idea.” 

“Why?” he questions, stepping closer until your bodies are flush together.

You raise your other hand, gently moving a strand of hair out of his face, “Because I’m just…me and you’re…you’re you, Matt, and you’ll realize that quickly. You’ll also realize that even though I seem to have my life together, I’m ultimately just shy of 30 and still trying to figure shit out. You’re settled, you know who you are and what you want. I can’t offer you the same in return and that’s unfair.” 

Your admission hangs in the air between you for a long moment, “But you’d want to? If I told you I’m not remotely concerned about anything you just said?” 

“I would but only if you believe me when I tell you I think what you said before is bullshit too.” 

He smiles fondly at you, his calloused thumb rising to skim your cheekbone down to your chin, before raising to faintly trace the shape of your mouth. Your heart’s in your throat as you rise on your toes slightly, offering your parted lips to him in offering. His hand curls into your hair as he painstakingly slowly joins your lips together. 

Your heart settles at the rightness of the kiss, the care with which he handles you. He allows you to lead the way, your mouths learning the feel of each other before you brush your tongue against his mouth which he gladly opens to you. As your tongues twine, you surrender to the moment, fully leaning your weight into him as you pull him as close as humanly possible. He returns your eagerness with his own and you’re pleased at the soft groan that falls from his lips into yours. When you finally pull away, he drops his forehead to yours as you catch your breaths that mingle in the air between you. 

The peaceful moment stretches onward, neither of you wanting to end it. However, your stomach finally does as it rumbles loudly causing Matt to laugh. “I always tell you, just snacking all day is not enough, darling.”

“It’s not snacking, it’s a personalized charcuterie board” you protest, chuckling at this long-standing disagreement. 

“Room service? I can’t bear the thought of not being within two feet of you the rest of the night” he says and you nod, chuckling at his admission. 

“First Omen?” you question and he scoffs, pulling you onto the bed with him as he grabs the remote.

“Absolutely not, we’re watching the original first” he insists and you hum your assent, curling into his side and you’re struck by how natural it feels. “Youth, these days” he sighs, jokingly. 

“You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you Matthew?” 

His only response is to giggle and place a soft kiss to your temple before picking up the phone to order you both a feast.

Matt taglist (message or comment to be added!): @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover @decaffeinatedparadisepost

Side note: Part Three of my ongoing Matt series is written, I'm just editing and planning what comes next before posting