ive felt the overwhelming need to rave about beauty and the beast since i saw it a few days ago. **SPOILERS**
lets begin from the start
it would’ve been hard to go wrong with cast members like Emma Watson, Josh Gad, etc. i had extremely high hopes and was not disappointed
Dan Stevens (beast) deserves some appluase for being able to wear that amazingly ridiculous makeup in the opening scene (i fucking loved it)
the question of how the hell this village that is within a days ride of the enchanted castle is completely oblivious to its existence is explained
they give Gaston a reason to be so creepily obsessed with Belle. i mean that doesn’t justify his behavior at all, but still. he’s just come back from a war and is clearly still exhibiting behavior (violence, dominance, desire) that are products of being at war.
LEFOU !!!!!, i knew i would love Josh Gad in this role. “but she’s so well-read and you’re so….athletically inclined”
they didn’t alter the core story/plotpoints from the original but instead, added some amazing content that really fills many of the holes from the original and more.
Emma Watson’s portrayal of Belle is just phenomenal, she keeps the essence of the character while fleshing out some things that Belle sort of had (defiance, courage, wit) that were only hinted at in the original.
We get a pretty plausible reason for the absence of Belle’s mother, and it explains why Maurice is a little bit odd.
BEAST HAS A REASON FOR IMPRISONING MAURICE. its a stupid one. but at least its something. it always bothered me in the original that Beast locked Maurice up for no apparent reason other than the fact Maurice trespassed (to escape horrible weather mind you) and sat in his favorite chair???? at least here its because Maurice steals a rose (i said it wasn’t a very good reason). i also believe this concept is from the ORIGINAL story written by the french novelist
Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve (don’t quote me on that though)
MAURICE HAS AN ACCURATE REACTION
(RUNNING OUT TERRIFIED) TO FINDING OUT OBJECTS IN THE CASTLE CAN MOVE AND TALK
Ewan McGregor and Ian McKellan don’t need explanation for being amazing. (someone better invent immortality before Sir Ian McKellan meets his fate)
Belle is badass, she TRICKS her father so that she can take his place because she fucking loves him so goddamn much
Belle also has an accurate reaction to objects being able to move and talk. throwing a stool at them.
the question of HOW the fUCK Belle got Beast up onto Philippe after the wolf attack on her own is finally solved (thank god that even bothered me as a child)
we are told why the servants care for Beast so much even though he’s kinda dickwad AND we are told why he’s such a dickwad, not just cause he that’s who he is but because his father fucked him up
Belle knows about the spell. not how to break it, but she knows that it exists and she knows that a human is behind all the anthropormorphic objects and Beast which makes it A LOT less weird that she falls in love with Beast. In the original, she knows the castle is enchanted but she has no idea about the spell so it’s kinda weird she falls in love with (what she thinks) is just a freak of nature.
BEAST HAS A PERSONALITY AND ITS BEAUTIFUL AND SNARKY AND I LOVE IT HE TRIES TO BEFRIEND PHILIPPE ITS ADORABLE
for some reason, it feels as if Belle in Beast know each other for a lot longer in the remake than the original which is nice.
i will now take the time to rave about the music. it’s beautiful. the original songs are gorgeous and everything they added to them (altered words and such) make them better. i havent stopped listening to the soundtrack
all newly composed songs are so good and fantastic additions
EVERMORE (song sung by Beast when Belle is freed from him) HAD ME SOBBING, HIS VOICE PENETRATED MY SOUL
Maurice and Belle are badass as fuck, i swear, partners in crime getting themselves out of the carriage so that Belle can go warn Beast. i died when Maurice just casually handed the asylum guy the picked lock.
BELLE RIDES WITH PURPOSE YAS
of course i have to note i was all for the gay lefou storyline
i feel as though i have probably missed some things but that about sums up my thoughts. I could go on about the technical side of it and commend the amazing CGI but that’s a whole other story that would just make this post longer than it already is.
i was so hesitant about remakes when Disney started doing them, but if the rest of them can be to this caliber - sign me up.
Genre: Angst, Smut, and a sprinkle of fluff, pianist!y/n, AU
Word Count: 9.5k *high pitched screaming*
Summary: “Love is so short, but forgetting is so long.”
A/N: So. This is the second time I’ve rewritten it, have worked on this
version for three months and am fINALLY happy with the way it turned out. It
somehow turned grossly mushy at the end, but maybe that’s just the product of
my pent up bitterness from the hell that was Valentine ’s Day. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (partially edited, excuse the errors)
At the start, the phrase “It will pass with time”
was something you had clung desperately to like a life raft. Words not uncommon
to the hurt and heartbroken, you hoped such a miracle would apply to you too,
despite the fact that you were the one who inflicted the pain. Did God forgive
this form of self-harm? For three long years, you had foolishly believed in
such a concept. As you grew more preoccupied, thoughts of him faded with each
passing day, only to interrupt your transition to forgetting during the most
mundane of instances; getting stuck in traffic, or waiting on a laundry load.
The worst times were at night when you began to ponder the many what ifs; what
if you hadn’t visited him that day, what if Jimin hadn’t shown up that morning,
what if you had stayed? Just exactly how far would that have gone? When you
were plagued with such thoughts, you simply plugged in your earbuds and played
on repeat whatever piece you were working on until you could drift into a
fitful sleep. With time, it had gotten easier to forget your time with Jeon
Jungkook or to pretend to do so; to lie to yourself and others.
And then the night of your professional debut, the spell was
You haven’t seen him in three long years and it’s unfair how good
Happy, happy birthday, @raindrop-rouge. May your day be filled with laughter, smiles, cake, tea, bubbles, and everything good. This is for you. <3
“You are beautiful,” Eren says one night, his soft-spoken words cutting sharply through the quiet darkness surrounding them and making Levi blink open his eyes to meet a pair of shining eyes that regard him intently.
A contradictory frowns forms on his brow, disagreeing and puzzled. Levi isn’t vain, but he knows his body is too small for a grown man, forged by a life on the streets that only taught him how to survive, leaving behind nothing but broad muscles on too feminine limbs, and a too translucent skin paled by an ongoing lack of sunlight and proper nutrition. His movements are sharp and directed, efficient and precise. Not round and smooth like Eren’s.
His face isn’t pretty either, with the droopy eyes that are too small and colourless, half-lidded, shadowed, and bruised by too many restless nights and cruel days, by sorrows and grief and loss, with his pitch black hair that stands too much in contrast to his bloodless skin. His cheekbones are too prominent, his lips thin and chapped. His beard, if he could grow a decent one, would be patchy and just as odd-looking as he is himself. Something that should have been more than it is.
His hands are petite and calloused, his feet cicatrised after years and years of being tied to the straps. His back is marked by them as well, his neck too thin and aching from the weight on his shoulders.
Words don’t come easy to him, and when they do they are harsh and curt and vulgar, and too often not what he really wants to say. His personality is jagged and his spirit jaded, his core blackened by blood and broken beyond repair.
A life in the darkness has made his body strong at least, battered and branded, but powerful and chiseled as well. It’s making him capable of dealing with whatever is thrown their way, able to do his best to protect. He’s a weapon, edged and deathly and violent.
And yet he can see it in Eren’s eyes that meant every word. Their green and blue is paled by the silvery light of the moon and the lingering traces of sleep, but their intensity is just the same as always, conveying nothing but serious honesty and openness.
Levi swallows and reaches out with a rustle of the bed sheets to brush over a prominent, brown eyebrow, a stubbled cheek, a soft bottom lip that wraps around his fingertips to catch them in a kiss.
Eren, Levi knows, isn’t really what others would call a raving beauty either. His hair is mouse brown and mussy all the time—a wild beast like its owner, always vivid and fighting against an invisible force, stubbornly defying anyone’s will in untidy strands that beg to be touched and caressed and ruffled—or combed—, but also daring to try. His skin is tanned by spending his whole life under the merciless sun, the fading stripes around his neck and wrists dividing the parts where the heat kisses him every day from the part that’s always hidden under his clothing.
Despite all of Eren’s hardship there is no single scar on his body, making it into something that shouldn’t really exist, something dangerous and surreal, something barbarous and threatening, something contradictory.
Then there are his eyes. Not quite as big as they once used to be, but still as expressive. Two shiny, burning flames of neither green nor blue and somehow both, that haven’t lost their feral fire over the years and oddly stand out in that still boyish face that should be much more tarnished than it is. They are just as unnatural as the rest of him.
He is perilous and an oxymoron simply by existing, by still living and breathing. He’s abnormal.
And yet, to Levi, this man is beautiful. Gorgeous even. And then some.
Eren’s pulse is speeding up under Levi’s touch, making him think silly things and dream against all odds. Eren’s body is pristine and warm, teaching Levi that time heals all wounds—at least the ones one can see—and that there is hope. The fury that has once dominated Eren’s features has abated, cooled down into a dangerous, unstable simmer that will never leave completely, and yet every time he holds Levi Eren’s hands are gentle and kind, even when the hunger between them boils over into a rough, all-consuming need.
They trace Levi’s ugly scars as if they were saying hello to a dear, old friend and when they come to rest against the nape of Levi’s neck the fingers begin to play with the stubbles of his undercut in caressing circles like it is everything they ever wanted to do.
When Eren looks at him his eyes are like a pair of gems that seem to have a direct link to Levi’s soul, unyielding, endearing, and enticing, gazing at Levi and laying him bare as if he was the answer to all of Eren’s hopes and dreams, the remedy for all his sorrows and tears, a guiding light through the darkest of times. Levi looks back and Eren holds him there, steady and unwavering, until Levi can feel the blush rising on his chest, his arms, his neck, his cheeks, and ears until the cool night begins to sting on his skin.
“Bastard,” he whispers, and Eren chuckles. Pokes Levi’s nose. Snuggles closer. Smiles. Fills the world with colours and ease.
His laugh is like the sun glistening on the ocean’s surface on that early spring day, fickle and warming, dancing and cheering, lively and vast, lifting and grounding at the same time, like listening to the water caressing the shore in affectionate waves and to the breeze whispering through the marram grass nearby whilst feeling the sand under his naked feet. It’s like seeing the open planes and birds for the first time, stunningly green and too much, yet never enough all at once.
Levi has seen a lot of strange things in his life, but the one laying right next to him in their bed must be the strangest of them all. A miracle.
And he understands.
Beauty isn’t really something you see or that you can measure like tea leaves for the perfect cup.
It’s something that can only be experienced in its entity, something so simple as blinking against the overpowering daylight after nothing but darkness and something so complicated as trying to count the stars up in the sky after being enclosed by clay and dirt for a whole lifetime.
He still doesn’t know what it is that makes Eren look at him like he does. But when Eren pulls him into his arms to hold him against his beating heart and kiss the top of his head, their legs intertwining and their bodies sharing that wonderful heat close-close-closer, he knows it’s Eren’s right to see more than the eyes let on, just as it is his own, and he won’t question it, just as Eren doesn’t in return.
Eren isn’t one to make false promises. Everything he is and does screams blatant honesty and commitment, and yet Levi expects with every passing day that Eren will change his mind eventually.
But this is Eren and the world will cease to exists when he stops loving like he does, with everything he’s got. As long as he’s let he’ll press his velvety smile against Levi’s frown, and pass a silent promise with sweet brushing of lips, meeting of tongues, and connection of something Levi hasn’t found a name for yet.
He seizes it nonetheless and wraps it around his heart, makes it his armour and his shield.
Even though he doesn’t know how long it will last he at least has this and the knowledge that once someone chose him and thought him perfect in all his flaws.
He looks into these too sparkling eyes and smiles, letting himself fall as they begin to count the stars.
A/N: So, for
those who didn’t see my update, I totally broke my computer and lost
everything, so I need to re-type all of my fics… FML, right? I’m
gunna use my mom’s computer, but it’s a piece of shit! Thank you for
being patient with me! I wrote this short, little fic to hold you over until I
can retype everything! Xoxo!
Anyways, I was on YouTube, watching “Momma has a breakdown!
Unseen Moments!” from KKandBabyJ’s family vlog (Karen and Khoa with their
babies: Jackson and Landon) and Karen was crying from pregnancy hormones and
that clip in the video gave me this idea!
Shitty Summary: Reader
is 35 weeks pregnant. There are tears. Lots of tears.
“Seriously, child? Again?” You muttered at your belly, making
your way to the bathroom.
This was your fourth trip to the bathroom since you had
gotten back from the grocery store, a few hours prior.
The baby that was nestled within your belly was supposedly
the size of a Honeydew Melon, but it felt like someone had put a fucking
bowling ball in your uterus and was trying to crush your bladder. Damn you, Steve Rogers, for your Michael
Phelps swimmers. You had to pee all
the time! Your boobs hurt, you had stretchmarks starting to form on your
body, you couldn’t see your feet anymore, and when you sneezed, you’d pee. When
you laughed, you’d pee. When you’d cough… You’d
Where the fuck is this
beautiful glow people fucking rave about?
You and Steve had just gotten married when you had found out
that you were pregnant. You hadn’t realized, because you had been on birth control,
but you kept getting morning sickness and were tired all the time. So, you went to your doctor, who confirmed you were
pregnant. (That was when you remembered that you had missed your appointment
for a birth control shot by a week, due to a mission.) You were so excited that
you ran to the store, bought a Captain America baby onesie, and gave it to him
as a gift.
He burst into tears when he understood what it meant.
He was so excited that he called a team meeting and blabbed
to everyone. He couldn’t contain his excitement,
and almost announced it without you in the room.
Now, at 35 weeks, you were miserable.
Still excited, but miserable.
Your pregnancy hormones were insane. You cried all the time. What didn’t help, was you
also had effects from the super soldier serum that was running through your
child’s veins. You were constantly breaking things. What sucked was that was
the only effect. You were still clumsy, emotional, tired, and the baby broke
one of your ribs from kicking. The only thing you got from the serum was the
ability to break shit.
“Y/n, honey, the team is back!” Steve called from the other
room. “The guys and I are going to watch the game in the living room!”
You washed your hands and waddled back into the communal
kitchen to grab your bottled water. You leaned your hands against the counter
as the baby shifted around in your belly. “Jesus, kid, get any bigger and you’ll
be exploding out of me.” You grunted, taking in a sharp, painful breath as the
baby’s foot grazed your rib. “Ow! Fuck.” You continued to take deep breaths, leaning
forward to press your forehead against the counter.
“You okay, Y/n?” Natasha asked from the doorway to the
kitchen – running to you once she saw you hunched over, rubbing a soothing hand
up and down your spine.
“I’m fine.” You sighed, standing back up, “The baby just
kicked me in the ribs.”
She chuckled, moving her hand so it rested on your swollen
belly, “You hurry up and grow, so you can stop giving Auntie Nat a heart
attack.” She looked up at you, “Want to go watch the guys fight over the game?”
“Yeah, sure, let me just bring the cookies I made earlier.”
You smiled, waddling into the pantry, “The baby wants cookies. Not sure where he
gets it from.” You joked, full knowing that the sugar loving came from Steve.
You were more of a salt lover.
gasped in astonishment, “I thought you wanted to keep it a surprise?”
“I did.” You said, sheepishly taking a bite of a cookie and
setting the plate on the counter, “But I couldn’t wait. So, now it is a
surprise to everybody but you, me, and my doctor.” You smiled down at your son
nestled in your belly, “I can’t wait to see Steve’s reaction when the baby is
She chuckled, walking over and wrapping you in her small,
muscular arms, “So much for naming your child after me. Nathaniel is already
You shook your head with a laugh, “Clint already named his
kid after you. You’re getting greedy.”
Picking the plate back up, you guys made your way through
the kitchen – you much slower than Nat – and into the living area where the men
were crowded onto the couches, already yelling over the game. You were mid-bite
when, suddenly, something slammed into your leg. Fucking coffee table! Letting out a yelp, you squeezed the plate
and it shattered in your hand. The pieces went crashing to the floor and
Natasha’s arms were steadying you, since your balance was off.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Steve jumped off the couch,
running over as the group of men paused the game and stood up in a panic.
“My cookies!” You shrieked,
tears pricking at your eyes. Oh, god. Don’t
cry. Don’t cry.
Natasha let out a breathy laugh of relief, letting go to pick up the
shattered pieces of the plate.
You burst into tears.
“I’m sorry!” You cried, covering your face with your hands
as the sobs started getting borderline hysterical. “I made those cookies for
you guys, too!”
Steve wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards the
kitchen, “Don’t worry about the cookies, Doll. We can make more.” He walked you
both over to the chairs in the kitchen and sat down in one, pulling you onto
his lap, “Shh. It’s alright.”
You threw your arms around his waist and hid your face in
his sweater as the hormonal sobs started to get worse. You couldn’t stop
crying. You didn’t even know why you were crying so hard, but you felt like
there were still so many things to cry about.
It was confusing.
Which made you
“Hey,” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you tighter and
planting a kiss on your temple, “Why are you crying like this?” You tried to
answer, but your voice was muffled by his sweater. “I didn’t hear a word of
what you just said, doll.”
You turned your face a little so your messy, red face was
slightly visible, “There are so many things, Steve!” You wailed, feeling a
headache coming on, “I broke the plate, the c-coffee table is in a bad spot, I
dropped t-the cookies, I can’t see my feet, it was raining t-today, and I can’t
find my favorite pajama pants… I- I- I just-” You turned your face back into
his sweater as the sobs got louder and more hysterical.
“That’s why you’re
crying?” He chuckled, running his hand soothingly up and down your back.
“It’s not funny!” You whined against his chest, trying to
wipe the steady stream of tears leaking from your eyes with your hand, “These
are real issues, Steve!”
He closed his mouth, opting to press a kiss against the top
of your head, instead. Then, he moved his mouth close to your ear, “I’m sorry
for laughing, doll.”
“You should be.” You pouted, shifting so that your ear was
against his chest to hear his heartbeat. You sniffed, wiping under your nose
with your sleeve as your sobs turned to hiccups.
“I love you.” He brushed your hair away from your face,
placing another kiss on your forehead.
Stop being cute, you
“I love you, too.” You sniffled, closing your eyes as the
tears finally stopped, “Even if you turned me into an incubator who can’t see
her own feet and cries a lot.”
He laughed, and suddenly there was a scrape of a chair being
pulled up next to you.
It was Bucky. “I brought you my secret stash of cookies.” He
whispered, handing you a package of Girl Scout cookies. “Don’t tell Sam.”
You felt tears prick at your eyes, again. “Oh my gosh, Girl
Scout cookies!” The crying started in, once again. Fucking hormones.
“Come on, man, I just got her to stop crying!” Steve
complained, rolling his head back in exasperation.
You slapped him on the shoulder, “These are happy tears, you
jerk!” You turned to Bucky, grabbing his hand – the vibranium one – and smiling,
“Thank you, Bucky.”
“Does this mean you are naming your kid after me?” He asked
with a wink, squeezing your hand gently in comfort.
“Hey!” You hear Nat shout from the living area, “They are
naming their kid after me!”
“You already have a kid named after you!” He shouted back, getting
up and walking into the room to argue with her.
“We aren’t naming him after Bucky, either.” You rolled your
“Wait!” Steve gasped, leaning back to look at you in shock, “Him?”
“Shit!” You yelled, covering your face with your hands in
shame, “I was going to keep it a surprise!” Cue
the tears. God DAMMIT, Y/n! Stop it!
His look of astonishment turned into glee, “I’m having a
son!” His blue eyes were a little misty, and his thousand dollar smile was filled with happiness.
“Yes, you’re having a son.” You said with watery eyes, and a
wobbly smile after seeing the look of pure joy on his face. “I was thinking of
naming him Grant.” You wiped your hot face with your sleeve, finally getting
the stupid crying under control, “He could be named after his dad. Grant
“Hey!” You hear Bucky and Natasha shout from the living
You let out a laugh, and Steve pressed his lips against
yours in a long – but chaste – kiss, moving a hand down to where your son was
resting in your swollen belly. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you.” You replied, laying your head back down on his
chest while he caressed your belly. “And you, little Grant Rogers.”
“What about Grant Nathaniel Rogers?” Natasha yelled, a laugh
in her voice.
Tags: (I do permanent tags, if you want to join the party! *wink*)
Pairings: Dean x reader & (kind of) Chuck Bass x reader Words: 997 Part: 1/? Warnings: None that I’m aware of. Summary: You live in the Upper East Side of New York and run into your high school sweetheart, Dean who you haven’t seen in years. A/N: This is a cross-over between Gossip Girl and Supernatural that I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, you don’t need to know anything about Gossip Girl and there won’t be any spoilers (if there are I’ll put it in the warning) I hope you guys enjoy it, this part was a little bland due to its just the beginning. Feedback on if you want me to continue this series would be much appreciated!
Hundreds of people chat amongst you, none of which speak to you. Elegant people sway together in tune with the quiet orchestra, snobby women boss around waiters and rich men smoke cigars and gloat about their new investments.
You watch them from your corner, isolated from their world. No matter how many times you practiced walking in your heels, or how many galas you attended, or how much you spent on fine dresses, you felt as if you’d never fit in. This wasn’t your world, it was merely an extended vacation you’d spend an eternity in, the luxury life was enchanting, but you still yearn for something more.
With a sigh you set your champagne glass down causing the crystal to sing when it hits the table, you pinch your golden gown and raise your dress to maneuver around fellow guests, your stilettos click against the hardwood beneath you as you make your way towards the exit.
You squeeze through laughing bodies and ignore catcalls from drunk men, wanting to be as far away as possible. Without warning, a body slams against you, you murmur hushed apologies to the stranger while trying to regain your balance.
“Y/N?” you lock with the green orbs you haven’t seen in years.
“Dean?” your voice was barely audible, in awe at the gorgeous man in front of you. You open your mouth to speak but no words could form, he seems just as surprised as you, his eyes wander all over your body taking in your appearance. “I was just about to go get some fresh air,” your voice gets lost somewhere in the background noise, but he heard you clearly, “Would you like to join me?” you invite, he nods in response following you out of the crowded room.
The air nips at your arms when the both of you step into the night and out of the noise, Dean shrugs off his suit jacket and sets the fabric around your shoulders, you give him a hushed ‘thank you’ not denying the warmth. “There’s a diner not too far from here, would you like dinner?” Dean shoves his hands into his pockets to keep them from the chilly air, you suddenly feel guilty for taking his jacket.
“Dinner sounds great.” the walk to the diner was filled with an awkward silence neither of you knew how to break. Car horns wail into the night, voices fill the air, and loud music pools out of open windows and into the wind. You pass rows of sleeping houses and busy night clubs, you were surrounded by pavement and it felt as if either of you weren’t allowed to leave.
A bell chimes as you enter the diner, a familiar smile greets you when you step into the dimly lit building. “Y/N, it’s great to see you again!” a plump woman jabbers behind the counter.
“Hello, Maria, it’s as if you didn’t see me just last week.” Maria hobbles over to the menus and leads you two towards your usual spot.
“I never seat anyone here but my favorite customer,” Maria whispers to Dean and shoots you a wink before making her way back to the front of her restaurant.
“I come here a lot,” you explain seating yourself from across Dean, “To get away from the noise, to feel like I’m at home again.” You open your menu as Dean situates himself. “So tell me, Mr. Winchester,” you look up already knowing what you’re going to order, “What brings you to the Upper East Side of New York?”
“I’m working on a case, I’m a detective.” he explains placing his menu to the side, ready to order.
“Oh really? That sounds interesting, do you travel a lot for your job or are you usually in one place?” you question.
“I’ve traveled all over the country, but usually they keep me local back in Lawrence.” just the sound of your hometown made your heart ache. Maria appears handing you both waters and quickly scribbling down Dean’s order, not bothering to ask you what you wanted, for she already knew the answer. “You’re married?” Dean’s voice falters, your eyes follow his stare, right to your hand exposing an exquisite diamond. Disappointment buries in your stomach, suddenly wishing Dean never saw the jewel.
“Engaged,” you admit, not daring to meet his eyes.
“He’s a lucky man.” a thick silence covered you both, this time only momentarily. “Well, what’s new besides that you’re a bride-to-be?” you clear the awkwardness out of your throat, excited to tell him what you’ve accomplished in the past few years.
“I graduated from Yale like I planned, I got my masters in English. At the end of senior year, I published one of my books and it became a bestseller and now I’m here.” your hand motions around the nearly empty room referencing New York. “I met Chuck shortly after I moved here and everything worked out I suppose.” you look down at the ring he gave you, you couldn’t even muster a smile.
“Are you happy?” he inquired,
“Excuse me?” your head leans to the side, not understanding his question.
“Are you happy?” his question hits somewhere deep inside you, it breaks open a wall you’ve glued shut ever since you arrived in the Upper East Side of New York. You always assumed you were, how couldn’t you be? You have an abundance of money, an extremely successful job, a gorgeous home, a fiancé who’s been nothing but great towards you. What was missing?
“I don’t know.” you admit, “I feel like I just need a break, I need to get away from New York and work. I want to feel like a person again.” Dean nods along as you ramble on.
“I’m going back to Lawrence tomorrow morning, why don’t you come back with me and spend a week or so there and come back?” he offers.
“I think I need that,” you nod at his idea, opening up a new conversation, already tired of hearing about yourself.
Over the course of the meal you learn about everything you’ve missed over the past years, Sam recently got engaged to a beautiful girl Jess, Dean raves about how perfect she is for his little brother. He mentions John and Mary’s wedding anniversary is the coming weekend and couldn’t wait for them to see you again. The night was filled with long conversations and bad jokes as if nothing had changed since high school, you almost forgot it had.
You were the last couple to stumble out of Maria’s diner, your laughter fills the chilly air around you, Dean shares stories of past cases you couldn’t believe to be true and you rave about crazy frat parties you used to attend, the awkwardness evaporates with each passing laugh and each passing story.
The dreaded moment came all too soon, you find yourself standing outside of the apartment building you call home, the laughter subsides and frowns curl on both of your lips. Dean clears his throat and pushes the large glass door open for you. The lobby air was warm against your skin, the only sound arises from the fountain in the center of the large room. Dean’s eyebrows raise at the luxury space he stands in, unacquainted with the normalities of the Upper East Side.
“I guess this is goodbye until morning.” You turn to the boy you once loved, for a moment he looks the same, you see the same cheekbones and the same smile, you still get captivated by the brilliance of his green eyes. “This is yours,” you remove his jacket exposing your bare arms once again.
“I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning, we’ll grab coffee or something before we head to the airport.” Dean explains taking his jacket from you, “You looked stunning tonight, as always.” he leans close to your ear, placing a quick kiss to your cheek before turning out of the building and back to wherever he’s staying for the evening.
You step out of the elevator door and into your home sneaking in as quietly as you could, your dress drags behind you as you step out of your heels and onto the tile. You maneuver in the darkness not wanting to wake your sleeping groom as you make your way into the bathroom. You tear off the expensive fabric and toss it to the side of the large space, you rip out hair accessories, and scrub your face free of makeup until it feels almost raw. You stare at the girl you once knew but only a stranger stands before you, you search for the girl you once were and for a moment you swear you found her, but she’s gone as soon as she came, she leaves you feeling more alone than before.
You slip into a nightgown and into the sheets beside Chuck who stirs awake at your sudden presence. “There you are, where have you been?” his voice croaks, his throat unfamiliar with his voice.
“I needed to get some air.” you lie, pulling the sheets over the both of you, “I’m having major writer’s block and need to escape New York for the week, I’m flying to Paris tomorrow morning.” his arms snake around you, pulling your body closer to his own.
“Okay darling, anything for you.” he kisses your ear softly before falling back into a deep slumber. You stare into the darkness aching for sleep that refuses to come, your phone buzzes on the night table, illuminating the bedroom with light.
“Tonight was great, see you tomorrow. -D”
You smile at his simple words remembering the late night conversations you would have often with the same man so long ago. Your eyes flutter slowly and soon you drift off into a deep sleep thinking about the boy you’ve never stopped loving.
Title: He made it feel right Characters: Halfdan the Black, Reader Warning: NSFW. Explicit Content. No time for plot, straight PWP (18+). Summary: Halfdan lets you shave his head. The control – or the lack of it – excites you both.
done,” you say in approval, letting your fingers glide over Halfdan’s
freshly shaven half of his head. You swirl the blade between your
fingers before dipping it into the bowl of water to soak away the oils
you had used.
Outside, the camp was buzzing with people eager to
make good use of the first in many days the sun dared to push herself
through the thick autumn clouds. With half a step, you poked your head
out from behind the make-do curtains to feel its warmth yourself. You
took in a deep breath of fresh air and exhaled all the tension that had
remained in your body over the last days. A smile tugged at your lips
when you felt Halfdan’s big hands slither from the little of your back,
passed your hips only to take hold around your waist pulling you back
inside. He guided you down on his lap and you cocked your head, raising
your eyebrows in fake surprise. With a laugh Halfdan let his hands
wander over your thighs, knowing the effect his hands had on you even
without touching where you wanted him most. Looking you over, Halfdan’s
eyes came to a halt at your chest, taking in the soft curves as if
looking upon a newly found map. Your heart responded, harshly beating
against your chest cage and you hoped he didn’t notice. Not yet did you
want him to feel in control. You enjoyed the short moments he pretended
you were worthy of a challenge. After a moment of agonizing silence,
Halfdan pecked a kiss of appreciation on the exposed skin of your chest.
“Did you spill any blood, my raving beauty?” he asked, lips still hovering over your skin. It was a game.
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The waters of Storybrooke were warmer, signaling the change
in the seasons. This wouldn’t have bothered the young merman if it weren’t for the
tingling sensation creeping through his tail and gills which undoubtedly meant
that it was the beginning of mating season, not just for the creatures of the
sea, but also for the very few merfolk left in the oceans.
Rumple frowned at the thought of the upcoming season. He had
never been very successful when it came to finding a mate. Mermaids were very
finnicky when it came to choosing their mates, being that they mated for life
and had countless offspring. They strived for the mermen with the thickest arms
and shiniest tales which Rumple, with his strong but wiry arms and torn tail
with missing scales, lacked.
After countless years of rejections and sneering from the
stronger mermen, Rumple had given up on ever finding a mate to spend the rest
of his days with. He had learned to live in a lonely but not unsatisfying
existence among the sea life, protecting the turtles and dolphins from nets and
trash the humans carelessly dumped, ignoring the tingles and trembling that
signaled it was time to mate.