but you are flawless none the less

So there’s this long list of prompts, and I love all of them, so I’m going to do a bunch of them completely unprompted.

Number One: “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”


“I can’t believe this is your dirty secret.”

Boyd raised his eyebrows, adjusting his belt. “What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know, scrapbooking? Ballroom dance? Secret piccolo prodigy?” Stiles tried to shimmy the massive wedgie out of his buttcrack, but it just slipped in further. God damn it. He was wearing way too many layers to go after it, at least two of them chainmail.

“Piccolo?” Boyd’s tone itself wasn’t threatening, but picking up a broadsword and sheathing it on his belt certainly was. It was much bigger than Stiles’ sword, that was for sure.

“Come on, dude. Do you really not see the irony of a literal werewolf LARPing? And not as a werewolf? You wouldn’t even need prosthetics!”

“It’s not roleplaying if you’re just being yourself.”

“Okay, but why roleplay when you’re already a badass? Let’s face it, if anyone here should be roleplaying, it’s the pack human who doesn’t have superpowers.”

“They aren’t superpowers!” Derek’s usual reflex response came from behind the curtain, and then he added, “Are you sure you didn’t give me Kira’s outfit?”

Boyd rolled his eyes like they were the ones being unreasonable here. “Yes, I’m still sure. Come out.”

Stiles couldn’t actually hear it, but it was like a sixth sense by now; he knew Derek sighed before yanking back the crookedly hanging sheet that served as a dressing room in a corner of their massive canvas pack tent.

“So, the skirt is supposed to be this short.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Pardon me, Mod H, can you be inclined to share your thoughts on the Cursed Child? All your thoughts? In a detailed, well written essay? Or just a large collection of shitposts?

M8 I’ve already done the series of shitposts. You’re getting a rambly bullet point list, and you’re gonna like it!

Ok so this is going under a cut for those who don’t want spoilers (basically under the cut will spoil nothing that you can’t read in the script book and my opinions, then there will be an extra bit at the end for stuff I genuinely was surprised by under an extra spoiler warning.)

Tl;dr, I really liked it, and though there’s still huge issues with the script imo it was a very well-done show, the performances were excellent and it looked amazing. It’s a great experience and if you get the chance to see it, don’t pass it up.

Keep reading

Got7 Reacting To You Feeling Conscious About Your Stretchmarks.

SOOOOOO…… this is my first time doing a reaction, so I apologise if they suck haha. 

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Request:  howdy partner i would like to request the boys reactions to you being self conscious about your stretch marks :) thank you if you do it love 💕

I am going to change it a little and make it that either a media outlet of fans were causing the problem. ;3

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Mark

He would walk up to you sitting on your couch furrowing your brow. A frown creeping onto your face. When he asked you what was wrong you would show him what the fans were saying about how you had a stretch mark on your leg in one of your recent photos with him. 

You would tell him how you didn’t feel good enough to be with someone like him since you have these ugly markings on your upper thighs and legs. He would place his finger on your hand and tell you to stop talking before kissing your forehead and kneeling in front of you. He would then tell you how much he loved every part of you as his fingers traced over every one of your stretch marks, making you blush. 

Originally posted by blueberryhouse

JB

He would pick up on your difference in behaviour almost immediately. He noticed you didn’t want to go out, and if you did go out you could cover up completely. 

After a nice dinner one night you would return home and he would bring it up asking if you have been feeling self-conscious about anything lately. To which you would try to lie but he wouldn’t buy it but figured you would tell him when you were ready. 

When he was a practice later Bambam would ask how you were doing and how you were taking everything that the media has been saying about you lately. Jb would look confused, to which Bambam showed Jb the article talking about your stretch marks on your arms and how bad they looked. 

He would call you at once, by his voice you could tell how upset he was about it, saying he was going to talk to the company about it and get the article taken down. To which you said it was ok but he knew you were still upset. 

Once he arrived home he would hug you tightly and kiss you everywhere, your lips, forehead and all your stretch marks and he would start doing this randomly whenever he noticed you covering up from then on out. 

Originally posted by sugaglos

Jackson

He would also be one to pick up quickly to your change in behaviour, only he would find out a lot faster then JB would. 

When he found out he would rally the rest of the members and they would all try to make you feel better.

He would make a lot of videos to the fans telling them that every part of them is beautiful and that even scars are beautiful, the fans would realise why he was posting so much was because of what the media has been saying about your stretch marks, they would send you loving messages and try to cheer you up and show as much support as they could. 

Jackson would compliment them more often along with anything you else you felt self-conscious of, he would post about you more and tell the world how beautiful you were to him. You would get on him about being so annoyingly cheesy but deep down it made you feel much better and you loved it. 

Originally posted by j-miki

Jinyoung

Due to the comeback, his time with you was scarce, you hadn’t seen him in a while. You mostly talked to him over text message. 

So when a few fans started to gang up on you on social media about some stretch marks you had on your stomach in one of the recent photos you posted with Jinyoung. You bottled it up because you didn’t want to bother him since he was so busy promoting.

One night he decided to surprise you by stopping by your home only to hear soft cries from the other side of the door, he rushed in worried something happened to find you on the sofa. You would jump up and turn away from him and try to make yourself look like nothing was wrong to which he would hug you from behind and tell you he knew something was wrong by the way you have been replying lately and he got worried. 

You would sit down and tell him what happened and he would get pretty upset over it. He wanted to scold the fans that were bothering you so much about your markings. He said he never really saw them as a bad thing, he said they just made you more beautiful. 

Once you were able to talk him out of scolding his fans, he cuddled up with you on the couch as he told you all about the comeback and how things were going. You felt really lucky to have someone as sweet and kind as Jinyoung all to yourself. 

Originally posted by namjoohuyks

Youngjae 

You have always been best friends with Youngjae and whenever you felt self-conscious about the little things wrong with your body like pimples and stretch marks. He would always tell you not to look down on yourself like that. 

You got into a relationship and towards the end, the guy got really verbally abusive about how ugly he thought you were and how your stretch marks made you look even uglier. 

You were always texting Youngjae but didn’t tell him what your boyfriend was saying about you, but you would ask him if he thought you were pretty and if you were fat. to which Youngjae would get angry and argue with you about saying such horrible things about yourself. 

Youngjae finally wanted to talk to you in person because he was so worried. So he invited you to one of his concerts with his group. After the show he sat down in private with you and brought it up, he noticed you looked very unhappy, which only increased his worry. 

At first you wouldn’t tell him what was wrong but eventually, you caved and told him everything. He got very upset and wanted to beat your boyfriend up right away. He didn’t understand why you were still with him. 

After talking everything through he convinced you to break up with him and stay with him for a while until you could find a better place to live. Which eventually led to you two dating because of corse it would, you were both best friends.

Originally posted by jypnior

Bambam

He wouldn’t put up with that crap at all, he would deny it alway. He would spoil you with kisses and hugs, sometimes even more than that. 

He would never let you be self-conscious about anything, but he knew the media was harrasing you pretty bad, so when he came back from practice to see you crying he had enough.

He posted his own stretch marks saying that everyone had them and that you shouldn’t feel ashamed if you have them, and to never make fun of anyone for having them. It’s just a sign that you are growing and it makes you individual.

You would see the post the next day and hug him tightly, he would pick you up and snuggle you into his chest and tell you never to feel bad about yourself because you are beautiful to him and that is all that should matter. He would hold you like this for hours and pepper you with kisses and whispers of I love yous. 


Originally posted by jckota

Yugyeom

He would be the most awkward about addressing it since you were his first relationship. 

None the less he hates seeing people shame each other for their bodies or even shame themselves for not looking good enough.

So when a fan posted on his Instagram about a blog that was dedicated to your stretch marks, he looked into it. What he found was a lot of nasty comments directed at you. The fan said flat out that you didn’t deserve to be with him because he was flawless you weren’t. 

Of course, you had seen it, the same fan had been posting on your twitter non-stop for weeks now, but you never mentioned it to him. You pretended like it didn’t bother you. Deep down though it really did, but you were too scared to tell him since you know he disliked it. 

When he came to you about it you were surprised. He asked if you had seen the blog and you said yes, he pulled you in for a hug and stroked your head. He whispered into your neck that it is ok if you are upset and he didn’t want you to bottle up your emotions and that he knew you had been hiding it from him.

You would end up crying it out into his chest, the whole time he would stroke your hair and run his hand up and down your back comforting you. Once you finished he smiled at you and asked if you felt better. To which you would nod.

He told you never to hide your feelings like that again and that he was going to talk to a manager and see if they could get the fans accounts banned and possibly take legal action if it continued because there was no way he would stand by and watch someone hurt the person he loved so much. 

Originally posted by daefsoul

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I hope you guys enjoyed this, thank you @-happytbh- for doing this, I was very unhappy with it about half way through and almost didn’t do it but we all need a little sappy love in our life, I hope you all enjoy it, she also requested another one so I will post that next. 

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Masterlist

Royal Flush: Part 1

Pairings: T’Challa x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2014

Summary: After much convincing you agree to attend your friend Tony’s party, only to be rendered speechless by a new guest, the Prince of Wakanda. 

Authors Note: There will be a part 2… possibly a part 3, but this is only a small drabble. This was created as a personal gift to @imhereforbvcky seeing as I deprived her of her T’Challa loving fic with First Spark: An Aftershocks Prequel. If you do not already follow her, you should, she is not only a fabulous friend and support system, but a phenomenal writer, seriously though, go read I’ll Be Good or any of her writings (Masterlist). She’ll rip your heart out and make you squeal with joy all in one fell swoop. Anyway, my dear A, here is the T’Challa drabble you deserve. 

@heismyhunter

Originally posted by caps-bucky


I’m going to kill Tony, was the only thought going through your head as you appraise your appearance in the long mirror. Your longtime friend and employer was adamant about your attendance of his party tonight. He had spent weeks convincing you to come and this morning he had sent over a dress just for the occasion.

He cannot be serious! You tug at the tight fabric, the black silk clinging to your every curve as the bodice puts your breasts on display. You yank a little bit at the lower half, trying to close the elegant slit that ran all the way up your thigh. You would normally never wear anything so exposing, but you had to admit, you did look like a knock out.

You hear the car honk outside as you grab your dark red lipstick, carefully tracing your lips with it before placing it in your clutch. You fluff your hair once more, nodding at yourself in the mirror before walking out the front door to meet the car.

You arrive at Stark tower to a party in full swing, as you walk down the stairs from the elevator, you are acutely aware of the multiple eyes that track your movements. You immediately feel self-conscious of the skin tight dress putting your body on display until you see Tony pushing through the crowd to meet you at the bottom of the steps.

“Wow, you look even better than I’d hoped. That dress! Do I know how to pick ‘em or what?” “If by pick ‘em, you mean force me to squeeze my body in a skin tight dress and put myself on display, then yes Anthony, I suppose you can pick ‘em.” You roll your eyes at his smile as he wraps his arm around your waist, placing a light kiss to your temple as he leads you to the bar.

“Well maybe if we get some liquor past those red lips you might relax and realize what a smoke show you are!” Tony teases you, his hand guiding you forward towards his team.  The Avengers, of course! Walking, talking, perfect examples of human specimens, and here I am in all my awkward glory.

You catch the eye of none other than Mr. Patriotism himself, causing him to choke on his drink slightly as Tony leads you over to the group. “Captain, Falcon! You remember my friend Y/N, don’t you?”

Captain Rogers inclines his head to you stiffly, eyes staying locked on yours as he resists the urge to glance down at your flawless cleavage, propped up perfectly by your tight dress. “It’s great to see you again, Y/N. I hope you’ve been well?” You smile at the Captain, “Well enough, it’s good to see you too Cap. Sam,” You smile turning to the second man.

Sam was slightly less tactful then Steve, his eyes devouring your form, taking in every inch of your well-shaped curves. “Hey Y/N… You look… Wow, you look incredible.” You smile thanking him for his compliment.

“Like, real good! I mean seriously, why don’t you dress like this all the time instead of those cardigans you always got…” Steve nudges Sam hard in the ribs, reminding him of his constant habit of unfiltered comments.

You smiled, slightly annoyed at the comment, hiding your eye roll behind a laugh, “Because I dress professionally Sam… You know… Because I’m a professional.” You stress the word, reminding Sam of the tact he was lacking. Sam seemed to catch on, glancing away awkwardly, “A drink! We were getting you a drink!” Tony interrupts leaning in towards the bar and motioning to the bartender.

“Old Fashion, please.” You say quickly, as the bartender inclines his head to you. “Make that two.” A deep voice speaks behind you, a smooth accent painting his rich tone. “Prince T’Challa!” Tony exclaims, as you turn around, your eyes falling on the owner of the voice.

Your eyes flick up his tall form, noting the perfect tailoring of his dark suit. A silver tie knotted neatly under his throat. Your eyes finally fall on his face, noticing the thickness of his lips when he splits them in a dazzling smile as he inclines his head to Tony, acknowledging his host and shaking his hand.

You watch T’Challa, his moves smooth and controlled as he greets your friend, your stomach knots as his eyes flick to you. You smile nervously, aware of your blank thoughts as your eyes lock onto his. He moves towards you, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to think of something to say as he approaches.

He reaches past you, without a word, retrieving the two old fashions from the bar, delicately handing you your glass before clinking his own against it. “Impilo,” He smiles, raising his glass to his lips, his eyes never moving from yours. “Cheers,” you respond, mimicking his movement. You take a long sip, feeling the whiskey burning your throat, bringing thoughts back into your head.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” You smile, raising your hand to the Prince, he takes it in his, but instead of shaking it, he leans his head down, and brushes his soft lips against your knuckles, making your stomach jump at the contact, as Steve and Sam raise their eyebrows beside you, not missing the intimacy of the introduction. “An absolute pleasure, Miss Y/L/N. You may call me T’Challa.”

You beam at his allowance of the familiarity of his first name, smiling graciously at him as he releases your hand, “Your highness, I promise the pleasure is all mine.” You smirk slightly, tossing your hair effortlessly as he grins at your response, your flirting clear in your tone. You suddenly feel Steve and Sam’s eyebrow raise now directed at you. “Really?” Sam sighs, as Steve nudges him in the ribs once more.

“Pepper!” Tony exclaims suddenly, “Prince T’Challa, I’ve been meaning for the two of you to meet, will you come with me?” he asks, making to direct T’Challa towards Pepper and some of the other executives of the company. “Excuse me,” T’Challa inclines his head slightly to you. Tony leads him away towards Pepper, his head turning back for his eyes to fall on you once more, your heart skipping when his smile flashes at you.

“What the hell was that!?” Sam quickly interrupts your gaze as you watch T’Challa walk away. “What do you mean?” You grin slightly as you raise your glass to your lips once more, “You’re kidding right? Or were you not present for that interaction of aggressive subtext.” Steve asks, bumping his elbow against yours, insistently.

“Oh god. If Cap was able to see the subtext then there’s no way you could have missed it. So Y/N,” Sam starts, smiling slightly at Steve, “Are you gonna go get some fondue with T’Challa.” “Oh god dammit, not this again! How do you even know about that!? What is it written in Shield’s training manual or something!?” Steve turns on Sam exasperatedly, as you flag down the bartender for another drink.

“Ok, but seriously Cap, how did you not know that fondue is just melted cheese.” Sam scoffs, taking a sip of his drink as the bartender delivers you a fresh one. You pick it up, sipping from it quickly, to dull the argument of the two men in front of you. “If you were there you would have asked too, for god sake there was all this subtext, just like there was just now.” Steve huffs back, his eyes falling to yours once more.

“Right. So… What was that about?” Sam insists, eyebrows raising towards you once more, following Steve and turning his attention to you again. You raise your drink to your lips, postponing your response, “I have absolutely no idea.” You smile slightly, your heart quickening as you think back through the interaction.

“Really?” Steve’s eyebrows rise so high that they threaten to meld with his hair. “Really.” You smile innocently, “But I definitely want it to happen again.” You smile, raising the glass to your lips to hide the coy smile breaking across your face. “You… uh… you what?” Steve stutters, clearly uncomfortable with your response.

“Oh calm down Cap, the girl is allowed a night on the town with a Prince, let her have a Cinderella story if she wants it.” Tony teases, returning to your group once more. Your eyes glance around the room, looking for where T’Challa had moved to. You quickly spot him, engrossed in conversation with a group of suited men, his charisma allowing him to charm the group with ease.

“I’m not saying that she isn’t allowed, I’m just saying that we don’t really know the guy, she shouldn’t get ahead of herself, I mean can we even trust him? Who is he really?” Steve sputters, defenses rising, “He’s a Prince Steve, I’m pretty sure that’s transparent enough. It’s kinda hard to be a royal serial killer. I agree with Tony, let the lady have her fun.” Sam interjects, arguing with Steve.

Their bickering and the heavy amount of whiskey suddenly make the room feel hot and constrictive. “Well!” You huff, turning back to the group of men before you, “As thrilling as it is to listen to the three of you debate what I can and cannot do, I feel the sudden need for a breath of fresh air.” You smile as they look bashfully at you, realizing their rudeness.

“Please excuse me boys” you smile, snapping a sarcastic salute towards them as you turn and saunter towards the empty balcony, your hips swaying seductively as you easily make your way through the crowd. You step out into the cool night air, closing your eyes as you inhale slowly, relishing in the feeling of the cold air filling your lungs.

You walk towards the edge of the balcony, resting your forearms on the railing as you lean forward, drink held loosely in your grasp as you gaze out over the city. You breathe deeply once more, your back bending slightly as you lean onto the railing, your hips pushing out behind you creating a striking silhouette as you press the cool glass to your lips.

You shiver at the burn of the whiskey as it conflicts with the cold air licking at your skin, hearing the balcony door open behind you, you to turn your head slightly causing your hair to fall forward over your shoulder. Assuming it to be one of the men you had recently walked away from, you hold your position, hoping that they would get the message of your disinterest in continuing the conversation.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you…” T’Challa’s voice causes your body to tense as you freeze, willing yourself not to jump at his presence, wishing your heart wasn’t beating so quickly in your chest. “Not at all,” You turn, smiling sweetly at him as he comes to stand beside you, leaning against the railing, looking out into the city.

“A lucky man, Mr. Stark…” T’Challa starts, his eyes examining the city as you look up at him. “He has a beautiful home, a lovely girlfriend,” he looks down to you smiling, “and enchanting friends.” “Thank… Thank you.” You blush at his compliment, your head spinning with his words.

Your gaze turns back to the city as you try to regain control of your emotions, slightly embarrassed by the effect that T’Challa has on you. “You know, Y/N,” Your heart skips at the sound of your name, his thick accent wrapping around every syllable before purposefully delivering it “Stark asked me if I’d be willing to stay for a few days, to help him with a new technology… Yet, I was not entirely sure I would.”

He looks at you, his attention focused intently on your face, your eyes remain focused on the illuminated landscape before you, listening intently to his words, secretly hoping that he will agree to Starks offer. “However,” he continues, “I must admit… after meeting you, I think I will accept his proposal.” Your heart skips a beat.

I have never deemed myself a renovator, I have always been the fixer-upper with boarded up windows, paint chipping off the top of my ceilings, waiting for the right buyer to see the potential in my living room and my attic while ignoring the demons behind every last closet door. I was the only broken house on a flawless street, until you moved in.

You took a beautiful home with more than enough room for you and destroyed it. In less than a year you’d shattered all the windows, flooded the floors, let all the light bulbs die. You didn’t pay your dues and let the electricity go and the pipes run dry.

You were a lousy neighbor, always loud and running to other houses day and night, ding dong ditch was your favorite game and you were known for knocking down every door. Your one night stands left all our front doors open, none of us knowing it was you except the empty walls of your bedroom. Your feet clicked against the floors with an empty hollow sound that I hope you can’t ignore.

You found cracks in the pavement from lazy builders, a man who never cared enough to really do it right, and you only made it worse until it split in two. The foundation crumbled under your feet begging for help from you, and when you didn’t like the mess you made you moved on somewhere new. You needed a some place strong, not some place that needed you.

I saw the beauty in that place you left for squatters, and believe me when I say it had seen many. But I cleaned the demons and spider webs out of those closets and I will relay the foundation of that saddened ground. I will keep the lights on at night and a warm glow in the wintertime.

I will make a home out of the heart you tried so hard to break.

—  m.m // Thanks for everything: An open letter to my boyfriends ex-girlfriend.
Ethereal

Requested: Yes

Summary: You’ve always been on the curvier side. It wasn’t the type of curvy that was always pretty, but none the less you were still curvy and thick. You think that your body shape is ugly, and you can’t help but feel insecure about it. So, being the good boyfriend Ashton is, he wants to show you how beautiful you are. c:

Word Count: 1,647

A/N: Don’t ever think that your body shape is ugly ok? No matter what, you’re beautiful and deserve to be loved by anyone who deserves you. c:

Keep reading

Luke Hemmings- HAAM

There were a lot of requests for me to do a Luke version of HAAM, so here you go! Hope you like it!

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Luke walked with his shoulders slumped and his fists clenched. It was the championship game for football and time ran out with the other team winning. People around me either cheered or booed. Some were arguing with the referees to rethink some of his calls. I just watched Luke. He put his hands up to his head and looked at the ground. I bit down on my bottom lip and climbed off the bleachers. I made my way towards the field and towards Luke. I pushed past people walking towards me, whispering an apology that didn’t really have any meaning. I just wanted to get to Luke. When I was a short distance away, he looked up and saw me. His eyes stayed with mine for a few seconds before he looked away and shook his head. I jogged up to him and grabbed his arm, “Luke.”

He pulled himself off of me, “Don’t.”

“You still played a really good game.”

He turned around and gave me a pissed off look, “Are you fucking serious? We just lost because of me!”

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You played an amazing game. You just didn’t have anyone backing you up.”

He groaned, “I still could have done better.”

I reached for his hand and this time he didn’t pull away, “Come on. Everyone’s gone, get your bad and go to the locker room.”

He nodded and we walked over to the bench and he got his bag and we walked back towards the locker rooms. Cars were already leaving along with players, some of who beeped at us as we walked by. They shouted things like, “Nice game, Hemmings.” Or, “Told you that you would lose.” Which only made him angrier. I squeezed his hand and we kept walking until we got to the locker room. I let go of his hand and let him go in, but he just stopped walking and turned to face me, “Where are you going?”

“I can’t go into the boys locker room.”

He laughed, “Come on, there shouldn’t be anyone in here.” He held his hand out.

I shrugged and grabbed his hand and we walked in as the coach was walking out.

“Luke,” he said, “I thought everyone left.”

“No, sir, I need to shower and get changed.” Luke answered.

“You know how to lock up right?”

Luke nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Alright just lock up when you’re done.”

Luke nodded and the coach left without even a second glance at me. We walked in and Luke placed his bag on the chair and then took off his shirt. He has some bruises on his torso from the ball hitting it a few times or from a few kicks. None the less, he looked flawless. He had some dirt on his face and his forehead was still sweaty. I licked my lips and blinked a few times, drinking in his appearance. He looked over at me and smirked, “Aren’t you going to come join me?”

“W-what?” I stuttered.

“You heard me. Take off your clothes and come join me.”

I swallowed hard, but I obligated. I reached down and slipped my shirt off my head. His demanding voice turned me on a bit, not to mention he was naked and under running water. I took the rest of my clothes off and joined Luke in the shower. Before I could even get my hair wet, Luke grabbed my hips and pressed me against the wall. His lips were on my neck immediately and my head fell back against the wall. I could feel his hard member poke my upper thigh. I glanced down and saw his tip was red and dripping with pre-cum. I so badly wanted to reached down and lick it off for him, but something tells me he wants to be in charge. He nipped at my skin, leaving his mark visible for anyone to see. One of his hands left my waist and ventured down to my clit. I sucked in a sharp breath when his finger pushed my folds apart. I wasn’t really wet yet, but I was definitely getting there. He slowly started rubbing circles on my clit and I let out the breath I was holding in. By habit, I reached down and gabbed hold of Luke’s dick. He stopped his movements and pulled away from my clit. He slapped my hand away, “Did I say you could do that?”

I blinked a few times, “N-no.”

“You will not touch me or yourself until I say you can.”

I nodded, “Okay.”

“Good.” He said and dropped down to his knees, “Remember, you can’t touch me until I say so.” And then his lips were wrapped around my clit. I tilted my head further back and moaned out Luke’s name. I felt around the wall for something to hold on to, but I couldn’t find anything. The only thing I could hold onto was the shower head. I reached up and held on as my knees became weak. His tongue lapped around me and his hands gripped tightly onto my ass. I want to reach down and grip my fingers into his hair but I’m not allowed to. He pressed himself closer to me so his nose was just above my clit. He licked everywhere around me, his tongue darting in and out at random times. God it feels so good. So fucking good.

“Luke.” I moaned and begged. I begged him to let me touch him. But he just shook his head against me which caused me to shudder. His tongue just grazed my clit which was almost teasing. I’m so close. So damn close its driving me insane. I whimpered and bucked my hips forward. But he just pinned me against the wall and ate me out at a rapid pace.

“Fuck.” I muttered as I felt myself on the edge of exploding.

He hummed against me and I cried out louder and louder the closer I got to my state of bliss. He looked up at me and my eyes locked with his. My face was scrunched up and my eyebrows were knit together. He started to move his head up and down side to side which sent me over the edge.

“Shit, Luke!” I yelled out as I came all over him. My knees became weak and I almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for Luke hold me up and me holding onto the shower head. He licked me clean before pulling away and letting me go. It was then when I fell to my knees trying to catch my breath.

Luke stood up, “Since your down there, I’m allowing you to touch me.” He leaned against the wall.

I breathed heavily and looked up at him to see his member right in front of my face. I grabbed hold of it and pumped him a few times. I watched as his head fell back against the wall and he let out a small sigh. With the water fall down on us from the shower, it made it easier to pump him. I made sure it was slow and teasingly pleasurable. The water washed off his pre-cum which slightly disappointed me. I swiped my thumb over his tip with was extremely red with anticipation. I leaned forward and licked the water that was dripping off of him.

“Stop teasing me.” Luke said in a low voice.

I ignored him and removed him from my mouth and continued to pump him slowly. Eventually I got too anticipated and I wrapped my lips around his tip. I sucked gently, but not enough go overwhelm him with pleasure. I slowly pushed him further into my mouth until I couldn’t fit anymore. I bobbed my head up and down and pumped what wouldn’t fit in my mouth. I heard him sigh of relief and I felt his hand on the back of my head. I swirled my tongue all around him as I pumped him hard.

“Look at me.” He whispered, but I didn’t listen. I just closed my eyes and focused on pleasuring him.

“I said fucking look at me!” He commanded and I opened my eyes and looked up at him through my lashes. His face was dripping with water and his hair was flat on his forehead. His bottom lip was between his teeth and his gazed stayed with mine. I blinked a few times to get the water out of my eyes which caused a moan to escape past his lips. I hollowed my cheeks and pushed him further into my mouth until I was basically gagging. I moaned onto him which caused him to growl in response.

“Fuck, Y/N, get up.” He said.

I released him from my mouth with a pop noise and I stood up. He grabbed my hips and spun me around so I was pressed against the wall. He lifted my leg up around his waist and pushed himself into me with no warning.

“God.” He whispered and placed his face in the crook of my neck. I reached around him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Don’t touch me until I say so.” He reminded me and I pulled my arms away from him. I reached up and held onto the shower head as he slid out of me and then rammed back in.

“Luke…” I moaned out and let my head rest against the wall. He fit so perfectly inside me, filled me up completely. And he always hit the right spots. He pulled out of me and slammed back in over and over again. His tip brushed against my g-spot and I shrieked in pleasure. My grip tightened on the shower head as I fought to keep myself upright.

“Don’t stop.” I silently begged.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” He growled and went faster. I breathed out loudly and then back in to only release it faster. My breathing was quickening which each of his thrusts and the pleasure started to rise in the pit of my stomach.

“Oh…oh god.” I moaned, “Let me touch you. Please.” I begged.

“No. Not yet.” His grip on my waist tightened.

One of his arms moved up and around my back, holding me closer to him.

“Are you close?” He asked.

“So, so close.” I squeaked out.

He went faster and used his over head and reached down and began rubbing circles on my clit. I moaned and bucked my hips forward, feeling the edge of my orgasm approach.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” He whispered into my ear and kissed the base of my neck. The feeling of him rubbing me and kissing me sent me over the edge. I cried out and came over his fingers and his dick. I pulled hard on the shower head to keep myself up, but it couldn’t hold. It broke off and I fell on top of Luke. But he held me close to him, not letting me fall. Water sprayed everywhere and the shower head fell to the floor. He slowly thrust in and out of me riding out my orgasm. I shuddered and held tight to Luke, fearful that I might fall. He pulled out of me, but still held onto me. After I caught my breath, I realized that Luke never came. I came twice, he didn’t, not even once. I lifted myself off of him, “Lie down.”

“Excuse you?”

“I want to pleasure you like you pleasured me.”

He hesitantly nodded and lied down on the floor. I hovered over him with my legs on either side of him and I crouched down.

“Can I touch you?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I placed my hands on his chest and leaned down, placing my lips on his. It didn’t last very long because I moved my lips to his collarbone and started kissing down his chest. I sat up and grabbed his member, aligning him up with my entrance. I sunk down on him slowly, watching his head fall back onto the ground. Water was still spraying everywhere, but neither of us cared. Neither of us wanted to turn off the water, not that it mattered. I bounced up and down on him, letting my head fall back from the feeling. I leaned back and rested my hands on the floor and bucked my hip forward.

“Shit.” Luke muttered.

I swirled my hips in a circular motion which I knew drove Luke crazy.

“Oh fuck.” Luke sat up and grabbed my waist, pulling me up with him. My legs were still on either side of him but I was lifted off the ground more and Luke was pounding into me. I whimpered and rested my head on his shoulder.

He bit down on my shoulder, just another mark to add to the many others. His movements were fast and hard and I felt another orgasm rising in the pit of my stomach. The feeling was indescribable, to have Luke inside me and so close to me. I clenched around him which caused him to moan.

“Do that again.” He said into my skin on my shoulder.

I clenched around him again and I felt him twice inside of me. He reached down and started rubbing circles on my clit just like before, but it still brought me the same amount of pleasure. My orgasm hit me faster than expected and I cried out and hugged myself closer to Luke. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the breath leave my body. Luke moved his fingers away from me and gripped them onto my waist and he sped up. I reached up and gripped my fingers in his hair which sent him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck!” He yelled as he shot his load into me. His movements slowed down, but he whimpered with each thrust. I was still out of breath and holding onto him. But I used one of my hands to reach up and turn the water off. I slowly tried to stand up, but failed miserably and fell back onto the ground. There’s no way I can walk, my legs are too sore. Luke laughed and picked me up and walked me over to the bench where our clothes were. He dressed me and then dressed himself.

He knelt down in front of me, “Are you okay?”

I laughed and pecked his lips, “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Can you walk?” He asked.

I bit my bottom lip, “No.”

He turned himself around so I was looking at his back, “Piggy back ride?”

I hooked my arms around his neck pulled myself onto his back and he walked out of the locker room. I placed a kiss on his cheek and he smiled. Maybe he should lose games more often.

Luke Imagine: Jealous at an Awards Show

Author: Rhine

-

“You ready?”

You look at your boyfriend, Luke, who was gazing at you with warm blue eyes, hand outstretched, his question lingering in the back of the car.

“In all honesty? No.”

You smile uneasily at him, the hesitancy evident in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, babe. You’ll be fine.”

He takes your shaking hands into his own, engulfing your shaking fingers with his steady hands as he smiled soothingly at you.

“I know, I just – I just want this night to be perfect, you know?”

“And it will be. My baby’s very first award show – you don’t deserve any less.”

“Thanks, Luke.”

You tried to give him a steady smile in return, but it still comes out a little crooked despite your flawless makeup.

“You worked so hard, they’d be crazy not to give it to you.”

“You never know – there’s a lot of other talented actors and actresses there, too.”

“But none of them are you.”

You roll your eyes at Luke, and the familiar action loosens up your tense shoulders.

“You’re so cheesy, Luke.”

“Like your favourite slice of pizza.”

You’re about to respond when your driver slows the car down until it stops fully, turning around and telling you that you’ve reached the venue of tonight’s award show. Your first award show.

When you look back at Luke, you can’t seem to contain your excitement and your nerves and your fear.

He places a light kiss on your forehead, careful not to mess up your hair or your makeup.

“You’ll be fine, I promise.” He mumbles, kissing your nose.

You nod, too nervous to speak.

“Ready to go, princess?”

He holds your hand, other arm ready to push the car door open to the red carpet and waiting paparazzi and adoring fans.

“Stay with me?”

Your voice is small and innocent, looking bashfully at Luke before sneaking a worried glimpse at the flashing cameras outside.

“I’ll never leave your side, princess. Now let’s go show the world who’s the best-dressed couple of the night.”

-

The red carpet is a daze of flashing white lights that leave you dizzy and uncoordinated, but your smile never leaves your lips and Luke’s hand never leaves the small of your back, steadying you.

You smile for the cameras and Luke does the same, arm in arm and entwined together. He places quick pecks on your cheeks and whispers sweet nothings into your ears, and the smile that you show during those moments are bigger than any rehearsed smirk in the mirror.

The interviewers flock towards you and they all ask you about your upcoming projects and your experience filming and working with your co-stars; some of them asking bold questions and others more general; some interviewers making you laugh and others making you pause and think for an answer. You share your thoughts on everything, trying to ignore the cameras that are an inch away from your face and focusing on the question, answering them as you would to a friend in a coffee shop.

And of course, there are always questions about Luke.

It’s always been like that, ever since the two of you publicly announced your relationship. It was months and months of talking about nothing but your relationship – where you met, your first date, your future plans, if you missed him, if you heard of that rumour or this piece of gossip – you were an up-and-coming actress and he was a hit musician and there’s nothing else that you should’ve expected.

But the news blew over and the questions returned to ones about your job, though there was no doubting that there would always be questions about Luke sprinkled in between here and there – the two of you tried to keep your relationship as low-key as possible, but there was no denying the popularity of your relationship.

Snippets of song lyrics, photos of your dates, statements during interviews – try as you may to keep your relationship with Luke out of the spotlight, it was still a ‘thing’ in the media among his fans and your own.

And especially in events like these – where you’d go out to support one another – interviewers never failed to ask the two of you questions about each other.

Are you proud of her?

Are you concerned about the future of your relationship now that you’re both moving to bigger places?

How did you feel about that stage kiss? Any hard feelings towards the co-star?

You and Luke answer each of them with a smile, tone light – his arm remains curled around your waist and you’re practically leaning onto his chest, and there’s no denying your love for one another despite a few interviewer’s attempts to rattle each other.

I couldn’t be any happier for my girl – she’s come so far and I’ll always be her number one fan, just as she is mine – right, babe?

No, we’re not concerned at all. We might be getting bigger, but we’re still the boy and girl who fell in love in the library and nothing’s gonna change that, no matter how many films or albums we make.

I mean, I did have to teach him a lesson – Luke! – nah, I’m just kidding. He talked to me beforehand and we’re cool on it. Besides, I’m the only one who can get the kisses whenever I want.

After graciously thanking the interviewers and smiling for the photographers, you and Luke made it down the carpet and entered the large building, where several other actors and actresses are already waiting, milling around and talking to one another.

You catch sight of a few of your co-stars and a few of your other friends, and you say a quick greeting filled with you look beautiful and congratulations on the nomination, you’ll win for sure before they disperse, leaving you and Luke alone in the crowd again.

You’re about to suggest looking for your seats when you catch a face in the crowd that makes you freeze short. Luke notices your abrupt stop and does the same, looking above the heads of the people to try and see who you were staring at.

“What is it, babe? Who’re you looking for?”

“Is that.. Mark Wahlberg?”

You try to discreetly point your chin to the well-suited middle-aged man near the side of the crowd, talking to a group of older women and men and laughing at a joke that someone just told.

“You mean that old guy over there?”

Luke!”

“I never knew you were into those types of guys. Should I start growing out a beard, too?”

“Luke, seriously.”

“What?”

“He’s like my favourite actor ever. I can’t believe he’s here – oh my god, I can’t believe we’re breathing the same air and that we’re in the same room – oh my goodness, I never thought I’d see him outside of a screen.”

“Calm down there, babe.”

“Calm down? I love all of his films. I’ve watched them all like ten times and I remember when he used to make music and I just – wow.”

You stare for a few minutes more, still starstruck and trying to get a better glimpse at the other man’s profile before he turns away completely, disappearing in the crowd.

When you turn back to Luke again, you notice that he’s silent and stoned-face, his lips pursed in a straight line.

“Luke? Are you okay?”

“Yeah – no, I just – “

“Were you jealous, Luke?”

You drag the word in a sing song tune, teasingly brushing his neatly ironed suit.

“No I wasn’t! I was just – “

“You were totally jealous.”

“Was not.”

Sure you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t!”

His lips are stubbornly jutted out, and you playfully toy with his collar, which causes him to hold in a breath, his eyes flickering between your fingers and your smirk.

“Just admit that you were jealous of Mark Wahlberg because I had my eyes on him for a minute too long.”

“I just don’t like you staring at other guys, okay?”

“Luke, he’s old enough to be my father. I like him as an actor, and nothing else – I swear. It’s a mutual actor respect thing. I can’t believe I’m saying this, wow.”

He’s silent, biting down on his lip ring.

“Middle aged guys aren’t my type, Luke. I like my guys tall and blonde with blue eyes and a stupid quiff and a punk rock lip ring and giraffe legs and a penguin smile.”

“That sure sounds like a guy I know.”

“I’m head over heels in love with him. Do you think he knows?”

“I think I can pass on the message to him.”

Luke’s lips finally split into a grin as he nears you, leaning down until your noses are brushing.

“Sorry for being stupid, babe.”

“Not sorry for staring.”

He instantly pouts and you let out a laugh that causes some people around you to stare, but you don’t care.

“He’s my favourite actor, Luke!”

“Aren’t I your favourite singer? You never ask me for a signature or something.”

“Because I can always ask for so much more.”

You smirk at him, and he instantly turns red, avoiding your eyes.

“I, um – er..”

You laugh at his flustered expression before lacing your hands with his again and turning on your heels towards the direction you last saw Mark Wahlberg.

“C’mon, Mr. Superstar – I want to get his signature first, then maybe I’ll ask something of my favourite singer later, yeah?”

 -

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anonymous asked:

What, to you, are the biggest factors that made you believe the baby was fake/is a stunt, etc.? I think that it is purely because of the DNA thing and the 'this baby is not real' thing, but I'm starting to feel bad/crazy for believing that because of what all these people outside of the fandom are saying. I guess they've achieved what they were hoping for. I know there are so many logical inconsistencies, but what if we're only looking at it from one side?

Some of these are bigger than others, but I find them all important. You can pick and choose which you think are important enough to take as serious proof that this baby scandal is all a huge fucked up stunt.

- The fact that Annas tweeted every time Louis hung out with Briana, thereby ensuring that fans would be at the clubs, the fact that they were papped every time they hung out in May, and the fact that her name was in the tabloids even though she was a nobody.

- The fact that Louis seemed utterly uninterested in her in the pap video (yet I’m expected to believe he fucked her) and they both posed for The Sun…which would be one of the two tabloids to release the “exclusive’ news about the pregnancy (along with People).

- The fact that Briana’s social media had been wiped way in advance.

- The fact that people were getting shady anons about Briana, a pregnancy, and a wedding before the news dropped.

- The fact that literally everything would have to be perfect and she would have had to know she was pregnant REALLY early on in order to tell Louis by the first week of June (less than a month after the supposed conception).

- The fact that it was announced so early into the pregnancy when she was a nobody and they could have hid it for YEARS if they wanted to.

- The fact that Simon Cowell and Liam Payne (the only member of 1D who can give the company line convincingly) confirmed the pregnancy before Louis.

- The fact that Simon Cowell, Louis’ boss, talked significantly more about Louis’ impending fatherhood than Louis did.

- The fact that Louis confirmed the pregnancy live on GMA a matter of days after their first single from their fifth album was release (aka it was promo) and he looked miserable (even if he’d knocked someone up and simply wasn’t happy about it, then they could have blacklisted the question).

- The fact that all three of Louis’ bandmates looked unbelievably uncomfortable and nervous when Louis was asked about the baby on GMA. (Why? If it was real, even if Louis was unhappy about it, why were they so uncomfortable about the question? Like…they would have known he would have to deal with those types of questions and it’s not like they were the ones who had to answer)

- The fact that Jay didn’t say thank you for congrats on her Facebook and untagged herself when a friend tagged her in a babygate-related post.

- The fact that Louis is renting (aka did not buy) a house in LA even though his child will presumably be living there for the next 18 years.

- The fact that Louis was in LA for like two weeks before the birth, yet he didn’t actually start renting a house until the week after the birth.

- The fact that Louis is obsessed with children and knows how to take care of them, but didn’t bother to set up his baby stuff until after the child was born when he could have done it beforehand or he could have hired someone to do it.

- All of the stuff the bears did related to babygate.

- The fact that neither Louis nor his team shut down any of the mocking articles during the last nine months.

- The fact that neither Louis nor his team spoke out against fans saying that the pregnancy was a stunt and the baby wasn’t real.

- The fact that Briana’s body miraculously bounced back to the point where she was wearing heels three days post-birth, pleather leggings about five days post-birth, and no bra less than a month later (whether she was breastfeeding or not, basically everyone agrees that braless & flawless is not a thing that you can reasonably do that soon because of milk leakage etc)

- The fact that Louis suddenly became interesting to the media within the months leading up to the pregnancy announcement.

- The fact that Louis is out there getting papped with his baby constantly even though he has a) never shown himself to be an attention whore with the media in the past and b) nothing whatsoever to promote at the moment.

- The fact that none of his bandmates tweeted him a congratulations and that only Liam (again, the only one who can give the company line) has talked about the baby since the birth…and there is no evidence of any of them meeting him.

- The fact that the birth was announced via update accounts and a comment from a grandmother on a Instagram pic of trash bags.

- The fact that Jay waited 2-3 days to fly out to meet her first grandchild even though she and Louis are super close and she was supposedly excited. You would have expected her to be on the first flight out.

- The fact that Lottie waited a month to fly out to meet the child even though she definitely could have done so sooner.

- The fact that the rest of the family waited two months to fly out to meet the child even though some of them (particularly Fizzy) could have done so sooner.

- The fact that Jay said they wanted privacy and a matter of weeks later, Louis decided to go on pap walks all the time and they all posted numerous pics on various family members’ social media accounts.

- The fact that Louis is amazing with children and we’ve never seen him with a child he didn’t seem to adore until “his” child, who he has not looked at affectionately in any of the pics/videos we’ve seen.

- The fact that the babies have not appeared to be consistent between different photos/videos and the size of some of the babies have been off for how old they are supposed to be.

- As you mentioned, lack of paternity test. Louis is a smart guy and would have gotten one. His family and his team would have told him to get him one even if he didn’t want one, and he most certainly would have listened.

- As you mentioned, Louis throwing the doll onstage and saying it isn’t real when he already knew he was going to be a dad and when the news would drop about two and a half weeks later. 

And honestly, I could probably think of more if I had more time and patience.

Luke Imagine: Demon AU Part 3

Author: Rhine

Part 1 / Part 2

-

He stays away from your head, but you never leave his.

Your pink lips, forming his name. Your arched eyebrows, voice defiant when you told him you wanted to go home. Your small breaths on his chest when he held you close. Your warmth that he held in his arms before letting you go; before he froze you with his touch.

He savours it, locking it deep in the recesses of his mind, far away from any twisted nightmare threatening to deform the last beautiful memory he has.

The memory of you.

He makes a point to stay away from you – you didn’t deserve any more sleepless nights or startled awakenings in the ungodly hours because of him.

It’s the least he can do.

And he finds it funny that it’s the only thing he can do for you – he can’t give you warmth or love or dreams or wishes or happiness, but he can give you a nightmare-less sleep.

He can give you nothing.

And that’s all he amounted to.

Nothing but shadows that wafted in and out of sleeping bodies, that slunk in half-closed doorways and curtains that didn’t quite pull themselves shut. Nothing but cold sweat in the middle of the night and troubled moans from the scenes he crafts so intricately in the heads of his unsuspecting victims.

He can spend days on his nightmares – perfecting them in every minute detail, crafting them individually for every single person he comes upon.

You see, that’s the thing about nightmares – you remember them. Unlike dreams, they don’t fade the minute you leave the warmth of your bed sheets. You don’t try to cling onto them by the wisps to try and remember them; spontaneous moments throughout your day when you’d remember another detail only to have them fade away mere seconds later.

No, with nightmares, they cling onto you. They plague your thoughts and they haunt your mind. They ensure that you never leave your bed sheets, leaving you burrowed in your blankets as if you could shield the nightmares away.

With nightmares, he makes them real.

He makes sure you carry them on even without him, that you think of the masterpiece he constructs just for you, perhaps not admiring his work but looking all the same.

He wants you to remember them.

But with you… with you, it’s a little different.

Your smile could chase away even his grandest creations; the sparkles that glimmer in your eyes could pierce through any darkness that he weaves.

You chase all the nightmares away.

And perhaps that’s why he can’t help but to stay closer.

-

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a dream, but he thinks you’re the closest thing to one that he’s had in a long time.

He tried to stay away, he really did – but he notices how you’re not sleeping at night, how you’re tossing and turning with your eyes wide open.

You can’t sleep without him.

Your thoughts are plagued with fragments of him – sharp pieces of his ice blue eyes and slivers of his moonlit skin that cut through any hopes of sleep.

You find it funny how you can’t sleep without one of his nightmares to lull you to slumber – not a pleasant one, but sleep nonetheless – and no matter what you try, you can’t get the memory of him out of your head.

How he reappeared at the foot of your bed with a devil’s smirk and an outstretched hand. How he whispered please don’t be afraid in his world of nightmares. How he said he was sorry before disappearing into the shadows of your room.

It was a dream. It was a dream. It had to be.

You tell yourself that, but there’s no denying the icy aftertaste of his mouth that lingers on your lips; his frigid touch that froze you in his arms.

You see, that’s the thing about dreams and nightmares – you start to lose your sight on the line of reality that you’ve marked in your head, and you think you might be going crazy trying to find it again.

He sees your confusion and he hates how he can’t leave you alone, even when he’s gone.

You leave a trail of destruction wherever you go, little nightmare boy.

It’s all he’s ever done.

-

You’re falling.

You’re falling through the air and you’re screaming at the top of your lungs, but there’s nobody to hear your distressed shrieks save the stormy purple clouds above you and the roaring ocean below you.

There’s a bed of jagged rocks underneath you, and you’re certain it’ll be your final resting place; a grave of eroded knives and saltwater that steals your blood.

You close your eyes and brace yourself for the sharp edges that’ll undoubtedly pierce your soft skin, but it never comes.

You find yourself plunged straight into the water, but they’re not the swirling typhoons of black and navy with foaming edges like they were mere seconds ago.

No, you find yourself somewhere… calmer.

The water is a clear blue – ice blue nothingness around you, bright and clear.

You don’t notice the cold until you find that your limbs are frozen.

Your arms and legs have a layer of ice over them, the heavy ice pulling you deeper and deeper into the blue oblivion below you.

You try to scream, but the bubbles freeze before they even leave your lips.

You’re a block of ice sinking into the bottom of the ocean, and there’s nothing you can do but watch.

That’s when he appears.

You think you almost imagine him – he’s nothing but a flicker in the waves of the ocean, but you start to watch the waters form the figure of the boy that’s haunted you even when you were awake.

The waves build his figure – tall and lanky, with that crooked smirk and long fingers – he’s nothing but a soft outline in the water, floating with the current.

You find it unnerving how the outline of his hair flows like the current, but his eyes remain as two shards of ice in the blue water.

I’m sorry, princess.

His voice echoes in the endless expanse of the ocean, his words perfectly clear despite your ice-block encasement.

This was – this was the only way you’d get some sleep. You need to forget. You need rest.

I need answers.

Your mouth doesn’t move, frozen in their place – but while it may be his nightmare, it’s your head, and your words echo like his around you.

The water apparition of him raises an amused eyebrow – he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who’s manipulated his nightmares like you before.

Granted, he’s never met anyone like you before.

And what answers do you need, princess?

How are you… you? How is this all happening? I can’t – I don’t understand.

His eyes grow hard for a moment, and you’re afraid you might have angered him.

But the hardness melts away to something you can’t fathom, and his next words are heavy.

Tomorrow night. You’ll have all the answers you need.

The figure of him disintegrates, and the ice around you shatters.

The sudden rush of cold water envelops you after your freedom of the ice encasement, but you think this is worse – the freezing waves choke you, seeping into your nose and mouth and eyes, pulling you down.

It doesn’t take long for the darkness to envelop you once more.

-

He appears at the foot of your bed, just as he said he would.

You were half expecting it – you can’t fully trust your nightmares – but you’re still taken aback by his figure in the shadows.

You should have forgotten about me, princess.

You’re the one who intruded my head!

His next words are quiet, sorrowful, and you almost don’t catch them.

I know.

He stands away from you, hands in his pockets, staring at the ground – so unlike the mischievous enigma that appeared to you the first time.

I want to know… I want to know that I’m not crazy. That there’s a way for you to exist – that you’re not some byproduct of my dysfunctional brain. How are you real?

You needed an explanation. You needed answers. You needed to know why before you could fall asleep peacefully, to chase his haunting figure away with logical reasoning.

Would you like to see my nightmare?

He outright evades your question with his own, sitting at the end of your bed cautiously.

It frustrates you how he dances away from your question; from the promise he made of answers the night before.

You weren’t even aware he could have nightmares – what kind of nightmares would he have if he was the one to construct them?

He reaches his hand out to you like he did so many nights ago, and you’re reminded with a jolt of his lightless world and horrifying home.

Before you can say no, he speaks, noting your fearful expression.

It’ll answer any question you have.

He looks at you with a pleading look in his ice-blue eyes, and you can’t help but to think it makes him look more human.

You hesitate for a moment – you remembered how the last time you took his hand, he plunged you into his underworld of nightmares.

But he brought you back, he brought you back with an apology and more questions than ever.

And this time, he was offering answers.

You make up your mind before you can think out your idiocy further.

And for the second time, you take his pale hand and put your trust in a boy who lived in a world of nightmares.

-

You blink rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the scene before you.

You see a dark alleyway, and a soft rustle directs your attention to a heap of newspapers before you.

The pile of newspapers shift again, and this time a head emerges from the printed words – a tuft of blonde hair streaked with dirt and soot, painting the golden locks black in the moonlight.

A face appears, and though it’s lined with dirt and dust, the high cheekbones and carved jaw is unmistakeable – it’s him.

The nightmare boy. Luke.

It’s a diminished version of him, though – his skin is more sallow, with bumps and scars marring his face, the pale skin a little too stretched out over his bones. His jaw is a little too sharp, his cheekbones a little too pronounced. When he blinks his eyes open, they’re not the same unnaturally bright blue that you’ve come to know – they’re calmer, smoother. Less of an icy ocean and more of a summer sky.

I was a pitiful thing, wasn’t I?

The sudden voice makes you jump, turning around to see none other than the Luke you’ve seen in your dreams – the flawless boy carved from marble, the one who claimed himself as a god, who made nightmares in his dark world.

That’s… that’s you?

You look down at the diminished version of Luke – Past Luke, you called him in your head – before staring back at the flawless version next to you.

That was me.

You peer closer at Past Luke – he’s oblivious to you, and you’re clearly nothing but an observer in this dream.

No, this memory.

Your eyes widen when you notice the date on the newspapers that Past Luke snuggled himself in.

1719? You’re –

Quite old, I’m aware of that.

The Luke besides you has a wry grin on his face, though there’s a tint of sadness when he looks down at Past Luke.

I was a peasant. Nothing but street urchin that people kicked when they walked by – my life… my life was a nightmare.

There’s something bitter in his tone, and you notice how his eyes narrow and jaw stiffens when he speaks of Past Luke.

No, of himself. You notice how there’s always some sort of anger or hatred when he speaks of himself; past or present.

Before you can question it, he continues.

My life was a nightmare before I became one.

He says the words stiffly, his tone icy.

But how – how did you become…?

The Luke besides you glances at you for a moment before waving his hand lazily. In a second, the scene around you dissolves before a new one bleeds into your vision.

This time, you’re in a dark world that you visited once before – but this time, it’s different. Instead of clouds of whispers and whirlwinds of galaxies exploding, you see monsters on leashes and hands banging in jars and behind glass doors and below the floor, desperation clearly in the pleas that garble together.

You see Past Luke in the midst of it all, so bright and coloured in the dank world despite his grubby, fraying clothes.

He’s talking to a taller figure – broad shoulders and short black hair, dressed in a posh black suit – but he’s faced away from you and you can see nothing but the confusion and fear in Past Luke’s eyes.

It melts away to disbelief before setting into grim determination, his weak jaw set with a firm nod.

I made a deal.

The Luke beside you is watching the scene unfurl with regret openly in his ice blue eyes, sorrow dipping his words.

I was not only poor and pitiful, but I was also stupid and naïve. I was fearful of my imminent death on the streets and I was hungry for power over those who kicked me down. I was desperate. I was foolish.

What did you agree to?

Your words are a whisper, even though you’re well aware that no one in the memory can hear you but the present Luke himself.

I agreed to this. To take over his place – he nods to the black figure of the man whose face you couldn’t see – to become what I am today.

I took his world and made it my own. I took his job and made my own nightmares. I chose immortality over death. But… but living in a nightmare is quite different from being one itself.

He walks towards Pas Luke, and it unnerves you how the two different versions are so similar yet different – yet you find that the largest difference is not in the unnatural perfection of the unhuman Luke, but rather the resigned sadness of the future in his eyes in comparison to the boyish hope that the Past Luke had.

I found that there’s only so many nightmares you can plague your enemies with – they’ll forget them in time and they’ll have someone to wake up next to, telling them it’s alright. If only I had known –

He watches as Past Luke shakes his hand with the man, and the harsh resentment is clearly evident in his eyes.

He turns back to you, his icy blue eyes steeled and unflinching.

You see, this is my nightmare. The moment I chose to become one.

Before you can open your mouth to offer words of feeble comfort, he waves his hands once more, and everything disintegrates into darkness once again.

-

You open your eyes with a start, gasping for breath.

To your surprise, Luke is still at the edge of your bed, sitting down and watching you with the same unreadable eyes.

Do you have all the answers you need, princess? Are you satisfied with knowing how the monster came to be?

I… Luke –

Are you?

No.

You answer is whispered, quiet, but he catches it and his features harden, his beautiful face twisting into something darker.

Would you like to see more? Would you like to see how I’ve caused civilizations to fall, how I’ve driven kings and queens mad? Would you like to see how I’ve plagued the earth and how I’ll continue to do so? Would that be enough for you then to forget about me, princess?

He spits out the last word, no longer endearing as it was before.

His cold fury startles you, but it doesn’t scare you – because you know it’s not directed towards you.

It’s directed towards himself.

How do you stop? Stop being… this?

He turns to look at you, eyes still flashing.

You make a deal. Someone takes your place.

What would happen to you then?

I die.

He must have noticed the horror on your face, because he lets out a bark of sharp laughter that slices through the night air.

Oh princess, don’t look so appalled. With immortality, you find that death is a blessing.

How can I –

No.

He cuts you off sharply before you can finish your sentence.

I’m not offering you any deals. I’m not offering anyone any deals. This is a life that I deserve, no one else.

But –

He moves towards you so suddenly that the words die in your throat, lost somewhere in his depthless blue eyes that you drown in.

You’re highly aware of his lips millimeters away from yours, and you can feel his icy breath on your mouth.

I ask that you forget about me, princess. It doesn’t do well to dwell on nightmares.

And how do you forget nightmares?

Time, princess.

God knows he has all the time in the world, but he still won’t forget about you – his dream.

He’s about to turn away to leave when your voice stops him in his tracks.

You’re not a nightmare to me.

Your words make his breath hitch in his throat, his blue eyes scanning yours for a moment before he pries himself away from you.

He wonders how someone can see all that he can do – nightmares at night and haunted thoughts throughout the day – and still say that. How you can see the darkest corners of his twisted world and have curiosity, not fear. How you can look into his past and look past icy bones and still accept him with such readiness.

There’s a sad little smile on his lips when he looks at you again, and in the moonlight you see the lost, scared boy that he once was.

Sweet dreams, princess.

It’s his way of saying goodbye.

-

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