Speaking of freckles, I never thought I was a freckly person but I went outside for like two hours and suddenly my skin got invaded by a billion dots and it was really weird. Not like Phil who’s like ‘I’m white, I look like Voldemort *bam* I’m white but have brown spots everywhere like a leopard’. I just got little dots. Scary. But I love freckles. Freckles is one of those things where a lot of people feel insecure about them, especially when you’re younger and in school. But let me just say for the record: Freckles are beautiful. Like people with really freckly faces, you know what I’m talking about with really freckly cheeks. I know that some people see, you know, conventional, perfect, beige skin and they don’t like it but trust me, a lot of people like freckles, think they’re very beautiful and unique. If you have freckles, do not feel insecure. They’re like an upgrade. They’re like a bonus you unlock in a video game.
“Baby. Babe, you gotta wake up. Come on, let’s see those pretty eyes.”
Squeezing your already closed eyes, you flipped onto your stomach to bury your face in the pillow as your brain began to bring your body back to full consciousness. The familiar sounds of an early Friday morning poured into your ears as your boyfriend began gently rocking your stiff body.
“You hit snooze in your sleep again. You’re lucky your loud ass alarm woke me up so I could stop you from oversleeping.”
“E,” you groaned, your voice being muffled by the pillow.
You nearly fell back asleep as Ethan’s long fingers pushed the hair that had fallen to the sides of your face back and over your shoulder, twisting a couple strands between his digits as he did so.
Finally opening your eyes, you turned your head and allowed your tired, blurry vision to focus on the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. He was propped up on his right elbow, greeting you with a small and sleepy smile. His lower half was still tangled in the sheets up to the hem of his boxers, leaving his naked upper body on full display. Turning onto your left side to face him and get a better look, your sleep-heavy right arm extended in front of you to sweep the messy strands of bedhead away from his eyes. Ethan watched your eyes intently as they followed your movements. You dropped your hand to his jaw, your thumb automatically grazing over your favorite amount of stubble. Tracing his jaw down to his chin, your eyes locked on those full, flushed lips. As if on cue, his tongue poked out and licked the soft skin. They were so… velvety. Your thumb was drawn to them like a magnet, outlining their rounded shape.
“I love you,” you whispered as the pad of your thumb lightly stroked the plump skin of his bottom lip.
A low and breathy chuckle slipped from Ethan’s lips as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, flashing you his bright, toothy smile. Your favorite sound followed by your favorite sight. His little laughs sent shivers down your spine and his beautiful smile made your heart leap. You wished he wouldn’t be so overcritical of his bright smile.
“You love me, huh?” He sighed, lips pulling together in a teasing smirk. Goosebumps dotted your skin at the barely there feeling of his hand gliding down your side, palm landing on your hip. His fingertips softly dug into the swell, his thumb caressing your skin and allowing the faint scrape of his nail.
“Mmm,” you hummed in response as your eyes fluttered closed.
The deduction of your vision gave rise to the heightened ability of your remaining senses. Suddenly, every touch receptor in your body was notifying you of the presence of Ethan’s hand lovingly kneading at the curved softness of your hip. Your ears centered on the barely audible, continuous cycle of his slow and deep breathing. The faint and worn smell of his woodsy cologne still lingered on his hot skin. The bed shifted slightly where Ethan was laying as you sensed him leaning forward, planting kisses on each of your closed eyelids and one on the tip of your nose. Scrunching your face with a smile, you slowly opened your eyes immediately noticing just how close Ethan’s face was to yours. You could make out every shade in the melting pot of color within his irises and count each of his long, black eyelashes. The same playful smirk was plastered on his face as he whispered his response in a gravely tone, his palm adding more pressure behind the squeezing of your hip.
“Well baby, that’s quite the relief to hear, considering I love you as well. Maybe we should date.”
“Maybe,” you giggled, once again bringing a hand up to his hair, your fingers softly digging into his thick, dark locks. Ethan’s eyes closed as a quiet, innocent groan rumbled in his throat. A similar smirk played on your own lips as you continued your taunting: “Or maybe not.”
Without missing a beat and with eyes still closed, Ethan’s hands firmly grasped your sides, easily hauling you forward, emitting a squeal from your lips. He guided you on top of him in a straddling position, the palms of your hands flying to his chest in order to keep your balance.
Immediately, you bent down to press your lips to his in a brief kiss before placing the left side of your head on his right collarbone. Your arms snaked easily around his neck, hands instantly twirling and playing with the puffs of hair on the nape of his neck. Your eyes closed as well as you listened to his steady pulse and focused on the light scratches his nails were giving your back. These sweet morning moments were few and far between, but you wished they happened everyday. With Ethan’s career and your college schedule combined, many times one of you would be gone before the other even woke up. Today, however, Ethan had the entire day off, but you still had class. You were seriously considering playing hooky for the day, but you knew Ethan wouldn’t allow it. Especially considering the struggles you’ve been known to have in certain subjects. His voice brought you back to reality the moment he noticed you beginning to slowly drift to sleep again.
“C’mon sweetheart,” he mumbled into your hair. “You gotta get to class.”
The whiny groan that vibrated from you made Ethan’s heart melt. He lived and breathed for the many effects he had on you. That being said, he was still fully aware you had him helplessly wrapped around your finger. The idea of staying in this same position: legs twisted, arms wrapped, and faces buried as you soaked in the warmth of the other was something you both craved. It was nearly enough to break Ethan’s strength and keep you in this bed all day. Almost.
“I’m sick of it,” you muttered into his neck as your right hand traced his prominent clavicle. “You know it’s my worst class. I’m the most stressed I’ve ever been.”
Ethan’s hand rubbed your back gently in comfort as you spoke. He knew just how much you hated this class in particular. You studied yourself sick night after night, often not coming to bed before two or three in the morning. He witnessed too many tears of frustration and defeat slipping down your cheeks as you read and reread sections in your Power Points, handwritten notes, and textbooks containing the most complex information of each chapter. The immense pride he felt when you finally had a breakthrough of understanding was indescribable.
Unfortunately, those moments of glory never came easy.
You were on the verge of one, he just knew it, but you needed to get to class to take another step towards it.
“I know you’re sick of it, but you have to go,” Ethan soothed, still rubbing circles into your lower back. “When you come home, we can come right back to this same position and stay here all weekend if you want.”
You sighed, instantly relaxing at the thought. Taking in his words, you unraveled one of your arms and reached out to press the home button of Ethan’s phone laying on his nightstand.
45 minutes until you had to leave. As you read the large, bright numbers on his screen, you felt your boyfriend’s arms wrap around your abdomen tightly in a comforting embrace as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
“I’m all yours the second you come back home.”
As you began weighing the pros and cons in your head, your thoughts were soon interrupted by a swift, playful slap to your backside causing you to shriek in surprise.
“Up,” Ethan commanded with a chuckle and another slap.
“Okay, okay,” you whimpered, pushing yourself off your boyfriend and onto your feet.
You padded into your connected master suite and turned on the shower, allowing the water to heat up before poking your head out of the doorway to catch a glimpse of Ethan. His long legs were sprawled across your shared bed, one arm behind his head and the other attempting to rub the sleep from his face. You tiptoed to the edge of the bed and waited until he noticed your presence. His movements froze as he caught your eyes wandering across his torso.
“Take a picture, princess. It’ll last longer,” he teased with a raised eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes at his tone.
“Wanna shower with me?” You asked in your sweetest voice in hopes of convincing him.
Ethan chuckled as his arms reached over his head, proceeding to stretch out his body head to toe, making the most adorable whine as he did so. He let out a deep sigh as he propped himself up onto two elbows, causing his biceps to flex and bulge. He took his time lovingly studying your perfectly messy hair and makeup free face. You were stunning through and through in his eyes. A lazy smile crept onto his face as he noticed your eyebrow raising in response to his stare.
He untangled himself from the sheets, stood, and positioned himself directly in front of you. Before you could speak, he cupped both your cheeks and gently encouraged you forward as he tilted his head down to press his lips to yours in a sweet, leisurely kiss. Slowly pulling away, his hands floated from your cheeks to the sides of your waist.
You barely had time to register the smirk that had found its way back to his features before he was scooping you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and marching you back into the bathroom.
Newt Scamander was an absolute work of art, and simply studying his features helped you relax, so you did. He sat at the polished oak table, his right leg shaking as he focused, his honey colored locks sprawled across his forehead. When he focused, these little crinkles appeared from the furrow of his eyebrows, and he would chew his lower lip whilst deep in thought. A golden beam of sunlight twinkled across his button nose, rosy cheeks, and brilliant blue-green eyes. He reached for his steaming mug of tea, letting the curls of steam crawl over his face before taking a careful sip. Then his lips twitched ever so noticeably, and you could make out the little dimples of his curious smile.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked, his head still bent into his leather notebook, his white feather quill tight in his hand.
You sat across the table from him, head in palm as you examined him, “because you’re very nice to stare at, Newt.”
This split his lips into a wide grin, and he gently set his quill down before giving his full attention to you. “I can’t focus when you’re devouring me with those eyes.”
You shrugged, giving a small grin, “you’re always staring at me, too.”
“Well, you see, with you - okay, but - you’re very, well-” New continuously tripped over his words as he fumbled to piece together his thoughts.
“Go on,” you encouraged, stretching your hand across the table.
Newt brought his eyes down, his hand coming up gently to rest in yours, his fingers intertwining with the most cautious ease. He strung his fingers between yours, his eyes looking over your hands for a good while.
“Newt, you’re doing it again,” you giggled, when he’d gotten distracted and removed his hand to draw patterns all over your palms.
“What? Oh, oh, yes, right,” he sighed, putting his hand back in yours. He looked back up, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Erm, well, you are the most fascinatingly charming girl I h-have ever had the pleasure of coming upon,” he began, his cheeks reddening at once. “So y-you see, when I study my creatures, I am always discovering more of their hidden wonders, as I am with you. Sometimes the sunlight will cross different crevices of your face, sometimes your eyes are darker than usual, sometimes a strand of hair falls loose, a-and sometimes you’re smile is so wonderfully mesmerizing that I must always…watch. I can’t miss a moment, you see, I have to study you until I know all you’re little quirks like the back of my hand.” Newts eyes had drifted onto a patch of table around halfway through, unable to hold your gaze.
You squeezed his hand really lightly to get his focus, “Newt.”
He released your hand and brought his own back down into his lap, shifting in his chair and looking very flustered when he looked back up at you.
“Newt, you’re too good to me,” you whispered, feeling ridiculous for wanting to cry.
“I’m just so lucky to have you, please know this,” he mumbled hurriedly.
You shook your head with a faint laugh, “what makes you think I have no reason to admire you?”
His jaw clenched a little, and you saw his face droop, “my love, there is nothing special to see.”
That physically pained you to hear.
“Newt!” you gasped, “Please, never say that again.”
He grew instantly worried, “Oh-I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I-”
“Shh,” you cut him off and stood up, heading around the table and taking a seat right beside him, turning your chair toward Newt. He half-heartedly turned to face you as well.
“Newt,” you smiled sadly, raising your palm up to graze his cheek. He twitched nervously under your touch, but you reassured him and rested your hand against his freckle dotted skin.
“Newt, you are the kindest and most amazing person ever, and I hate to see you doubting yourself like this. You are so special Newt, and I wish you could see yourself the way I do; as a sweet, loving, and most definitely heart stoppingly beautiful human being. Yes there are kind folks out there, yes there are gorgeous folks out there, but never have I found someone who is both as gorgeous and compassionate to the extent that you are, which is why I am so deeply in lo-”
You stopped short, realizing you had spoken too much and instantly freezing over. You had never exchanged the three magic words with Newt before, and suddenly it seemed nothing but terrifying.
Newts mouth opened, his skin warming beneath your fingertips, “What?”
“N-nothing,” you mumbled, dropping your hand nervously.
Newt grabbed your hand gently before it could fall, and took it in his own, bringing it right up to his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat rapidly quickening beneath the fabric of his soft clothes.
“Do you feel that?” he gulped.
You nodded shyly, “Yeah?”
“That, (Y/N), is what one who is madly in love feels,” he smiled nervously. “This here, i-is physical proof of how I feel when I’m with you, and how it feels to be head over heels for y-you, my darling.”
You felt your own heartbeat falter before quickening, and Newt asked, “Do you love me too?”
He had said it so quietly that you almost missed it. His lips quivered, his slender fingers trembling as his face sunk into a state of absolute sadness and worry. You couldn’t even speak at the sight, so instead you brought his hand up to your own chest, and lay it against your heart. Newt stretched his fingers slowly across your front, his palm taking in the rapid and intense thrum of your heartbeat.
“You tell me,” you breathed quietly.
He brought his eyes from your heart to your painfully nervous gaze. Once again, his lips twitched and broke into that familiar smile. The sun sent flares across his warm features and illuminated his overjoyed expression.
“I would very much like to kiss you right now, if you would allow me,” he proposed shyly.
You couldn’t help but laugh, your smile stretching wide as you gave him a nod.
Newt pulled a stray hair of yours affectionately behind your ear before tracing down to your jawline and resting his hand beneath your chin. He gave you one last look before tilting his head in with a flutter of his eyelids. Your eyes closed at the moment where your lips made contact. It was only for the briefest of moments, but was plenty enough for you to feel intoxicated by the taste you were given. He was soft and gentle with you, as if you were a fragile piece, and his lips were full, warm, and tasted of delightful sugar sweet joy. You could feel his hand quivering beneath your chin, but you pushed your lips in a little deeper to show you were at ease with him. You felt a rolling crystal droplet trickle down from his eyes and down onto your lips, but the taste of salt in the kiss was one that you knew was from tears of joy. Newt’s timid lips twitched upwards against yours, and he pulled back a second later, forgetting to breathe for a moment. He gulped down the lump in his throat and took a deep breath in whilst opening his bluish green eyes again.
“T-that was-” he stuttered.
“Wonderful,” you smiled and bent forward, dropping a light peck against Newt’s nose. You brought your own head down to Newt’s chest, and burrowed into the crevice of his neck, where you breathed in the scent of flowers and, possibly, niffler. He brought his hand up to hold your head, his free arm coming around your waist and giving you a squeeze. You smiled against his skin and let your eyes come to a close.
Newt sat quietly, formulating sentences but only coming up with one, “I’m just… so lucky to have you,” he whispered again.
“Listen, we have very thin walls and I heard you crying in the shower, are you okay?” au Pleaseeeeee!!
I know it’s like 5:30 am but I hope you like it! (also on ao3!)
Derek wasn’t usually a nosy neighbor. Quite the opposite, in fact.
He was an introvert at heart. He had been ever since he was a little kid.
It was just another facet of his personality, one that his sisters and absolutely adored poking fun at. It was a great source of entertainment amongst a pack of werewolves that valued camaraderie and community above all else.
That wasn’t to say Derek didn’t cherish those values just as much as the rest of his pack. In fact, he appreciated them more than anyone else solely because he was so selective about the company he kept.
In high school, he had only had two friends, Boyd and Erica, who managed to accommodate his reticence and dry humor enough to want to actively hang out with him. Beyond them, he didn’t have many friends, or acquaintances period.
Sure, he had been popular enough thanks to the positions he held on the basketball and baseball teams — being captain wasn’t something to turn one’s nose up at — but that popularity was limited outside of games.
He had never been invited to the parties celebrating the wins that he was mostly responsible. He had always been both grateful for and annoyed by that fact: on one hand he hated parties with a passion but on the other hand, it was nice to be invited.
While he almost single-handedly carried both teams he played on, he had always been, and always would be, a nerd at heart. He would take a quiet afternoon spent reading and sipping tea over a raucous night partying any day.
That being said, it was no wonder why he became an English teacher.
After graduating from Stanford, he managed to secure a highly sought after position at the high school in his hometown. Apparently, the previous holder of the position was a darach, reminding him of just how crazy the little town of Beacon Hills was.
After a few months of living with his parents while he settled into his new job, Derek found himself an apartment in town. It was closer to the school than the Hale House which meant a shorter commute which in turn meant he could sleep in for just a little longer.
In his seven years living in his apartment he had seen several neighbors come and go, nearly half a dozen or so. And all of them had their little quirks.
First, there had been Mrs. Peterson with her seven cats and fifteen grandchildren. She had been bright and sunny, always bringing Derek cookies and pies and other baked goods.
She used to play oldies at all hours of the night. She claimed it was the only way she could stay asleep for more than a few hours at a time.
She eventually moved out of the building in order to live with one of her grandchildren in Florida. Her seven cats went with her.
Mr. Twain was his next neighbor, a balding middle aged man who was going through a messy divorce. He smoked enough pot to mellow out an alpha on the full moon, the smell seeping into Derek’s apartment.
After meeting a nice woman with two kids, Mr. Twain got married and moved out of his apartment. Unfortunately, the stench of cheap pot lingered long after he had left.
His next neighbor was Riley Morris, a single mother of three who worked two jobs. Her dog, a little ankle biting Yorkie, rarely shut up.
Derek wasn’t proud of it, but he had resorted to flashing his eyes at the little yapper just to get it to shut the hell up so he could grade papers.
She moved out after getting a promotion that allowed her to quit her second job and move into a small house. Derek never once missed the incessant barking of her damned Yorkie.
Next came Taylor Rhodes, a recent college graduate reveling in all of the luxuries of life. From a downright ridiculous amount of sex to illegal drugs, she embraced all aspects of hedonism.
Of course, that was eventually her downfall. She was arrested only five months after moving in.
The other neighbors weren’t exactly worth mentioning, a bickering couple bogged down by asinine gender roles followed by an old teammate of Derek’s that was addicted to Netflix and rarely showered.
Supposed Secret weapon of the CIA- The Heart Attack Gun
In 1975, the CIA declassified this formally secret weapon at a conference dealing with rogue activities of the secret service. A poison-coated dart is shot at close-range which then penetrates clothing, skin, and finally a major organ, leaving nothing but a tiny red dot on the skin. On penetration of the deadly dart, the individual targeted for assassination may feel as if bitten by a mosquito, or they may not feel anything at all. Supposedly, this dart then disintegrates upon entering the target, all while the lethal poison rapidly enters the bloodstream and causes a heart attack. Once the damage is done, the poison denatures quickly, so that an autopsy is very unlikely to detect that the heart attack resulted from anything other than natural causes.
Conspiracy theorists have connected many deaths to this weapon, including those of Antonin Scalia, an associate judge of the US Supreme Courts, and businessman Andrew Breitbart.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader / (implied) Namjoon x Reader
Genre: Merman!Au / Angst / One-shot
RatedT for mentions of death
Word count: 6.4k
Synopsis: Every night, a song crawls from the woods - they say it’s the lullaby of a monstrous creature that has fallen from grace, a beast fiery like fire and ruthless like ice. Yet, his voice is such beautiful one that the cords of your heart quiver with love for each, saccharine note piercing your skin.
And every night, he draws you in a bit more.
Author’s note: Hello my lovelies! This is my second request (Cold waters, warm touches + His beauty could kill you + Merman!Jeon), at first it was supposed to be a fluffy one but, uhm… it accidentally ended up being another angst *sweats*
Anyway, dear anon, thank you for the nice concept, please lemme know if you liked it <3
There’s a legend,
whispered among the sunbeams getting lost in the forest at the borders of the
There’s legend, one of
a terrible, alluring kind, that widens children’s eyes and makes hearts tremble
beneath the warnings of worried mothers.
There’s a legend, more
like a secret or maybe a dream, deep carved into the memories of your innocent
days; one that has your glances wander into the shadows of the woods when you
think that nobody is watching, that nobody is judging.
It’s a legend, they
say, about a creature doomed to live in the lake at the center of the forest:
oh, a ruthless one, with eyes like broken glass and thick blood covering its
claws. Murderous are its intents and fury tints its flesh with such poisonous
vigour that the water is now no different from the venom running under his skin.
Prompt: REQUEST COMING THROUGH! Idk if you know what a stick and poke tattoo is, but I was wondering if I could have one with Joon where he gives the reader a stick and poke tattoo? I know he’s pretty clumsy but I feel like doing something like that for someone who he loves he’d be super careful. (if not pick any other member i’m cool with all my boys). I just think it’d be something sort of intimate cos it kinda hurts. and then maybe it could lead to some sexy times? THANKS LUV U
Author: Admin Kaycie
Summary: “You know,” He began carefully, voice lowering as he leaned back over your body, pushing the needle into your flesh again slowly. “I’ve heard that for some pain can be an aphrodisiac…”
Tags: Mentions of Tattooing (needles, blood, etc.), Dirty Talk, Mutual Masturbation, Daddy!Joon, Baby Girl, etc.
Please note, I am no expert in the art of anything tattoo related, so please do not try to be rude if I messed up any of the details as far as that goes.
concept: every word that’s thought about you appears on your skin like a tattoo.
there’s your best friend, aromantic and proud of it, the kindest person you’ve ever met. she knows everybody in your grade by name and she has more friends than anyone you know. she won’t ever wear shorts because she’s embarrassed of showing her legs where she’s covered in compliments, proof that she is loved a thousand times over.
there’s the boy who loves reading and drawing and other boys. he comes to school with sharpied artwork all over his skin to cover up the words that scream QUEER over and over and over. he holds himself tall and smiles at everyone and when people see him, they think masterpiece before they think gay.
there’s the most popular girl in high school, four-time homecoming queen, who harbors a secret love for math. at lunch her friend wrinkles his nose at her calculus homework - “damn, you’re such a nerd.” she laughs it off and every time her heart breaks a little. NICE and PRETTY dot her skin like freckles, but she’d burn all of them off just for one SMART.
there’s the boy you sit behind in english class with soft eyes and a tragic smile. one day his sleeves slip back and you see JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY snaking across his arm and between the slits on his wrist. so for a week you concentrate on the same thought, and on friday you finally see the product of your labor: YOU ARE LOVED YOU ARE LOVED all across his hand and crowding out the words on his wrist. he touches it every few minutes, gently, like he can’t believe it’s really there, and you smile so hard you almost cry.
and there’s you, with a patchwork of compliments intertwined with the insults: your hipbones read FAT and your ankles read I WISH I WERE YOUR FRIEND. some nights you spend hours in front of the mirror, fingers tracing over the constellations patterned across your skin, wondering which words came from whom. sometimes you find an extra I LOVE YOU tucked into the curve of your elbow and you’re ecstatic, but when it fades away days later you feel like you’ve lost something. most of the words come and go, but always, over your heart, there’s this: YOU WILL MAKE IT. and on the bad days when all you want is to fall onto your bed and cry your eyes out and never get back up, you look in the mirror instead and think, you will make it. you will make it, i swear. you will.
“He saw green, everything around him shone in brilliant colours of green.
It seemed like he was swimming in a small lake surrounded by trees and the air was loaded with the heavy scent of an old and deep forest.
He could see the sun shining through the treetops. Birds were singing, insects buzzing and not far away it sounded like a fox rustling through the undergrowth.
He could hear and smell so much. The heartbeats and cautious steps of different animals, the soft rushing of water and the rustling of leaves in the wind, the wing flutter of birds and insects. There was the fresh and deep smell of cool humidity, of soil and plants, sweet flowers and resin, wood and … the pure warmth of sunshine. This place felt so strange, so… unbelievable peaceful. There was no trace of humans, no stench of a nearby city or even village, no gunpowder, no … wolfsbane. Just pure nature.
There was a smell, something new. Something he never smelled before but so familiar at the same time. He slowly turned around himself in the water and surveyed the lakeshore.
Between branches, twigs and leafage was a person. A boy in fact, with almost amber, gold coloured eyes, pale skin, dotted with moles… there was paint smeared on the skin, fox fur around his shoulders. He looked human, but wasn’t.