In which you slow dance with the one and only Star-Lord. (insp.)
so desperately wanted to be called Star-Lord, but everyone called him Quill.
Except for you. You preferred to use Peter, and maybe that was why he fell in
love so hard. Rarely did anyone address him without a tinge of sarcasm or
playful banter in their voice—something he was very guilty of reciprocating—but
when you spoke to him, he felt validated in ways he never knew he could. You
gave him a sense of responsibility. A feeling of warmth and excitement. A drive
in life, fueled not by a desire for the admiration of others, but rather, a
need to make you feel the same way he did. Happy.
initial glimpse of Peter was the day of Ronan’s defeat. Hair disheveled.
Clothes torn. Face scratched up. He was dancing to a song you’d never heard,
and your entire body reacted. It tingled and shook from your toes, to your
heart strings, up your throat, to your brain where the sensation settled,
leaving only one thought. Shit. You’d gone through life thinking love at first
sight was nothing more than a myth. But there you were. In love. Or something
like it. You were stubborn when it came to things like that, so you chalked it
up to lust—somehow that felt more dignified.
was alcohol involved in your first encounter. That was always how these things
seemed to go. The big hero, off to celebrate at a local bar; you, the plain
civilian, coincidentally at the same place, standing in a corner. Music was playing, but the melodies were foreign,
and you could only assume that they were his. Most of them were upbeat, but
occasionally things would slow down a little, and that’s when he shined the
brightest. He’d move about the room fluidly, pulling the other patrons close.
Dipping them, spinning them, pressing his body against theirs. Leaving a trail
of longing eyes in his wake. You couldn’t help but feel jealous, but at the
same time, you were grateful. Unless you were alone in the safety of your room,
dancing was not your forte. And so you nursed your drink and watched.
moved closer and you got a better look at his face, confirming that he was the
most unrealistically handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. It was the sort
of thing that held a hypnotic element, capturing your eyes and refusing to let
them free of his spell. The sappiness of it all was enough to make you inwardly
wretch, but as the gap in proximity closed, it became harder to deny fact.
So this just popped into my head last night when I couldn’t sleep. Set post-ACOWAR and contains nothing but fluff.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Feyre found herself commenting, smiling slightly as she tried not to groan in pleasure under Rhys’ hands.
He chuckled from where he was seated behind her, the sound sending a thrill through her spine, even decades into their relationship. “I should hope so; I have to keep my High Lady entertained somehow. Wouldn’t want her eternity to get boring.”
“Boring? How could I ever get bored with a mate who thinks so much of himself?” She shot back, though its effect was lost when she leaned further into him, her hands running over the legs that were on either side of her. She could feel the delicious heat of his bare chest so close behind her, the thin nightdress she was wearing a poor barrier between them.
Rhys’ fingers continued to comb through her hair, expertly separating it into three equal parts. “I take offense to that.”
Feyre let out an aborted snort. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” Rhys agreed, in a blithe voice.
They fell into a comfortable silence then, built on years of learning how to just be together. Neither of them felt the need to always fill the air between them with pointless chatter. Oh, they liked to joke and bicker… but they also knew when to let words fade away and just enjoy each other’s company.
It had been happening more of late, likely because Rhys had refused to leave Feyre’s side for the past few months. He was a constant presence at her side, though he did his best not to hover too much (he knew all too well how she loathed feeling locked in, how it still made her bones lock up in fear, even after all this time). He needn’t have worried; Feyre never, never felt tied down by her mate, never felt confined by him. She knew that even now, when he was so concerned about her, he would give her space if she asked.
(He’d once told her, in a fit of hopeless romanticism, that he would give her the very stars above Velaris if he could. Feyre had believed him, of course, if only because she said she would do the same for him.)
So Feyre was quiet, letting Rhys gently braid her hair as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. She’d been utterly surprised when he’d offered to do it for her earlier, after he’d heard her curse in front of the mirror while she struggled with trying to tame her wild locks into something more manageable. Feyre was so tired these days and sore too, the heavier she got. And she was constantly hot then cold, her hair always in the way and, Cauldron, she didn’t care for it much now and all the work it took to keep it neat, not when she was already so uncomfortable. She’d been beyond tempted to just chop it all off, had Rhys not stepped in when he did with his innocuous offer.
At first she tried to deny the existence of a problem but she really couldn’t hide anything from Rhys; he knew her too well, felt her struggles through their mating bond and tried to ease her discomfort as much as he could. (Rightly so, Feyre sometimes thought when she particularly annoyed with how limited she was lately, considering he’s the one that put me into this situation in the first place.)
So here they were, Rhys’s gentle hands working wonders on Feyre’s nerves, his fingers softly tugging at her hair as he built the braid into something spectacular; Feyre herself was usually no slouch when it came her hair (at least when she wasn’t so cranky), but she had the feeling that Rhys was even better. So many hidden talents, this mate of mine.
“Where’d you learn to do this?” she finally asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She’d felt his hesitancy when he first offered, that pang of grief that he’d been unable to conceal from her.
“My sister,” Rhys said after a long pause. His voice had lost that light-hearted edge from earlier, filled instead with wistful regret. “She’d come to me when our mother was too busy for it. She could have asked the servants, of course… but she liked to spend a few moments with me, I think. She continued to ask even long after she could do it by herself. I never had the heart to say no.”
Feyre’s own heart ached for her mate, for the family he’d lost so long ago. He rarely spoke of the little sister she’d never meet, even less so than his mother. From what she’d gleaned over the years, his sister had been quite a bit younger than him, had looked up to him in a way no one else ever had. Feyre couldn’t even imagine what it had been like for him to have to bury her broken body.
She rubbed her thumbs comfortingly over the sides of his knees. I’m sorry, she sent softly to him through their bond. I’m sorry.
Rhys’ mind caressed hers. Me too.
Feyre kept running her hands soothingly over him, tempted to turn around and pull him to her, wrap her arms around those broad shoulders of his. She didn’t though; the act of braiding seemed to calm him… like coming home to something he’d thought he’d long forgotten. (Still, she wished she could protect him from all the pain he endured… but that same pain had made him into the wonderful male he was today.)
When he was finally done, she saw his finished work briefly through his eyes, the image flashing through her mind.
“It’s beautiful,” Feyre said with a smile, reaching up to run her fingers over the intricate pattern he’d managed to weave her hair into. “Thank you.”
Rhys’ strong arms around wrapped around her body, finally pulling her back to rest against his chest. “I figured it was about time I got some practice,” he whispered in her ear as he moved one hand to cover her rounded belly. “I wouldn’t want our poor daughter to be left with an inept father.”
Feyre tangled her fingers with Rhys’, holding them over her stomach, where their unborn baby was slowly growing. “You could never be an inept father, Rhys,” she told him softly. Rhys only pressed kiss under her jaw in response, though she could feel his quiet gratitude for her faith in him. “Besides, how do you know it’ll be a girl?” Feyre continued, turning her head so she could arch an eyebrow at him.
Mischief lit his violet eyes. “Perhaps I asked Elain.”
Feyre leveled a look at him. “Elain would never tell you, even if she knew.” Her sister had become quite the responsible seer over the years, never revealing more than was necessary. (Well, that and Feyre had wanted it to be a surprise, telling Elain in no uncertain terms not to let Rhys charm the answer out of her.)
“Then let’s call it a father’s intuition,” Rhys replied now, unable to stop his grin.
Feyre laughed, leaning her head against the edge of his jaw. “She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger, isn’t she?”
“Of course,” he kissed her forehead, his happiness a near tangible thing. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Feyre could only cuddle in closer. She looked at where their joined hands were resting on her belly. Don’t worry, baby, she thought, we love you already, no what you turn out to be.
(A few years later, when their daughter runs up to Feyre, her hair braided in a crown around her head, little flowers carefully tucked in the midnight blue strands, she doesn’t need to ask who did it. Rhys’ proud smile is answer enough.)
So, what’s comforting is that even Buckleming, who apparently don’t understand these characters at all and only have a limited grasp of how pacing and plotting work, can do only so much to keep Dean and Cas away from each other. Because here we have it again - it’s Dean calling Cas, it’s Dean worrying about Cas, it’s Dean who keeps leaving voicemails even when Cas’ ignoring him, and it’s Dean who gets paired off with Cas as soon as there’s some pairing off going on - look at that final scene - Sam clearly spent some of the night, or the morning, talking with Eileen (and, subtextually, maybe something more, since he’s clearly been learning some sign language and Dean apparently did his best to leave them alone - so much so Eileen left without saying goodbye), and when Dean asks about her, Sam’s immediate reaction is, And what about Cas? and that’s simply the done thing and neither time nor tide nor bad writing can do anything against it.
As for the rest of it - Jesus. My watching notes are mostly exclamation points, angry emojis, a string of what? and one come on.
Because, really. I don’t even know where to start. Just off the top of my head: Crowley can be overconfident, yes, but he’s not an idiot; the UK doesn’t work like that at all; women are generally not happy when carrying a demon baby and generally know birthing said demon baby will have dire consequences (I mean, it’s 2017 - who hasn’t seen Rosemary’s Baby?); Sam and Dean confiding in ‘every hunter they know’ and asking for help when confronted with yet another shitstorm of epic proportions is not normal - it’s freaking new and very significant, so what the fuck are you doing just mentioning in in casual conversation? And even Mick, for all his faults, deserved better. Honestly, I’m just this close to start a crowdfunding to get both those idiots a severance package - it’s not like you have to be a screenwriter, for fuck’s sake - just - I don’t know - keep bees - learn yoga - travel to New Zealand - I don’t even - ugh.
I’m not sure what else there is to say about this episode. The Code is a bullshit idea and it doesn’t hold up, because, like, Nazi Extra n. 27 just ordered Ketch to kill both Sam and Dean, and they’re technically Men of Letters, so what is poor old Arthur supposed to do? Execute them, and then turn the gun on himself? And what was Toni’s punishment for burning half of Sam’s skin off, then? Also, you don’t really find orphans off the streets in England anymore, and it’s slightly difficult to turn them into super ninja assassins without anyone noticing (what about Timothy’s family?). And no, it doesn’t make any logical sense to exterminate every single hunter in America, and neither it makes sense to expect they’d obey every single order you give them. That’s not how you build your make-believe Nazi state - if you want to see how it’s actually done, just have a look around, for God’s sake - every other show is writing and tinkering with its own ‘the end is nigh’ plot simply by reading the bloody papers, why can’t you? And finally, yeah, upper class English people are generally annoying and they do dress in tweed from time to time, but not all of them - *channels Saint John Oliver’s spirit* -
The thing is, the difficult bit about storytelling (or, one of them) is that stories don’t work without problems or obstacles of some kind, but you also want your characters to be believable and behave like real people do, so you’ve got to find this fine balance between creating drama and not being transparent about it. Like, how many people realized Mick was going to die just from the damn promo? And, as a result, how many actually cared? His backstory was absurd, illogical, and a bad choice all around. Sam said Mick felt bad for killing that werewolf girl - good - show me. There’s your conflict, and there’s your canon-compliant and believable reason to make me care about Mick. No need to invent any of this Lord of the Flies nonsense.
(I did like the fact Ketch used the same lines on Mary as he used on Dean, though, even if that brings the total of queer-coded villains up to - all of them? - including stammering and blushing demon guy and, of course, Lucifer himself.)
LOL I laughed everytime I passed through this req in the ask box. Hope you like this! ^^
By the way. Part II of Penguins will be posted tomorrow. Be patient, you thirsty for Baeran souls :p
MC’s dad challenges them to a match
was nervous to meet your father, but also super excited.
now very curious on why did you take him to this dojo, weren’t you going to
lunch with your dad?
will, if you pass the test, young man.” Your
father says in a solemn tone.
he looks at you, that are face palming on a corner, then he looks at all the
judo students and your father adjusting his black belt, standing in position on
what is happening here?” “You must fight for my daughter’s love, young man.”
chuckles and is all like “Good one, dude. Now let’s grab lunch.” But no one in
the room is laughing.
OH! Your father… your father is serious! HOLY SHIT!
he doesn’t know judo, but he had to simulate some fight moves for his musicals.
He got this!
man is so caught up in showing what he got he ends up saying the lines of this
faced thousands of fists, hundreds of swords, the scars in my body *takes his
shirt off, gaining some ‘ohhhss’ from the female-and some male- students* prove
that I’ve endured pain, but let me tell you, there’s no pain like the one that
is being away from her, I’ll face millions of fists and thousands of swords to
not even confused, he’s hurt when you dad starts laughing. “Wow, young man, you’re
more dramatic than her, you make quite a pair.” You’re facepalming again as Zen
laughs along and hugs you.
dressed up so neatly to meet your dad.
he’s feeling completely dislocated when you take him to this dojo.
clothes won’t impress anybody here, young boy, you must earn my respect showing
poor thing nods and says he’ll do whatever it takes to show his worth, he doesn’t
even notice there is some student holding you in the back so he won’t see you
well, so now we fight.”
shit! He thought it was something simpler like bringing his family here or…
fight? He never had to fight before! Well, only on LOLOL, but still…
he sticks to his word. Yeah! He’ll show his worth, if it’s not physical
strength, it’s at least dignity.
sir. If it is for her, I’ll do it! I’ve lost an eye to protect her, I’m growing
so much because of her… so I suppose getting beat up by the man who raised her
should be an honor. Bring… bring it on.”
gets really surprised when everybody turns against your father. “You’re a
monster, professor!” “Ahh, the poor boy!” “You lost your eye for your girlfriend, dude?”
your father admits defeat, glaring at you as you pamper your boyfriend elling
him how brave he is.
little nervous for meeting your father.
calmer as you bring her to a dojo.
not any dojo, the one she used to train.
when she sees your father and your father sees her… well, for her it’s like
fate trying to bring you to her life way before that it actually happened.
for your father… “Try to prove you’ve
learned well, miss Kang.”
even fazed, she knows your father’s odd goofiness.
It’s time for you to show you’ve taught well too.” OH WOW
aside, she really admires your father and his wisdom, and now she appreciates
him even more knowing he raised you.
sure you did, considering you’re a good professor as much as you are a great
father.” She says, lowering her head in respect.
father chuckles, getting up and offering his hand for her to get up too. “Then
there’s no need for a match. I know you’ll be good to her as much as you were a
this time, because expect some friendly matches happening during your family
gathering in the future.
was the one to suggest a gathering with your father wherever he wanted
a dojo, huh? Ah yes, setting a meeting in his workplace shows his seriousness ,
Jumin must match this seriousness
you’re like “Jumin, there’s no need for that. Please, relax.” “I’ll relax as
soon as you father acknowledges me as being a man worth of your love.”
he’s definitely not relaxed as your father shows up in his judogi, bowing in
the traditional way before a match.
does the same, thinking this is the traditional greeting in your family or
something like this.
please… “ “No pleading, honey, your boyfriend already accepted the challenge.”
sir, challenges are not unfamiliar to me, since I’ve been facing the biggest
challenge of my life ever since I’ve met your daughter. The challenge of being
a suitable husband for her.”
did you just propose?” your father asks. “Yeah, Jumin, did you just propose?”
your father and you are looking at him in awe.
the surprise? It’s no secret I intend to espouse you soon, my love. As long as
if that’s what you want, and also your family, of course.”
and your father are looking at each other, like “what now?” “You ask me? I don’t
know!”. So your father decides to shrug
and just say that lunch is ready.
Jumin never knew he was being challenged for a match. He only did years later
after he espoused you.
so so nervous and trying so so so hard not to show.
a dojo, huh? Cool, ah… ahahahah, cooool. Who’s nervous?
my God, Saeyoung! It’s just where he works, it’s not like he’ll actually defy
you to a match.”
know, MC! Your father would never do such a thing! After all, I would have o
show him no mercy…” he adjusts his glasses and does this super low voice.
that so, young man? Then I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He yelps and grabs
you by your shoulder as your father show up out of nowhere! Shit! Is he a
had some basic martial arts training due to his time in the agency, but he’s
all rusty these days.
come on, he doesn’t want to do this! He can show how much of a disappointment he
is at a regular lunch.
Saeyoung…” you hate when he starts the self-depreciative humor, so you hug him.
he’s super flustered with your dad watching his, but… he regains some confidence.
young man?” “Oh my God! Would you really hit a guy with glasses? What kind of
example are you giving to your daughter?”
father notices the way you giggle and look at this ginger with so much love, so
he chuckles and pats his shoulder. “Well played, young man.”
so honored he gets to meet your father
when he finds out about the dojo, he shows even more respect
if you had told him before, he would bring the photos he took in one of his
trips to Japan
sure he and your father will have lots of things to talk about such noble
he’s quite surprised when your father says he can’t be with you if he doesn’t
win a match.
sorry, sir. I’m not sure I follow. Is this… a match for her honor?”
it wasn’t your father’s first idea, but now it is LOL
I don’t think this is right. Two men fighting for the honor of a lady in the 21st
century? No, your daughter is a free smart woman who can protect her honor
herself and make her own choices. I… I’m sorry, but I must refuse.”
he’s no fun. So your father just shrugs, a little embarrassed because he
thought the guy was serious.
you would be squealing by how awesome his speech was… if…
didn’t know he got it was just a joke from the beggining. Sneaky little V…
am i the only one who feels like roman is trying a bit too hard to be upbeat? sure, patton is too, but i think roman thinks that, while patton is emotion and has reason to feel down, roman himself is creativity, and there’s nothing negative about creativity. throughout the video, his actions are exaggerated (“look up the word joke in the dictionary!!”) and over the top. he’s clearly torn up over the breakup, as he keeps trying to think up ways to bring the relationship back, but he’s also trying to be his usual self, to not show how hard he’s taking this - this time, however, it’s too forced and it shows. maybe it’s just me, but personally i think roman is trying a bit too hard to be happy, either so the others won’t see that he too is feeling sad, or so that he can still contribute positivity to the group. after all, if dramatic, flamboyant roman isn’t bringing his loud personality to the table, then what has he got to offer?
REQUEST: you catch him masturbating while thinking of you
and he gets super embarrassed. smut ensues.
Warnings: Mentions of past abuse/scars, explicit unprotected sex, y’all (wrap it before u tap it)
Word Count: 1,610 (i got so carried away)
You were house-sitting for Tina and Queenie while they went
off with Newt to find some magical beast or another. Well, okay, you were
house-sitting and Credence-sitting, since he hadn’t felt up to traveling
anywhere. You’d known the group for a good few months now, since you owned a
book store just across the street from their building, so it really was no
But when you said it was no trouble, it was because you had
a very fond friendship with Credence and because you wouldn’t mind spending a
good few days with him in the comfortable reverie you’d established. What you
hadn’t accounted for was exactly what happened. It was late one night, maybe
three days into house-sitting, when you heard it. You hadn’t been able to
sleep, so you sat in the common area to read, and heard— It was a low sound,
and throaty. Coming from Credence’s room. You weren’t exactly sure what was going
on in there, so you got up and stepped toward his room cautiously, worried that
he could be having a nightmare again.
But then your name rushed out of him, a quiet whisper so low
you weren’t sure if you’d heard correctly, so you did what any person would do
upon hearing their name called: you opened the door. And really, you would have
been prepared for anything, literally anything, aside from what you opened the
door to see. Which was Credence. Credence, with a hand shoved down his pants
and his head thrown back against his white pillow, revealing a long column of
smooth white neck framed by raven-black hair. Credence, dripping sweat that
caused his hair to frame his high cheekbones and his lips.
Mortified, you closed the door and tried to tip-toe your way
back to your seat to read. You couldn’t shake what you’d seen from your head
though. You hadn’t really actively thought of him that way; sure, you thought
he was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking, but… You had never thought of him
splayed across his sheets, never thought of him making sounds like those,
sounds that went straight to your core, never thought of him under you, on top
of you, and—You had to stop. You were starting to get a little hazy yourself,
and it certainly didn’t help anything when you remembered he had said your
Some time had passed when he emerged from his room, head
ducked low, pants repositioned, and belt in hand. That you were confused about. And then he was standing right in
front of you, kneeling down, making himself so small, and handing you the belt.
You took it in your hands, just puzzling over it, when you looked to see tears
dripping from his face to the floor and remembered what he’d told you—about his
mother. You gasped and threw the thing all the way across the room and fretted
over him when he flinched. “Credence,
I—How could you think I would hurt you with that?”
His wide eyes, glossy with new tears, chanced a glance up at
you through long eyelashes. “M-Ma said that it—That what I was doing in there—That
it’s a sin. And that—That sins can’t go unp-punished.”
You sighed, low and full, and didn’t miss the way his eyes
flicked to your mouth before returning to the floor. You slid from your seat,
kneeling in front of him, making yourself just as small. “It isn’t wrong to—to feel
things, Credence. And that—What you were doing is only human. Everyone does
that. It isn’t wrong, Credence.” You kept your voice soft, trying to soothe
Credence glanced to you again, and when he spoke, it was so
soft that you were sure you must have heard him wrong. “W-Was thinking of you
Everything in you stilled at that. You were having a very
hard time not kissing him right that second, not taking him right there on the
living room floor, so you had to say through gritted teeth, “No. That’s not
He finally met your eyes and must have seen what you were
trying to hide behind your eyes because he very
tentatively brought his hand forward to hold yours, his fingers playing at the
edges of your palm. “D-Do you think of me too?” Credence certainly couldn’t
have said that. You must have imagined it.
You indulged an answer anyway. “Well, I do now.” Your voice
was just as quiet as his was, so quiet you must have been afraid to shatter the
moment that had sparked between the two of you.
Credence blushed at that, and you weren’t sure if he was
surprised by your answer or the fact that you had admitted it, to him, out
loud. But the answer seemed to be enough for him as he posed his next thought
to you. “Y-You can—You can kiss me, if you want to, Y/N.”
And that was more than enough, that’s for sure, after how
you had been holding back. One of your hands went straight for his face while
the other hooked into the top of his pajama pants and pulled him fully against
you as you kissed him, and kissed him in earnest. He was shy, clearly mimicking
your moves and the way you slid your lips against his, but he picked up soon
enough when your tongue entered his mouth. It continued like that for a while,
tentative exploration, but when he finally dared to poke his tongue out and
into your mouth, you couldn’t help but suck lightly. And Credence let out the
most unholy of sounds and it went right to your core as you pulled back to kiss
down his neck and suck harshly at his collar bones. You tugged at his shirt and
asked, “Is this okay?” Credence gave a hasty nod before removing his shirt, and
yours, and falling between your legs as you scrambled onto the couch. He was
hovering above you, hair so much longer than before and sweeping into his eyes.
You reached a hand up to brush it out of his face and found yourself whispering
reverently, “You’re so beautiful,
He flushed red at that, and you thought fondly that it was
adorable that his blush spread across his bare shoulders. “You really think so?”
His voice was breathy and strained and absolutely wrecked, and you were sure he
was thinking about all of the scars that you could so clearly see in the warm
light of the apartment.
You kissed the corner of his eye. “Beautiful.” You kissed
his nose. “Beautiful.” His mouth. “Beautiful.” Down his neck and chest, across
all of his scars. “Beautiful.” Credence shuddered every time and began slowly
rocking his hips against yours.
You didn’t think he really knew what to do, but he was
getting the idea because, once he had started pushing his hips against you, he
got some of the friction he’d been needing and began to move harder, faster
against you. You gasped and let out a long, low moan at the way he was rubbing
against you, and you opened your eyes to see Credence staring down at you, eyes
wide and disbelieving and mouth hanging open. You tentatively moved your hands
under his pants to grip his ass and push him down further against you, giving
the both of you more attention where you needed it, and nearly had an orgasm
that second at the strangled “Yes”
that left Credence’s mouth.
You slid his pants down further, and he understood, kicking
them off as you hastily removed your underwear and drew him back against you
with your legs. “Please.” You sounded
absolutely fucked out, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care at how needy you
were being as you scraped your nails gently against him and pulled his hair
lightly. “Please.” The strain in your
voice was tangible.
You looked to him and were knocked out of breath at the pure
adoration in his eyes, the absolute awe. “Okay, just—Just help me, tell me
w-what to do, please. I want too, but I—”
You kissed him gently, to keep him from panic. “Of course,
Credence, of course.”
You positioned him correctly and let him enter you at his
own pace, moaning louder the further he pressed among intermittent cries of Yes and More and Beautiful. You
guided him with your hands on his ass for a while, but he picked up on his own,
letting out low, throaty moans and cries of your name that sounded vaguely like
a prayer, if you’d ever heard one. When you went to look in his eyes, you
noticed they were white as he opened them, with his obscurus curling around the
both of you, and you couldn’t help but think he was more beautiful than ever.
He felt incredible inside you, so you couldn’t help your
exclamation of “I love you” coming desperately from your lips, which caused him
to curl his body around you as he came, obscurus exploding around you both. You
came not long over that, the feeling of him pulsing inside you and his body
crushing you doing you in.
You let him collapse against you, ragged breath fanning
across your neck and shoulder, and stroked smooth lines up and down his back.
Minutes passed before he pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to the
hollow of your throat as he whispered, “I love you too.”
You heard his breaths even out and knew he was asleep, and
you couldn’t help but think you were very
glad to have agreed to house-sit.
A/N: Just a small piece for my fellow students who just went through/are going through the stress of midterms.
Spencer walked through the door juggling a tray of coffee and cupcakes from the local bakery in his hands. His foot shot back to close the door behind him as he tried to keep himself balanced. He could hear soft pop music playing throughout the small apartment, something quite different than the music of his own choice.
“Hey,” he greeted as he walked around your setup. You were seated on the floor with a circle of textbooks and papers all around you. The music was coming from the laptop that sat on your right as you skimmed through your textbook, eyes scanning along the lines quicker than the average student.
“Hey!” You replied with a smile as he passed you your drink. You’d been studying for hours now and the fact you had some company was enough to lift your spirit. You laughed as he bent down, eager to give you a kiss only to have your hand stop him.
“Nope. None of that. I have midterms to study for,” you replied knowingly as you set the coffee down on the floor. Spencer was an affectionate man and once he had you in his arms he wasn’t the type to let go so easily. He rolled his eyes teasingly before finding his own seat on the loveseat behind you.
“I brought cupcakes,” he announced as he set them down beside him. You glanced at the transparent box that held two chocolate and two vanilla cupcakes.
“Thanks but not right now. I’ll get a sugar rush and crash and that’s something I really can’t afford,” you replied with a heavy sigh. The thought of a chocolate cupcake with deliciously sweet pink frosting was tempting but you had to be responsible.
“Alright, suit yourself,” Spencer replied with a small grin as he dug into one. He chewed, savoring the rich taste of chocolate. “I’ll leave you one.”
You chuckled knowing that his sweet tooth was bigger than your own but ultimately returned your attention back to the book in front of you. Knowing he was there brought a nice sense of comfort even if you weren’t able to fully interact at the moment.
He remained quiet for a while as he observed you. For some reason your study spot of preference had always been on the floor and he often wondered just how comfortable that could be. But you were notorious for falling asleep easily, often drifting into hour long naps when you were supposed to be alert, and so the uncomfortableness of the floor helped keep you awake. Even so, Spencer still worried. He could already tell by the way you rolled your shoulders that your neck was aching from being in a hunched position the past few hours.
“Can I help?” he offered as he got down on the floor beside you. He moved some of your textbooks aside, entering the circle of papers you had made.
“Yes. How about you trade brains with me for a day so I can remember all of this,” you replied with a small grin as you kept your eyes on the words in front of you. “You’d have to deal with my constant thoughts of puppies if you took my brain but I think that would be a healthy change for you for a day.”
Spencer grinned at your rambles. His hand found its way to the soft skin of your cheek before he leaned in and placed a small kiss on your face.
“I would gladly trade my brain for yours if it meant you’d spend today with me,” he replied. “Actually with me. Not consumed by books.”
“Consumed by books? Have you forgotten what you’re like Dr. Reid?” you replied with a laugh. He smiled brightly knowing your comments were true.
“Let me help some way. You’re exhausted.”
“Ok. You read this to me and I’ll listen and hope it sticks in my mind.”
Spencer nodded in agreement as you passed your book to him, stopping to look at the cover. Meanwhile you took the opportunity to lay down on the floor, your legs resting on top of scattered worksheets and articles. Your neck ached from being in the same position for so long and the new position felt like heaven even if it was against a hard floor.
“Give me a kiss first and then I’ll read,” Spencer said with a mischievous grin. You laughed as he leaned over you, staring straight into your eyes with his lips just an inch away. “Kiss or you’re on your own.”
You couldn’t help the slight roll of your eyes at his blackmail but pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss nonetheless. His face held a goofy grin when you finally pulled away, his happiness evident in his eyes. You smiled, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers between his as he balanced the book in his other hand.
BTS reactions to their gf moving alot in their sleep
He would hate it but also love it at the same time. When you try to get comfortable then start huffing and puffing because ain’t nothing working, he would just pull you close to him. Boom you stop moving and become more comfortable. “Damn, maybe she was having a bad dream”.
Yoongi loves sleep and if he isn’t getting some because you are moving too much, he would hate himself. He doesn’t want to leave you or he’ll feel like an ass, he would just leave a note by your bed side and just go to the couch. The note would say something like, “you were moving to much and I was trying to get some sleep, please under stand- Love Yoongi”.
Thinks your having a bad dream, goes for a cuddle,then you (accidentally) push him, He feels hurt, then goes down stairs to get milk and just think, “where did I go wrong”.
Namjoon thought it was cute when you gave little moans of destress but knew you were never comfortable. He would just wake you up, “babe are you alright, do you want to talk about it”. The long “life” talk begins.
Poor, poor jimin would stay up all night rocking you to sleep in his arms. He wouldn’t mind it he thought it was a good deal. Jimin got to see your cute sleepy face and you got some sleep.
When you move he gets really nervous. Thinking all these things that made him more nervous. “Omg is she ok”, “dose she need water”, “wait is she having a SEIZURE”. He would wake you up and tell you that, and your just like “go to bed Kookie I’m fine”.
Jin really can’t help seeing you be stressed in sleep. He would literally pick you up, take you to the nearest chair, and put you too sleep himself. He was like your mom and was not gonna give up his place anytime soon.
A blurb of cassian getting sweaty and a little TOO excited on the dance floor at Rita's! (He's trying to woo Nesta!!)
“I don’t dance,” Nesta says in a bitter voice and takes one more sip from her wine. Cassian scoffs as he backs away, walking backwards into the dance floor. He downs his drink and hands it to a waitress who passes him by before he starts swaying to the music.
He has gotten compliments before, so he knows he’s got some moves, and it doesn’t take him long to get into it. The beat is a fast one, but not too fast. Only a few seconds of closing his eyes and feeling the music get him right into it, and his hips move slowly. As he opens his eyes, he finds Nesta observing him with more than just a regular look. A grin spreads across his face and he gestures for her to come closer. She rolls her eyes, but does, walking slowly, her eyes looking him top to bottom, then back to top. Her eyes are fixated on his as she reaches him and he took her hand.
“Don’t think I’ll ever do this again,” she mumbles, but takes his hand. He smiles and puts his other hand on her hip, pulling her close. She keeps up with his movements easily, and they get into a steady dancing rhythm.
“You’re a pretty good dancer for someone who doesn’t dance.”
“I said I don’t dance, not that I can’t,” she shoots back with no hesitation, making Cassian chuckle. He spins her around and catches the smile that tugs on her lips, which makes him pull her just a little bit closer. She didn’t protest.
They dance together easily, their bodies fitting so well it feels like they were meant to be together. Cassian feels inclined to believe it as Nesta inches closer to his face, making their nose tips touch. He inclines his head and lets their lips brush against each other. She pulls back at the last second, just as they were about to kiss, a smirk on her face. Cassian lets out a little frustrated groan, but the Cauldron must love him, because the song changes just then, into a sexy upbeat one. He turns Nesta around, pressing her back against him, and if she’s surprised by it, she doesn’t show it. They grind against each other with the song, and Cassian takes turns between running his hands up and down her waistline and run the tip of his nose up her neck. One time, his mouth comes close to her ear, close enough to bite it, but he doesn’t, and her sharp intake of breath makes him whisper to her that two can play that game. His hands go down to her thigh, but not too far, and her response is to press harder against his body. He gasps as he feels his cock start to harden, and Nesta must feel it too, because that only motivates her further. He bites her neck, then, and takes his time running a hand down her thigh and another to the stomach to keep her in place. Her head turns slowly to him, and just as their lips meet, the song ends, and they both stop moving, breathing heavily.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs into her lips. She smiles.
Anonymous said: Idk if you’ve already got a request for this before. But like maybe one where you are friends with the gang and has a crush on Archie since he always stood up for you when you were bullied but you never say anything bc Betty always like him and then chuck starts targeting you for his playbook & being his douchebag self and Archie loses his cool and a fight breaks out. You yell at him for getting himself hurt but then he confessed
Hey, I hope this is what you wanted. Thanks for reading!
It had been two months - two months since Betty and Jughead had started dating. And honestly they were great for each other.
At the booth, where the five of us spent most Friday nights , I couldn’t help but feel a blush over staring at Archie.
The light hit him just right, the way he giggled just made it impossible not to like him.
He had always been nice to me - since we were kids to even when he got on the football team. His school status may have changed but not the shining personality that was Archie Andrews.