woven bracelet


Since the finale of Mobile Suit Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans season 2, I was feeling emotional and it is indeed a tearjerker. I do love the series so far and it leads me to have the itchy feeling of ideas to make Atra Mixta’s woven bracelets. I did use the materials i have and be creative on it. I only made two which are Mikazuki Augus’ blue bracelet and Kudelia Aina Bernstein’s white bracelet.

I took pictures of my masterpiece of them including my plushie of Chibiterasu from Okamiden wearing not only one but two. Again I love Iron Blooded Orphans and I was happy to make the bracelets based off the anime series.

@crxmson-fxng, @warriorsxofxtsukino, @shikonchireru

Hello everybody!
Some of you may know that I’m struggling a lot right now, I’m facing eviction and homelessness, my food stamps have gone way down, and I need gas money to get to and from class. I lost to my job due to cutbacks and where I live it’s really hard for a young person to find work. However being the person I am I hate asking for handouts or donations or any sort of help with out giving anything in return, so I’m trying to sell most of things (I’ll have to get rid of it if we lose the house anyways) as well as some of my handmade things that I’ve sewn/knitted/crocheted, including my hand woven bracelets. If you can help me at all, a quarter, a dollar or two, I’ll send you a bracelet, and if you want a different color or pattern then just ask and I’ll oblige! I hate doing this because I hate asking for help but I don’t have a lot of other options currently. If you can’t help then please reblog and signal boost. Message me for my PayPal and to give me your address and let me know if you’d like to see anything else I’ve made, thank you for the support and I love all you guys 💗


A мартеница, мартинка, μάρτης or mărțișor is a white-and-red yarn adornment worn during March for health and safety. It’s a custom originating from pagan beliefs in the Balkans, presumably Thracian or Hellenic traditions, and is observed predominantly in Bulgaria, Greece, the Republic of Macedonia, Romania, Albania and Moldova.

According to tradition, the woven ornaments and bracelets should not be bought for oneself, but rather gifted to friends and family. They are pinned to clothing or tied around the wrist, and should not be taken off until the first signs of spring -  a stork, a swallow or a blossoming tree. Then the bracelets are taken off and tied to a tree.

These interwoven white and red strands serve to symbolize purity and life respectively, the power of Mother Nature and the circle of life, as well as the origin of man and the changing of seasons.

Safe Place (Anthony Ramos/Bullied!Short!Reader)

a request from @dianaftop !!!

They requested three fics: this is one of them!

dianaftop: on the Anthony Ramos x reader, the reader (me lol) meets Anthony in school while she was being bullied, because of the readers height. 

so here it is !!!!

hope you enjoy !!!

pssst I had to look up what a school day in America is like because I live in little old Wales ^^

also I used the name Annalise for a bully because I know a really horrible girl with that name so if that’s your name just replace it okay? :)

Safe Place (Anthony Ramos/Short!Bullied!Reader)

The school bell rings at 8:30, announcing yet another 7 hours of torture from your peers. You ttake a deep breath, steeling yourself up, and open the door. You groan as you see the crowd filling the hallway, all much taller than you. People are barging into you left, right and center, when all you wanted was to get to your locker!

Finally, you arrive at your locker - locker number 46 - and you freeze up as you notice something.

Scrawled across the metal door was a variety of insults.



Nobody likes you!

Just go die already, midget!



You look down at the floor, not wanting to let any of your abusers see how they had affected you. The corridor slowly empties as everyone leaves to homeroom, leaving you alone to cry silently. 

Quiet footsteps begin tapping down the hall and you involuntarily flinch, even though you know that your bullies would normally have shouted out to you by now.

The footsteps come to a halt beside you, and you turn away from the person, snivelling.

“Hey,” A hand rests on your shoulder. “Are you…okay? Is this your locker?”

The voice, a guy, was nice. Soothing. You unconsciously lean towards him, towards his hand.

“Yeah. This is my locker.” You whisper hoarsely.

“Look at me.” The guy says gently. You reluctantly tear your eyes away from the floor and-

Oh. He’s attractive, You think, and silently curse yourself in your head for noticing that when you’re upset. 

It was true though. A puff of curly brown hair, tied back in a low ponytail, sat atop a smiling, freckled face in a way that could only be described as cute. Cute in both a hot and an adorable way. He wore a deep blue polo-neck and tan trousers, and you stifled a smile when you saw a woven leather bracelet with a -was that a turtle?- charm around his wrist.

“My name is Anthony. Anthony Ramos. I’m new here.” He introduces himself, keeping one hand on your shoulder but offering his other hand to you.

“…(Name) (Last Name).” You mumble, shaking his hand. He surprises you by raising your hand to his lips to kiss. You flush bright red. Who even does that any more? You think, but you can’t say you didn’t like it.

“Now, why would anyone bully such a cute girl?” Anthony asks, cocking his head in puzzlement. You blush even brighter. Surely he was messing with you?

“…I don’t know. I guess I’m an easy target because I’m short and un-intimidating.” Your voice trembles on this. You let out a noise of shock when Anthony pulls you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head.

“…You can cry if you want. I don’t judge.” He murmurs. The waterworks start and you bury your face into his chest as the tears start flowing freely. Anthony holds you and rocks you as you continue crying quietly. When you’re finished, he fishes a small pack of tissues out of his pocket and hands you one. You sniffle lightly.

“Why did you comfort me? I’m just a stranger.” You ask shakily. To your surprise, Anthony blushes and struggles to find the words.

“I…I don’t like seeing other people upset…but I thought you were really pretty so I really wanted to wipe away your sadness.” He stutters. He takes a deep breath and smiles at you. “Hey - I think we’ve pretty much missed Homeroom, so we may as well get to first lesson. What d'you have?”

“Um.” You pull your planner from your bag and squint at it. “Intermediate Theatre Arts with Mrs Miller.”

“Eyo! Same here!” He grins, a dimple in his cheek popping. “You’ll have to show me the ropes.”

You find it in yourself to smile at him. “I’d love to.”

Over time, Anthony became close friends with a group of people in your theatre class, Lin, Leslie, Renee, Jasmine, Phillipa, Daveed and Oak. However, you stayed his best friend all throughout the year. You were inseparable. He was always helping you, with your bullies, with your friendships, and even when you got into a fight with your mother halfway through the year, he let you stay with him and his family until you made up. He even took you to prom when nobody else would, despite Jasmine’s blatant crush on him and her hinting that she wanted to go with him. There was only one thing you didn’t confide in him with.


You know how cliche it is, but over the year, you managed to fall in love with Anthony. He was so sensitive, smart and kind that how could you not love him?

Now, on the final stretch of your final year, graduation is looming, and you still haven’t told hI’m.

Wednesday, last period. Music.

“Yo!” Your lanky, over-the-top best-friend-turned-crush sidles up behind you with his guitar on his back and wraps his arms around your neck in an affectionate, backwards hug. You smile and pat his hand.

“Hey, Ant. My freckled babe.” You tease. This was a joke between you two, in which you would call each other babe because you were so close and people thought you were dating.

“Hiya, babes.” He boops your nose. “What’s my favourite girl working on now?” He asks, reaching out to grab your music. You quickly snatch it out of his grasp.

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so.” You wiggle a finger at him. “It’s a surprise.“ 

“Aw.” Anthony pouts. “Can’t I see it? I’m your best friend.” He whines. You giggle.

“Like I said, it's a surprise, silly!" 

"Awww…okay.” He scrunches his nose up and shakes his head to get his curls out of his vision. “I’ll see you later.” He kisses your cheek, causing you to splutter unintelligibly.

He takes his guitar over to the far corner where nobody else is and begins strumming, focusing completely on the guitar. You watch him for a while. Every now and then he’ll look up, make a disgruntled expression and shake his head, muttering under his breath.

“Hey, Shortbus.” You hear, before a hand tugs on your hair and pulls your head back.

“Ah-ow!” You wince and look up. One of the school bullies, Annalise, is smirking down at you with a smug expression. 

“Aw, has the little midget got a cruuuush? Sorry, sweetie, but he’s way out of your league.” She cooes in a horrible tone. 

“Leave me alone, Annalise.” You mutter, but she scowls and yanks your hair again.

“I don’t think so. Now.” She glances at your music sheets. “What are these? Are you writing a song for lover boy?” Her eyes glitter as she swipes up your sheets and reads them. You gasp and reach out to grab them back, protesting. She glares at you, a cruel smile curling her lip. “Are you kidding? These songs are so cringy, Shortbus. Helpless?  The hell kind of song name is that?” She giggles.

“Annalise…” You beg. “Please, leave me alone.”

Annalise laughs. “Hell no. I’m going to go and show these to Anthony.”

“No-no no, please!” You plead, staring up at her. “Please!”

She smirks and sashays over to Anthony, saying something to him in a low voice and showing him your sheet music, the piece of your heart that you had poured into this song.

Anthony grabs the sheet off of her, eyes scanning every line. Annalise smiles triumphantly in your direction.

You expect an upset expression to cross Anthony’s face, for him to look disturbed, disgusted.

You do not expect his face to form into the widest smile you have ever seen. You do not expect for him to look this happy.

He looks up at you, halfway across the room, eyes alight and hopeful.

The bell rings, and you stand up quickly, trying to exit the room before anyone else. However - just your luck, some of the class gets out before you and you feel a hand grasp your wrist, keeping you behind.

Everyone leaves the room, including the teacher, and you’re stuck standing with Anthony holding onto your wrist. You sigh and turn to him.

“Anthony…” You begin.

“I love you!” He blurts out, and you freeze.

“I…what?” You look up at him in astonishment, and hope.

“I love you, so much. Please…was that song that Annalise showed me written for me?” He asks, eyes pleading. A slow, steady smile crosses your face.

“Yes.” You whisper, and Anthony lets out a loud whoop of laughter and pulls you close. “Anthony-”

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” He giggles into your hair, and you let out a short burst of laughter.

“I love you too!” You thread your fingers through his hair and laugh, burying your face into his shoulder. "I can’t believe that Annalise…was trying to bring a rift between us…but she failed and just brought us closer together!“ You say breathlessly.

Anthony pulls back from the hug and looks down at you, studying your expression. He seems to be deliberating something before he mumbles "To hell with it,” and crashes his lips onto yours. You gasp into the kiss and pull yourself closer to him, thumb caressing his cheek.

The kiss is short and sweet, and he pulls back with a laugh. “I’m your safe place.” He says.


Evie loves Serena.
(This spilled out after watching the episode where Evie asks Serena what her favourite colour is; gives her a loom bracelet as close as she can find; tries to charge her 50p, then gives it away for free. I need more Serena/ Fletchlings in my life, and my brain can’t seem to finish an entire fic, so back to the snippets!) 
Canon-compliant, as in, Elinor is dead. And after that spring trailer, I really had to soothe myself with this! 

It;s been a long day on top of an even longer night. Serena sits at her desk and draws deep breath after deep breath, her finger digging in to her temples, trying to squeeze out the sound of her own voice snapping at Morven, snapping at Fletch, almost at Bernie… and all out shouting at Jasmine.
Serena’s sigh at the thought turns to a barely restrained growl as a timid knock interrupts her gathering clouds. She barks out permission, the stony mask she’s briskly donning faltering in surprise as a head bout two foot sorter than she was expecting pokes gingerly around the door. 
“Evie,” her voice is flat, but she sits upright and Evie opens the door fully to enter the office. She’s briefly stopped by Fletch, who pops up behind her, hand on her shoulder. 
“She really wanted to see ya,” Fletch raises his eyebrows, perched somewhere between asking permission and offering apology. Serena manages a tired, half smile as she looks at him. 
Maybe he doesn’t miss the way her smile falters when her eyes drift over Evie; the way the edges of her features crease in pained memory, but when Evie’s hands fiddle nervously with the straps of her rucksack, and she offers a soft
“Hey, Serena,”, Serena’s eyes glisten, and his shoulders relax slightly as the faintest wink  makes Evie smile.
“It’s fine, Fletch,”
He nods, and with a squeeze of Evie’s shoulders and a five minute warning, he clicks the door softly behind him. 
Serena steels herself, but finds that the smile she’s prepared to force out comes almost naturally when Evie still looks very much like just-Evie in front of her.
“What can I do for you, Miss Fletcher?” she asks. Evie shrugs out of her rucksack, and pulls one of the chairs close to Serena’s. She rummages in her coat pocket for a moment, before pulling out her closed fist. 
“Everyone always says sorry, don’t they,” Evie shrugs as Serena raises an eyebrow. “It used to really irritate me. Still does, sometimes. But, like, now I sort of understand why. Like, they can’t think of anything else to say, can they? And maybe they mean that they wish your weren’t sad, that they could make it go away, that if they could they’d make the world right again.”
Serena’s heart begins pounding, her breathing quickening and her jaw works had to keep her lips from trembling. Evie reaches out with both hands, gingerly, and takes Serena’s. Serena squeezes Evie’s fingertips tightly as Evie’s thumbs stroke hers. “That’s what I mean, anyway.”
She wriggles her hand until Serena loosens her hold, and unclasps her palm, nimbly and efficiently manoeuvring Serena’s arm until Serena felt something light and soft wrapping her wrist, sitting just snugly enough. Evie moves her hands to allow Serena to hold her wrist up for examination. 
“It’s a friendship bracelet,” Evie explains, shyly. “Just so you always know that we love you, you know,” The trembling fingers of Serena’s other hand come up to ghost across the intricately woven bracelet, turning it this way and that, taking in the shades of colour. 
“Burgundy and ruby. And a bit of cherry, because Ella said you’d like cherries. And a strand of green coz… well, Bernie,” Evie rolls her eyes fondly, and Serena half laughs, half sobs. Evie stands, slowly, closes the gap between her and Serena and reaches out one hand to Serena’s shoulder.
“Oh, Evie,” Serena whispers, and pulls her close, unable to stop the tears as Evie’s hands wrap firmly around her neck. 
“I don’t think it gets better,” Evie mumbles into her ear, and Serena feels hot moisture along her neck as well as her own cheek. “But, it does get different, eventually.” 
They hold each other for a while, until they both sniffle and take deep, ragged breaths. Serena gently pushes Evie back, and swipes at the tears on her cheek. 
“You are very special, Evie Fletcher. I am so glad you’ve found me,”
Evie ducks her head, smiles up through her lashes. “Always, Serena,” 
She pecks her lightly on the cheek, wipes at her own cheeks before hefting her rucksack. “I better go before Dad starts goin’ on again,”
Serena stands and walks Evie to the door, sees her out with a final squeeze to her shoulder. She watches as Evie makes her way to the nurses station and immediately wraps her arms around Fletch, her eyes welling up again at his surprise, before he squishes her back and then heads for the doors. 
She stands, leaning against the window, absently stroking the bracelet on her wrist, until her eyes snap to the slowly opening door. Serena’s facial muscles work frantically as Bernie carefully enters their office and shuts the door behind her. She stares at Serena for a moment, waiting to weigh down on whichever side of the struggle wins. When Serena’s face crumples and she can’t hold back the heaving sobs any longer, Bernie steps forward, pulls her firmly to her chest, and waits for Serena’s arms to wrap around her, clinging, before she does the same. 
“Alright, Serena. I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Alright,” Bernie knows she can say no more; just holds Serena until the sobs subside into hiccups, until the hiccups are semi-concealed behind self-conscious laughs. She smiles encouragingly as Serena makes cosmetic attempts to pull herself together, and finally holds out Serena’s coat. 
“Come on, let’s go home.” 
They leave, and once outside, they link hands almost unconsciously, strands of friendship blowing out from under Serena’s sleeve and tickling Bernie’s fingers. 

One day, in the not-so-distant future, Evie (with specific input from the other Fletchlings) gives Bernie a bracelet. Serena had to have hers first, but Evie made them at the same time. Green is Bernie’s favourite colour, and her bracelet is reminiscent of a lush summer forest, flaked with deep red vines. Evie loves Serena, and Bernie loves Serena, so Evie loves Bernie, too. 

Changing Colors

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Well Will had been right about people being worried, when they had found their friends they had been a mix of relieved and furious, Nico didn’t need a spell to see that clearly. When they had first seen that Nico had been found Percy and Jason rushed over and crushed him in a tight hug and then proceeded to yell at him though they let up a bit when they noticed that his clothes had started to change to brown and black and grey.

They had agreed to go to the infirmary for the sake of privacy and to make sure that Nico was pushing himself. Once there Will had Nico go lay down on one of the beds and explained to the others how he had found Nico upstairs. “When he jumped into the shadows I hurried here to get the cure that Coach Hedge had told me about but when I realized that I was missing part of it I went up to the store room to find it and that’s where I found him.”

Nico lay curled up on the bed and breathed steadily after dozing off, lingering effects of his short jump it seemed were still there Will could tell, he had seen Nico’s clothes flash light blue before he laid down and not long after that he had been asleep. “I’m not sure if it was supposed to be a prank or what but I have a feeling I know who the culprits are, and I already assured Nico that it wasn’t a curse.” At that Percy and Jason both seemed like a weight had been lifted from them and Piper and Annabeth watched Nico as he slept, every now and then his clothes would change briefly.

Annabeth turned back to Will. “Well I’m sure that he’s going to be okay here so I guess we’ll just leave you to watch over him for us.” She smiled at Will, she had noted how the colors seemed to shift more when Will was talking or closer to Nico so she had a feeling she knew what was happening. “Come on Seaweed Brian, we should let him be for now. Until he’s better why don’t you guys come help Piper and I with sword training?” she grasped Percy’s hand and pulled him towards the door and Piper did the same with Jason, before leaving the room though Piper looked back at Nico and Will in turn and smiled before leaving.

A couple of hours later Nico woke up looking more refreshed, Will caught the glimpse of violet before Nico managed to gain control over his emotions and his clothes returned to normal again. Will bit back a smile of amusement before he spoke. “So I take it that you’re feeling better now?” Nico nodded as he stretched after sitting up on the edge of the bed. “I know it was stupid so you don’t have to remind me again, but since it was just a small jump it didn’t take as much out of me.” Will was glad that Nico understood why Will had been upset before, at least the son of Hades knew he had messed up, but all in all Will was just so thankful that he was safe.

“Well that’s good, no need for a continuation of the usual lecture then.” He smiled at Nico to let him know that he wasn’t upset anymore just relieved. Nico returned the smile, a mix of colors showing faintly as he seemed to fight down the effects of the spell, but Will had seen small amounts of light pink, violet, gold and true blue. He still didn’t know what all of them meant but he could just tell that they were positive emotions and for that he was glad because it meant that Nico was happy despite how little he let others see he wasn’t devoid of those emotions. “Now if only we had an idea as to why this whole mess was happening.” Nico said.

“Oh I think we can help you with that.” Both Nico and Will turned towards the door to see Lou Ellen and Butch standing in the doorway of the infirmary room, and standing just behind them were some campers from the Iris and Hecate cabins. Will already having had his suspicions about who was behind this just leaned back against his desk and waited for the explanation.

The younger campers standing back took a few steps forward into the room. “We’re sorry we upset you Nico, we didn’t know that would happen or that you might get hurt because of it.” The Hecate camper started, she looked to be about twelve or thirteen and the regret was evident on her face as she apologized. “We just thought that we could add some color to your wardrobe because you always wear such dark or dreary colors.” Will covered his moth to hide a smile because he agreed with them on that. “We weren’t sure how it would work, we just knew that the colors would change, we’re really, really sorry Nico.” The Iris camper was a boy about ten or so, he also seemed as earnest in his apology as his, accomplish? Will knew that they hadn’t meant any harm by it and he could tell by glancing at Nico that he understood this too.

“It’s okay, really. I’m still not used to being around a lot of people and don’t know any other way to react to things then to fight or run, I over reacted to the situation.” He glanced over at Will briefly before returning his attention back to the others. “I guess I could add more color to my wardrobe, but nothing hideous.” He shuddered thinking back to the tropical shirt he had to wear on his trip back from the ancient lands. The younger campers seemed to perk up at this. “We can help!”

Will, Lou Ellen and Butch laughed and Nico grinned at their enthusiasm. “On one condition, you get rid of whatever it is that you did to my stuff.” The kids agreed happily, it seemed that after the incident at breakfast those involved in this little plan went to the older campers in their cabins to explain what they had done and together they had found a way to revers it, though all involved would have to face the consequences of their actions still. These two having been the ones to carry the plan through were the ones chosen to come and apologize for all involved.

“And the next time you guys have a problem with my clothes, just come and tell me okay?” Nico said getting up from the bed. He also glanced sidelong at Will for a second including him in this as well. “Deal.” Came three voices in response causing Nico to smirk.

It was dinner time now and everything had returned to normal, Nico had his plain old clothes back. The kids had lifted the charm from all of his belongings that had been affected and as a gift of apology they had also given him a couple of woven bracelets with plenty of color for him to wear which he accepted gladly. Nico now sat at his usual table with his friends who were all happy to see that he was okay and that everything was back to normal.

“So Will said that you guys went to practice sword fighting while I was out, how’d that go?” Nico asked the girls who had joined them at their table. “It’d different than using a knife but I think we’re really getting the hang of this.” Piper said. “That’s great; I’ll have to try sparring with you at some point then.”

While they spoke Will came over and placed something in front of Nico before he headed back to his table. Nico paused and looked down to see a small box on the table in front of him. After a couple of heartbeats Jason poked Nico in the side to get his attention causing him to jump slightly. “Open it.” Everyone was curious what it could be so they all leaned in for a better look. Just as curious as the others Nico needed no more prodding so he undid the little ribbon and opened the box to reveal a silver bracelet with a sun shaped charm on it and a strange little gem in it.

“Oh look it has a mood stone in it.” Piper said as Nico lifted the bracelet out of the box, he looked over at her with a puzzled look on his face. “I thought those were for rings.” Piper shook her head. “They can be on pretty much any piece of jewelry as long as it has contact with your skin so that it can change color.” Nico looked closer at it as he held it in his hand and watched as it slowly started to change color; he glanced back at the box and saw a small piece of paper that indicated what each color meant. Violet = Happy he grinned as he unclasped it and then fastened it around his wrist with his other new accessories.

Nico looked over towards the Apollo table and saw Will looking his way. Nico smiled and raised his wrist high enough to show Will that he was wearing it and that he loved it. Will smiled brightly in return and lifted his own writs to reveal a glint of silver there.

Black = Intense, Stressed

Brown = Troubled, Restless

Red = Rage, Anger

Orange = Aggressive, Irritated, Edgy, Sarcastic

Golden Yellow = Hope

Yellow = Confused, Puzzled, Incredulous, Curious

Yellow-Green = Worried

Lime Green = Shocked, Surprised

Emerald Green = Triumph, Hyper, Energetic, Mischievous

Dark Green = Disgusted, Ill, Nauseous

Teal = Alert, Nervous

Ice Blue = Fear, Scared, Panic

Light Blue = Sleepy, Tired

True Blue = Relaxed, Calm

Dark Blue = Bored

Blue-Violet = Serious, Confident, Concentrating

Violet = Happy, Pleased

Light Purple = Excited

Magenta = Embarrassed

Dark Pink = Silly

Light Pink = Flirty, Amused, Playful

White = Hollow, Blank, Void

Grey = Sad, Hopeless, Dejected, Discouraged, Gloomy

Blue-Grey = Sad for someone

Hello there Bisexual peeps!

My name is E.C Miller and I run a store called “Thready To Go” which specializes in LGBTQ related bracelets, namely pride flags!

There are currently 3 types of bracelets!

Large woven

External image

Small woven

External image


and Beaded!

External image

If you are interested please check out the store, it’s always open for buisness. They ship internationally and are done in a fairly quick pace at an inexpensive price! Also on top of that you are helping a fellow LGBTQ person! So everyone wins!

Don’t see a pride flag of yours? Don’t worry, I also do custom flags as well! If you are interested please check out the store and its custom order information or contact me @apeskyhedgehog

Thank you so much and have a great day!

//Store Link// 

@amedotbomb Day 3: Camping Trip

“-and we can make lanyards, and friendship bracelets, have a three-legged race, sing around the fire, swim, and- and-”

Peridot was clearly excited to go camping, the whole way there she talked about all the fun looking things she saw on Camp Pining Hearts.

“Wait, swim?” Amethyst had quieted Peridot down by putting her hand on her partner’s shoulder. “Don’t you sink like a, well, stone?”

“Steven gave me apparatuses to put on my arms to help me with my buoyancy issues,” Peridot puffed out her chest.”Swimming won’t be a problem for me.”

“Oh, cool,” seeing Peridot so excited is always cute. “Anything else you wanna do?”

Peridot’s eyes lit up and she began listing off activities once again.

The whole day was spent doing Peridot’s dream activities.

The three-legged race was a mess, Peridot tripped coming off of the starting line and Amethyst’s sturdiness kept her upright. This ended up hurting Peridot’s ankle.

Amethyst made it better by carrying and kissing her.

Swimming didn’t result in injuries but Peridot didn’t know how to so she ended up floating aimlessly.

Amethyst did give her private lessons so she could at least somewhat direct her movements.

Canoeing required more coordination than Peridot expected so they capsized.

Amethyst was quick to bring Peridot to the surface.

The majority of the day was like that, Peridot would run into some trouble and Amethyst would help her.

After everybody went into their tents Peridot pulled a hand-woven bracelet out of her pocket.

She frowned and faced Amethyst. “Today was a mess.”

Amethyst shrugged. “I kind of expected it. But hey, at least it was a fun mess. Well, except for the race. Your ankle feel better now?”

“Yeah, it does,” Peridot’s train of thought was derailed, she cleared her throat, “As I was saying, today was a mess.” She gently took Amethyst’s wrist. “But at least I managed to make a bracelet.”

Peridot tied it around Amethyst’s wrist.

Amethyst quietly chuckled. “Thanks.” She pulled a bracelet out of her bra. “I made one for you too.”

She tied it around Peridot’s wrist.

It wasn’t even remotely perfect but a lot of heart obviously went into it.

“I’m not as good at fiddly stuff as you,” Amethyst said with a blush.

“Wow, thanks,” Peridot hugged Amethyst tight. “I love it.”

There’s like a 50/50 chance that upon your first institutionalization you’ll retain any DBT or coping skills but you will 100% learn how to knit or crochet and make woven friendship bracelets

  • no offense but adam and ronan are the smushiest, cheesiest, sweetest goddamn boyfriends on the planet and they’re always doing this sappy romantic gestures and it’s almost like a competition, to see who can out do the other
  • and at the beginning it’s mostly ronan, because he’s been making these subtle grand romantic gestures from the beginning
    • like the lotion and the rent
    • and he’s like already ahead of adam on the romantic scoreboard
  • and adam can’t have that, being the ambitious motherfucker he is, so he starts seeing it as a “well Fine i’ll just have to catch up” situation
  • and the game begins
  • ronan starts appearing at st. agnes more often, and he’s bringing pizza and water bottles and a laptop loaded with illegally downloaded movies and they spend the night curled up together
  • ronan collects wildflowers and flowers from the garden at the barns and when adam visits ronan just kind sends him home with little bouquets
  • ronan keeps leaving handy little gifts in adam’s car
    • more lotion, dream-toothpaste, mixtapes, dream-headphones, friendship bracelets woven by opal, pretty little rocks he and opal found in the stream by the barns
  • and every time something small like this happens adam is happy and endeared and also freaking out because “i have to do something!” 
  • and it’s not that he feels obligated, it’s that he wants to make ronan happy and give him little gifts and gestures and remind ronan that it’s a two way street they’re on
    • it’s just
    • ronan is hard to shop for
  • so the next time ronan quietly gives adam a worn out paperback novel scrounged up from a shelf in the barns, adam unearths some of the magic cabeswater left him, some of the small etherealness left behind, and he lets a little flower bloom around the leather bracelets on ronan’s wrist
  • the next time adam visits the barns and ronan plays some records he found in niall’s room and he dances adam around the kitchen, both of them laughing and tripping on each other, adam pulls out a sharpie and draws on ronan’s arms until they both drift off to sleep on the couch
  • on one of the days that adam doesn’t have to work after school, which are rare and usually dedicated to sleep, he drives to the barns and allows ronan to coerce him into making a pillow fort
    • the interior of which adam graces with magical vines that twist around ronan’s fingers like happy lil snakes
  • when ronan is having a bad day and won’t tell adam because he still kind of isolates and martyrs himself, adam gently pushes him into the BMW passenger seat and drives them out into the middle of fucking nowhere 
    • and then they switch seats and adam tells him “drive as fast as you need to” 
    • ronan guns it down a straight stretch of road at 110 mph 
    • and when he stops sooner than adam thought, adam reaches over the center console and cups the back of ronan’s neck and recites stories about ley lines and glendower until ronan tells him to shut up and his smile comes back, prickly and thorny and perfect
  • eventually ronan catches on to adam’s unique reciprocation techniques and every adam does something remotely sweet or romantic ronan smacks a kiss onto his cheek/neck/shoulder/nearest available body part and dramatically tells him to fuck off
  • adam never falls for it and always kisses him back
  • basically their romantic gestures are constant and impeccable 

anonymous asked:

Thor is a pretty loud person. What would you do if he frightened a small child and they hid behind you?

This has actually happened before. I was reluctantly helping the Avengers with one of their missions, which I can’t specify what we were doing due to it’s classified status… Anyway, whenever I go on missions, Thor refuses to leave my side, as he thinks that forced proximity will become family bonding (and it does, I suppose).

We were strolling as civilians in a market looking for a “target” and he was loudly explaining some new Midgardian thing he’d learned from Jane. I remember making a remark about it, causing him to laugh in that vociferous and gratuitous way he does, causing this child walking in front of us to squeak and jump before running in fear

I thought that the little one had gone, but Thor laughed a second time, this time decidedly quieter while looking at my waist. I looked down only to find the hand of a small boy grasping my shirt. He had taken up residence behind me, clinging to me and shaking slightly. I didn’t know what to do with him, so I poked at his head. The small thing giggled, so I did it again.

Needless to say, I was speechless. I hadn’t a clue why this child had hidden behind me of all people. I tried hesitantly patting his head and telling him “there, there,” but that just caused him to curl in tighter. So, thinking of my experiences of fatherhood, I bended knee and hugged him back. I told him that my brother was just like a golden retriever, cuddly, endlessly cheerful, and had a very loud bark.

He still wouldn’t let go. I ended up picking him up and carrying him for the duration of the mission, he didn’t seem to mind and found my hair and faux glasses to be fascinating. I eventually got him to tolerate Thor, and we bonded over our dislike of his loud manner. Eventually, I carried him home to a worried mother, and shopkeeper, who thanked me for my help with a hand-woven bracelet. Thor has never let me live down the fact that I was used for protection, and the fact that I still wear the bracelet… What can I say? It’s green, I like it.

anonymous asked:

Any ideas on stim toys? that i can use when I'm out or in a class

If your school hasn’t banned them. Spinners are pretty popular right now.

Other stim toys that are subtle enough to use in class that wont likely cause a distraction are chewelry, fidget cubes, tangles, and hackey sacks. Things like lengths of string or ribbons or pieces of fabric with nice textures might also work. You could also wear beaded bracelets or woven ones, or really any kind that has a nice texture to stim with.

Other things I’ve heard of including tensing muscles or wiggling your toes. You can also flap your hands or flick your fingers, and do that below that table while in class. I’ve also set on my hands as a nice pressure stim.

- Os

Followers, any ideas?


Gryffindor: sparkling strawberry lemonade, doodling all over your school books, the warmth of the sun tickling the tip of your nose, falling asleep outside, picking berries, april fool’s pranks, jumping in puddles, waking up to a clear blue sky, the sound of laughter carrying through the air, climbing trees, playing hide and seek, sunny afternoons 

Ravenclaw: flower crowns, keeping a journal, dewdrops glittering in the meadows like stardust, getting up with the first ray of sunlight, the sound of the last frost crackling away under your steps, songbirds breaking the quiet of the world, rereading your favorite book, picnics at the lake, looking for four-leaf clovers, leaving the window open to catch a cool breeze, spring showers

Hufflepuff: brightly wrapped chocolate and toffee eggs, cherry blossoms, hand woven friendship bracelets, flushed cheeks, rainbows appearing in the sky after a rainy afternoon, a butterfly sitting on your outstretched hand, day dreaming, fluffy white clouds,  making a wish upon seeing the first dandelion of the season, buying a fun umbrella

Slytherin: freshly baked lemon cake, the smell of a new perfume, early morning showers, mint coloured clothes, wind tangling in your hair, waking before dawn, feeling alive, poetry, the rustling of grass under your feet, walks along the edge of the forest when everything starts to bloom and seems greener again, skipping stones across the lake

Correct {Luke Hemmings Smut}

RATING: Uh…smut?

I got pretty good feedback from my Ashton one, so here’s another…also, I decided that I’ll be accepting requests for smuts, fluffs and blurbs now :)


Your left foot rubbed up against your right leg as you sat at one of the many tables in the library, waiting and looking around nervously. Around you, a few students shuffled quietly, and the librarian, Ms. Rogers, sat at her desk, typing away on her computer.

You hadn’t meant to almost fail your math test. It had simply happened. You hadn’t been doing too hot before your test on cubic relations, but your mark on it had been the cherry on top. Your parents had called the school and set up appointments with the free tutoring program that was offered.

You were to meet with this tutor three times a week until the end of the school year, and hopefully it would be enough to pull up your grades…in math, at least.

You looked down at your jeans and plain white t-shirt before sighing, figuring that your tutor had ditched you. Deciding that it was pointless to stay and try to teach yourself the millions of equations and concepts, you zipped up your backpack and stood.

You picked up your binder, which was labelled with “Math” in squiggly, artistic cursive. Clutching the binder to your chest, you swung your bag over your left shoulder, walking to the doors of the library.

You pushed open the doors with a little more force than necessary, peeved that you had wasted your time and had actually believed that you could ever ameliorate in math.

But halfway through, you felt the doors hit something–hard. There was a muffled, “Oof!” from the outside of the library, and your eyes widened. You quickly slid through the small opening of the door and stared at the person you’d hit in shock and embarrassment.

“Crap,” you apologized, “I’m so sorry.”

It was then you realized who exactly you’d bumped into.

What was normally a very tall frame slouched slightly, his hand cradling his left shoulder. He wore a plain black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and black Converse. A silver dog chain hung from his neck, there were multiple rings on his fingers; and rubber bands and woven bracelets adorning his wrists.

He finally stood up straight, towering over you, and you stared up at him shamelessly, your cheeks burning.

Your eyes met crystal blue orbs, calculating and logical yet soft at the same time. His nose was slightly upturned, and his lips were the most luscious shade of pink, a small, dark lip ring tainting them. His hair was styled upwards and added about three inches to his already gigantic figure.

Of fucking course. You’d just had to injure Luke Hemmings, the star musician and heartthrob of your school.

You continued to stare up at him, and he glanced down at you. Quickly realizing that you must’ve looked like an idiot, you stared down at your shoes, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“No worries,” his Australian accent was prominent. You’d heard girls talking about how attractive it sounded and begrudgingly, you had to agree.

Luke scanned you over quickly, his electric eyes settling on the label of your mathematics binder. His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Is your name Y/N?”

Your face snapped up to look at him. Your left hand fiddled with the hem of your white top, and you bit your lip, praying that this wasn’t what you thought it was.

“Yes, why?”

“I’m Luke,” he said earnestly, holding out his hand and giving you a tiny smile. Rather than shaking his hand like a normal person, you blurted, “I know.”

You mentally face-palmed. Could you be any more pathetic?

Luke chuckled lightly. It was a cute sound, and he made you nervous. It wasn’t because you were attracted to him, because you weren’t…kind of. It was because this was the boy who had the entire student body and even some of the teachers wrapped around his finger. And here he was, conversing with you, a nobody.

“I think I’m your tutor,” Luke admitted, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine,” you waved off his apology, wanting the awkward phase to be over already. Luke looked around and then gestured to the library doors, “Shall we go in?”

You shot a look over your shoulder and nodded, swallowing heavily, “Uh yeah. Sorry again about hitting you.”

“It’s fine,” he chuckled lightly, walking past you and pulling open the doors with his right hand, “I can be a klutz sometimes.”

He wasn’t blaming you or cussing at you like the majority of the boys in your grade? Well then, you supposed this was a bonus. Luke was a nice guy.

“You look familiar,” he stated as he walked over to the table you’d been sitting at previously, you following him like a lost puppy. He plopped down onto his chair and you slid yours out slowly, sitting across from him and eyeing him carefully.

“Where do I know you from?” He wondered.

“We’re in the same AP English class,” you said quickly. Immediately you winced at how needy and desperate you sounded.

But Luke Hemmings took no notice. Instead he grinned and snapped his fingers, pointing at you with a knowing smirk, “That’s right! You’re the girl who sits at the front and answers all of the questions!”

Okay. Scratch the nice guy thing.

Your cheeks flamed as the most popular boy in school teased you about being a know-it-all in the only class you really loved. You stared down at the wooden table and tried in vain to hide your face.

“Oh no,” Luke said quickly, sitting up straight, “Not in a bad way. The stuff you say is actually really analytical and deep. You raise the bar for everyone in that class.”

You looked up at him, only to find that he was chewing on his lip ring nervously and that this time, his cheeks were painted red. You couldn’t help but to smile lightly, “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke returned your smile before clapping his hands, “Alright, let’s get to math.”

And so you began.


But that had been six weeks ago. You were now well into April and your trigonometry unit of math. You and Luke had become friends, but you still didn’t feel completely comfortable around him, scared that he’d morph into an asshole like the rest of the popular guys in your grade. Luke was Luke, and you were a nobody.

But when it was just you two, whether he came by your house or you both studied in the library, he was the sweetest thing ever. And you found yourself growing attracted the the tall boy with a lip piercing.

And that was bad. Because you knew that he’d never be attracted to you.


“No fucking way,” you whispered, walking out of your math class, your eyes trained on your test.

The bright red 86% flashed at you like a neon sign, and you clutched the paper to your chest, weaving in and out of crowds of students. The day was over, and there were people chatting at each other’s lockers, freshmen looking intimidated by your fellow seniors, and douchebags kicking a soccer ball around the hall while blasting Jay-Z.

You finally made your way over to your locker before noticing that only a few compartments away stood Luke and his friends. There were three of them, and they were all in the same band. Luke had made you a few mix tapes featuring their own original songs, and they were pretty good.

You glanced at them quickly, but it was long enough to see the boy with dark hair smirk in your direction and nudge Luke with his elbow. Luke turned towards you, but you quickly looked down, your face heating up. You fumbled with your lock, trying to calm your shaky fingers so that you could spin the code into place.

The shouts and jeers of students drowned out everything. You sighed, used to this already. There were lockers slamming shut, girls speaking obnoxiously, guys hollering insults at each other from opposite ends of the hall. Your typical high school, and you couldn’t wait to be off to university in the fall.

“Hey Shorty,” someone suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked to your right, only to find Luke leaning against the lockers and looking at you intently, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

He wore a pair of ripped black jeans and a white shirt with red stars on the cuffs of his short sleeves. His black Vans shuffled awkwardly, something you noticed he did a lot. His hair was concealed by a maroon SnapBack and his teeth were fiddling with his lip ring as he scanned you over.

“Shorty?” You questioned, rummaging in your locker and not wanting to be seen talking to him. The last thing you needed was rumours flapping around about how you were fucking Luke Hemmings.

Peering past him, you saw his three best friends turn around the corner, and wondered if he’d actually asked them to leave you two alone. But then you shook your head; that was a stupid assumption.

“Whatcha got there?” Luke’s eyebrows rose as he nodded his head towards the test that was still clutched in your hand.

You shook you head again, “Nothing.”

He just laughed and before you knew it, he’d snatched the paper from your grip. “Luke!” You exclaimed, looking at him in disbelief.

“Give it back!” You said, but he just held the paper above his head, making you jump for it. He laughed again as your outstretched arm always fell short, your fingertips only reaching his wrist.

“Luke!” You groaned, aggravated. He giggled, “Oh, calm down. Just let me see–”

His eyes widened as he cut himself off. He stared at your paper, his eyes skimming over your mark repeatedly. He flipped the test over, his eyes running down the expanse or your paper, seeming to grow wider with each word that he took in.

“An eighty-six?” He breathed in disbelief. You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah.”

“Almost everything’s correct,” Luke breathed. Things were silent between the two of you when suddenly…

“That’s fucking awesome!” He exclaimed, and he held out his arms, wrapping them around your waist and picking you up. He crushed you in a hug, twirling you around once. When he set you back down, you stumbled back a few steps, laughing lightly.

A few girls passing by shot you guys weird looks, all of them looking at you as though you weren’t worth their time.

Yeah, they were jealous. But it still stung.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, closing up again and ducking your head. You reached out for the paper in Luke’s hand but he was quick to pull it away.

“Luke, pass it,” you sighed, lifting your face to look up at him. His playful eyes were now stern, almost disapproving of you, “I saw that Y/N.”

“Saw what?” You played dumb. He cocked an eyebrow as if to ask ‘seriously?’. You just shrugged, brushing him off and encouraging him to do the same.

“Why are you so worried about what other people think?” Luke questioned you, deciding not to let it go. You shrugged again, “Its hereditary?” You tried joking, but Luke just looked at you blankly.

“Stop it,” you stated, and he sighed, leaving the issue alone for now. He smiled again at you, “Well, I say we go out for dinner to celebrate your mark.”

“What?” You reacted quickly almost dropping the science textbook you held in your hand. Luke grinned cheekily, “Great! I’ll pick you up at six.”

He shot you a wink and then turned around, disappearing into the sea of students and leaving you a bumbling, torn up mess.


“He’s here!” Your mother practically danced over the the door, wringing her hands in delight at the fact that you had a “date”.

“Mom, please,” you begged, “He’s not my date, he’s my freaking tutor. We aren’t going on a date, we’re just celebrating my mark.”

“He likes you,” your mother sang as she grasped the doorknob.

“Stop it!” You cried, and she froze, looking at you. You held out your hands, “Let me answer it.”

“Fine,” she sighed and moved out of your way. You gripped the doorknob before twisting it and swinging the door open, only to reveal Luke.

He looked really good. His hair was styled into a tall quiff like when you’d met for the first time. He still wore his signature black skinny jeans and black Converse, but this time, he’d taken the time to change up his shirt. A black button-up now adorned his torso, framed by a black blazer. He’d taken his lip ring out for the occasion, which you were grateful for. You had no idea how your parents would’ve reacted to it.

“Holy sh–,” Luke suddenly caught sight of your mother standing behind you and backtracked quickly, “–shorts.”

You and your mother both giggled like schoolgirls, and you looked down, blushing fiercely. You wore a cute white sundress and black flats, and you’d let your hair fall down in it’s free state tonight, not bothering to do anything with it. Your mother had done your makeup, thin eyeliner and mascara, respecting your wishes of not going all out.

And Luke was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.

“Hi!” Your mother was far too confident, and you cringed as she enthusiastically introduced herself to your tutor. Luke was going to run for the hills.

But to your surprise, he merely smiled warmly at her and shook her hand, “Hello Mrs. Y/L/N. My name is Luke.”

“Luke!” Your mother grinned at him, “Lovely!”

You quickly took the lead, “Okay, we should really get going. Mom, I’ll see you later. Come on Luke.” You mumbled the last part to him as you stepped outside, brushing past him and smelling the wonderful cinnamon scent of the cologne he’d applied. It took all of your willpower to continue on and not stop in your tracks, inhaling deeply and burying your face into his chest.

“I won’t wait up!” Your mother called out to you as Luke quickly scampered over to the other side of his black vehicle, opening the door for you.

Oh my God,” you muttered, face-palming as soon as you slid into the sleek leather seating. You heard Luke chuckle.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized earnestly, burying you face in your hands as Luke slid into the driver’s side of his car. He laughed, sticking his key into the ignition and revving the engine of his sleek black automobile.

“It’s fine Y/N, seriously.”

“No it’s not,” you groaned, “She thinks this is a date no matter how often I tell her it isn’t.”

“Oh,” Luke said blankly, quieting down. You looked at him, worried that you’d suddenly made things awkward. You studied his side profile, in awe of the perfection of his face.

His hands were on the wheel, and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his blazer, making him seem eight thousand percent hotter. His jawline was so sharp it could slice through steel, a shadow of stubble tinting the underside. His lips were full and pink, and you had the most perfect view of his cute little nose.

“You know,” Luke mused, “It’s rude to stare.”

You looked away quickly, blushing ferociously and muttering, “Sorry.”

He laughed, momentarily pulling his right hand from the wheel to run his fingers through his quiffed blonde hair, “I’m just playing. I appreciate your honesty though. Most girls would just scoff and be like ‘I wasn’t staring’.”

“'Scoff’?” You cocked an eyebrow, “Nice word use.”

“Thank you,” Luke smiled proudly, nodding in your direction, “I got it from you. Remember in junior year we read ‘The Great Gatsby’? You went on a long rant to prove how Gatsby was just a victim of love and lust and how that can drive people to do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“I remember that,” you said slowly, “Were you in my AP English class last year?”

“We’ve been in English class together every year,” Luke explained, and he suddenly cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “Whoa, that sounded really creepy.”

You laughed, throwing your head back onto the headrest of the seat. Luke chuckled along bashfully with you. You ran a hand through your hair, tousling it a bit.

“You’re not at all what I expected, Luke Hemmings,” you noted with a surge of confidence.

Luke looked over at you, “Really? How so?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking out his car window and seeing bright signs of stores and restaurants racing by your window, “I just didn’t expect you to be so nice.”

“Are you serious?” Luke sounded genuinely shocked.

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, laughing, “I expected some douchebag who didn’t know anything and who only cared about his next fuck. But instead I got a boy that I can actually carry out an intellectual conversation with and who makes me mix tapes and who’s nice.”

You smiled at him and he bit his lip to keep from doing the same, “Pretty bold words, Y/N. I don’t usually hear you talk like that.”

“I’m warming up to you,” you shrugged, and you both giggled.

“You forgot one thing,” Luke said, turning into a parking lot, “You also got a boy with a good taste in food.”


You and Luke tumbled through the threshold of his house, laughing wildly.

“He did not!” Luke had gasped as you told the story of your drunken uncle at Christmas dinner. You both broke off into another fit of laughter, removing your shoes.

“Where’s your mom?” You asked, looking around and expecting to see Liz pop her head out from around the corner; when Luke had brought you over once before, she’d been the sweetest thing and had never failed to embarrass her son. It had been endearing to see him just as flustered as you always were.

“My parents are actually on vacation right now,” Luke explained, smirking, “Don’t tell my dad I borrowed his car to take you out, he’ll kill me.”

You mimed sealing your mouth and handing him the key, which he pretended to throw away. You shook your head at his goofiness, playing with the hem of your dress. For a moment, there was silence, until Luke broke it.

“Do you want to wear something of mine?” He asked, “Not that your dress isn’t gorgeous, because it is, but it looks kind of uncomfortable.“

You smiled fondly at him, “That would be amazing, thanks.”

Luke nodded and walked past you to the staircase of his house. Quickly he darted up the steps, indicating for you to follow, which you did. You raced upstairs and followed him down the hall. His door was at the very end of the corridor, straight ahead.

“Wow,” you marvelled, “I like it.”

His walls were blue from what you could see, which wasn’t a lot. Band posters were plastered everywhere, concealing almost every single inch. You noticed bands like All Time Low, Blink-182, My Chemical Romance and Green Day.

His bed and furniture were simple; plain white, a nice and spacey double mattress. He had a white bedside table and a large dresser across the room. Lined up beside his dresser on the far wall was a collection of about five guitars: three electrics and two acoustics.

“Cool,” you breathed, walking over to the instruments. When you got close enough, you called over your shoulder, “May I?”

“‘Course,” Luke chuckled, approaching you. Rather than looking at his instruments, however, he focussed on the dresser next to them, pulling out two pairs of sweatpants and two baggy shirts, one a t-shirt, the other a tank.

“Which one do you want?” He asked. You looked at him and cocked an eyebrow teasingly, “Are you offering me a shirt or a guitar, Luke Hemmings?”

“Ha-ha,” he said sarcastically before just tossing you the black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, “You change here. I’ll be in the washroom.”

You merely hummed in response, in awe at his sleek electric guitars. One was black and white, the other completely black except for a bright red ‘X’, and the last a bright, zeal turquoise, almost a teal. His acoustics were beige, polished nicely and shining in the dim light of his bedroom.

You quickly slid out of your dress, deciding to leave your bra on. You pulled on his t-shirt, which reached mid-thigh. The sweatpants were even worse. They were long and very baggy, and you had to pull on the drawstring and knot it tightly to keep the material seated on your hips.

“You decent?” Luke shouted at you through his door. You let out a small giggle, tying up your hair into a bun, and called back, “What if I’m not?”

“I’m assuming that was a joke so I’m coming in,” Luke stated, and the doorknob twisted as the door swung open. You smiled at him.

“You were correct, Luke Hemmings.”

“I know,” he smiled smugly and you just rolled your eyes.

You turned your attention back to his range of guitars, your right hand reaching out to run your fingers long the shiny surface of one of his beige acoustic guitars.

“They’re really nice,” you admitted, in awe of the sleek instruments. You’d always wanted to learn how to play an instrument, but you’d never actually acted on the desire. And now here you were in a musically talented boy’s room, ogling his guitars as if they were shirtless men.

“Thanks,” Luke seemed to be amused at your fascination. He suddenly cleared his throat and lifted his left hand to scratch his head sheepishly, “Want me to play you something?”

You looked at him in surprise. He looked amazing in his plain white tank top and sweatpants, identical to yours. His shirt hung loosely on his frame, but by what you could see of his unconsciously flexed biceps as he rubbed the back of his neck, he was by no means scrawny. Rather, he was lanky, yet you didn’t doubt his strength.

His blue eyes regarded you cautiously, and your gaze fell to his lips. He was missing the lip ring, but you didn’t mind it; he looked just as good without it. On cue, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips, and you practically swooned, growing more and more drawn to this boy by the second.

“Are you serious?” You asked, and then you shook your head; if he hadn’t been serious he wouldn’t have asked.

Luke laughed and reached past you, gripping the neck of the acoustic guitar you’d been fondling and lifting it from the rack.

“Don’t laugh at me, ‘kay?” He asked, and you smiled. He walked over to his bed and you followed him, both of you sitting down on the soft duvet.

“I won’t,” you assured him, smiling gently and practically bouncing with excitement.

Luke gripped the neck of his instrument and set it down in his lap. One of his legs hung off the bed, the other tucked underneath him. He ran his right hand through his hair and you cocked an eyebrow playfully at how flustered he seemed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. He looked at you, “I don’t usually play alone for people. It’s always the lads and I.”

“It’s just me,” you assured him, smiling softly.

“Exactly,” he let out a breath, “And if you haven’t noticed Y/N, you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

Your cheeked flushed crimson as you looked away, laughing to cover up your potent embarrassment, “You’re trying to stall.”

“You’re correct,” he grinned. He cleared his throat, “This is something Ashton and I wrote. I was going to put it on a mix tape for you but then–”

“Luke,” you giggled, “Just play me the song.”

“So demanding,” he noted playfully before finally getting the hint. He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a small dark guitar pick before steadying the instrument on his lap and beginning to strum a tune.

You nodded your head along with the sweet melody. It was nice.

Luke cleared his throat and opened his mouth, and you almost did a double take. Even though he was famous at school for his angelic voice, you’d never actually heard him sing.

“Life’s, a tangled web,

Of cellphone calls and hashtag I-don’t-knows.

And you, you’re so caught up,

In all the blinking lights and dial tones.”

You were in awe. He was seventeen years old, but Luke Hemmings had the voice of a thirty-year-old. It was so deep and rich, filled to the brim with feeling and emotion; you were caught.

“And I know I’ve been a victim of the worldwide system too,

But I found my sweet escape when I’m alone with you.

So turn off the static sounds of the city that never sleeps,

Here in the moment on the dark side of the screen.”

Luke made an exaggerated gesture with his hands as he strummed–no doubt to lighten the mood–and you smiled dreamily at him. He broke off into the chorus.

“I like the summer rain, I like the sounds you make.

We put the world away, we get so disconnected,

You are my getaway, you are my favourite place.

We put the world away, we get so disconnected.”

Luke played a few more chords, his fingers flitting across his guitar before finishing with a final flourish. He looked up at you, chewing on his lip nervously. Your lips were parted.

“You need to sing for me more often,” was all you breathed, and he laughed, a faint pink blush tinting his magnificent cheeks.

“That’s all we’ve got right now,” he admitted, “Did you like it?”

“It was incredible!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. Luke laughed loudly at your childish tone and you just smiled, happy that you could make him happy.

“Do you think you can teach me?” You asked suddenly. Luke’s eyebrows arched, “Really? Sure.”

“Thank you,” you grinned at him as he took his guitar off his lap and handed it to you.

You positioned it in your own lap, crossing your legs and using your thighs as a pedestal. Luke shifted a bit closer so that now he was sitting directly in front of you. You looked up at him, shocked at the proximity of your bodies. He caught your gaze and cocked an eyebrow and you looked back down, blushing madly.

“Okay,” Luke began, grabbing your fingers. He set them on the neck of the guitar, positioning each one individually. He then grabbed your other hand and brought it to the strings of his guitar. Your cheeks were on fire.

“So this is called a C chord,” Luke cleared his throat awkwardly as he gripped your fingers, transferring the pick into your hand. Using his fingers, he struck a string, emitting a moderate sound. You nodded.

“Okay,” you said slowly, attempting to pluck at the chord yourself. You were grateful for the dimly lit atmosphere, not wanting him to see your pink face.

“And, er,” Luke hesitated, looking uneasy, “This is a G.”

Another twinge. You kept still; your knees were brushing Luke’s, and he was so close that you could smell the scent of his cinnamon cologne, the smell invading your nostrils and putting your entire being at ease.

“Sorry,” Luke apologized, looking at you sheepishly, “I’m not used to playing this way, obviously. It’s kind of confusing.”

“It’s fine,” you assured, smiling lightly. You pulled the guitar off your lap and set it down on the bedding beside you, “Maybe some other time.”

Okay, so maybe you were slightly disappointed.

“What?” Luke blurted, looking at you incredulously. You glanced at him, standing up off his bed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Luke fiddled with his fingers, “Just…don’t let this be awkward.”

“Luke, what on earth are you–?” You began, but you cut yourself off sharply as Luke’s hand wrapped around your waist. He pulled you down towards him, and with a shriek you fell squarely into his lap.

“Oh my God,” you laughed lightly, and Luke chuckled along with you, seeming relieved that you hadn’t cussed him out.

“Just stay there,” Luke giggled, reaching for his guitar on the bed. Smooth fingers wrapped around the neck of the instrument and he quickly pulled it towards him. You, in the meantime, placed your hands on his knees and pushed yourself up into a sitting position, getting comfortable in his lap.

He groaned when you did. Immediately, your face peered over you shoulder inquisitively. You blushed, “I’m heavy, aren’t I?”

“No, no,” he said hastily, shaking his head, “The guitar is.”

He smiled, but you could tell he was lying. You shifted around a bit more and your eyes widened once you felt something hard poking into your back.

Oh God. You couldn’t believe it

Had you given Luke Hemmings a fucking boner?

“Um,” Luke cleared his throat, sounding constricted, “Okay, so…”

He snaked his arms over your, wrapping you in some sort of protective embrace. It took all of your willpower to not lean back into his strong and firm chest. His body was so broad, and you found it so attractive.

“As I was saying,” Luke breathed quietly. You could feel his chest rising and falling with breaths, could feel his words puffing out onto your shoulder, “This is a C chord.”

He struck the chord and it echoed out into the quiet house. You nodded, blush creeping onto your cheeks as you felt Luke lean in a bit closer to reach the far end of the neck of his guitar.

“So if you play a C, followed by a G,” Luke played the short sequence, “You get that.”

“Okay,” you nodded, and you boldly tried to mimic his actions. Immediately you cringed. The sound was high-strung and squeaky, and you shrunk back unconsciously into Luke’s front.

“Ugh,” you shivered at the noise. Luke burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but to join him. It was a pretty horrendous attempt.

“Oh my God,” Luke chuckled lowly, pressing his forehead to the nape of your bare neck. His skin seemed to shock yours, and your fingers twitched with anticipation, tingles running down your spine.

Luke noticed it too, “Whoa, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you looked back at him, still giggling lightly. His eyes were a bright blue, alert and attentive, and his arms seemed to tighten around you as your gazes met.

“Y/N?” He breathed heavily.

“Yeah Luke?”

“We’re friends, right?”

You let out another small titter at his words. Was he blind? You were now wrapped around his finger like everyone else at school.

“Of course we are, silly,” you teased.

“And…” Luke hesitated, “…would it go against the rules of friendship if I were to kiss you right now?”

In response, you merely shook your head. Luke smiled in an embarrassed fashion, but you wanted this.

“Not at all,” you said softly.

And then he was kissing you. You were slightly shocked, not actually expecting it, but you quickly regained your composure, kissing him back. You’d only kissed someone a handful of times, and Luke seemed so experienced, so of course you were intimidated.

Luke grabbed his guitar and pulled it away so that you could have more leeway. You climbed off of him for a moment as he set his guitar down on the floor, and that suddenly made you nervous. Was he planning on doing more than simply making out on the bed?

He leaned back down to where you were, his lips once again finding yours. You couldn’t deny that you liked the way he kissed you, like he’d been repressing everything and it was all pouring out now.

His palm rested near your thigh and you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back down onto the bed with you. Both of you giggled as you scrambled up to where the pillows were, you lips connecting and disconnecting multiple times.

Luke’s left hand found your hip, the other brushing a few fallen strands of hair out of your face. He pulled back to watch you for a moment, and you stared back at him, out of breath. He smiled at you.

You ran your fingers through his silky blonde hair and leaned back up to meet his lips. He quickly obliged.

On a swerve of confidence, you flipped the two of you over. Luke pulled back, looking at you in disbelief and you simply giggled, “Don’t underestimate me, Hemmings.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed, and you laughed. Slowly and sensually, you grinded yourself down on him, and he groaned. You took that as a good sign; you didn’t actually have much of an idea of what you were doing. You’d only had sex once, and had regretted it right after.

But with Luke, being intimate felt right. It felt like home, where you could be yourself. So you might as well have been confident, a feeling you weren’t acquainted to.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Luke groaned, closing his eyes as your centers rubbed together through your sweats. You giggled excitedly, happy that you were doing something right. Your fingers found the hem of Luke’s tank, and you quickly tugged it upwards.

He understood and you leaned back on your knees so that he could sit up, quickly ridding himself of his top. He discarded it somewhere into the dark room, and you marvelled at his torso.

He was pale, with a very broad chest and shoulders. His stomach was flat and tense as he waited for you to make your next move, his nipples small pink discs. You slowly ran your hands from his shoulders down to his pecs, down to his abdomen. You could feel faint ridges of tense muscle underneath your palms and you savoured the feeling. He skin was burning hot.

“I think you should be topless too,” Luke teased you. You flushed a deep red but crossed your arms over your body nonetheless, gripping the hem of your (or was it his?) shirt and slowly pulling it up over your head.

You wore a plain white bra with a small lacy bow resting between the cups. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you looked up, trying to gauge Luke’s reaction to seeing you like this.

His eyes were wide and he was licking his lips hungrily, staring over your entire body as though he wanted to devour you. You climbed back onto his lap, subtly grinding down on him again, and he traced your shoulder with his fingers. His touch dipped down to your collarbone, after a while running down the valley of your breasts, making you shiver.

Luke leaned in to kiss you again, which you reciprocated. After a while, he moved away, scraping his lips along your cheek and jawline before preparing to give his full attention to your neck. He kissed up and down the column of your throat, making you tilt your head back to offer him more access. Your lips parted as you stared up at the ceiling, loving the way he felt against your throat at the moment.

“Luke,” you couldn’t help but to whimper. He spoke his next words against the flesh of your neck, sending vibrations along your body, “Grind on me, Y/N.”

It took you a moment to process what he’d said, but when you did, you slowly began to circle your hips on his. He continued pressing kisses to your neck and nipping on small patches of skin, making you close your eyes.

How had you two gotten here? Five minutes ago he was trying to teach you how to play his guitar.

You raked your fingers through Luke’s hair, mussing it, and he sucked on a spot right above your collarbone. You cried out and he chuckled, knowing that he’d found your sweet spot. He continued to suck at it and even nipped it a few times, and you shook from the inexperience and sensitivity.

The whole while, your hips were circling against one another. Luke’s were snapping upwards, meeting yours in perfect harmony. You whimpered when Luke blew cool air onto your sweet spot, and you whispered, “Luke.”

“Yes Y/N?” He pulled back quickly. You smiled at how he would stop in a heartbeat if you asked him to, and how he was constantly worried about pushing you too far; it was endearing.

“I-I want us to take our pants off,” you explained timidly, and you could almost feel the fire of your cheeks transfer onto his as he blushed too. He nodded slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Okay,” he replied simply, his lips a dark red from all of the kissing you’d indulged in. Your fingers hooked through the waistband of your sweatpants, and you timidly pulled them down, exposing Luke to your lower half.

Your body was in no way perfect. There were stretch marks on your breasts and your thighs, your knees were knobby, and your stomach wasn’t exactly flat. You looked up shyly at Luke, whose gaze was sweeping down your entire body.

“Oh my God,” he let out. You crossed your arms over your body; he was looking at you like you were some sort of specimen in a lab.

“No, don’t do that,” Luke grappled with your wrists gently, trying to uncover you.

He muttered something under his breath, seeming to scold himself, “God, I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year and I never actually thought–”

“You like me?” You asked incredulously, cutting him off.

He nodded frantically, his eyes blown out with lust, yet they weren’t raking down your figure anymore. Luke was staring at you with adoration, something you had never really seen in a boy’s eyes before.

“Hell yeah,” he practically sighed, raking his hand through his hair.

You grabbed his hand and twined your fingers together as he spoke, “We’ve only ever had English together, and I watched you all the time. I think you’re amazing. And today–fuck, I wanted tonight to be a date so bad, I was just too scared to actually ask.”

Your cheeks were as red as a tomato by the time he finished his short rant. You didn’t think anyone in school was attracted to you, much less Luke Hemmings. He was popular, social and had dozens of girls falling at his feet; you were more of a wallflower, not wanting to get on anyone’s bad side and simply preferring to stay out of the spotlight.

“I really like you, Luke,” you admitted almost as thought you were ashamed. And then you leaned forward to kiss him again.

His lips were soft and welcoming, nothing rushed about this kiss. His bright blue eyes closed as you both savoured the kiss and the confessions of one another. You didn’t think that the fact had resonated in your mind yet; Luke Hemmings liked you.

Quickly and hastily, Luke’s fingers slipped into the band of his own sweatpants and he pulled them down swiftly. You climbed back into his lap as he kicked the constraining material away and they disappeared into the room, no longer needed. Luke wore black American Apparel boxers, and you could see a visible tent in the crotch of his underwear.

The fact that you’d managed to give him a boner made you giggle like a toddler. Luke smiled sheepishly, his cheeks showcasing just how embarrassed he actually was.

He gripped your hips as you straddled him, your cotton-covered core coming into contact with the arousal in his boxers. You let out a sharp gasp and buried you face into Luke’s neck. All of the teasing and foreplay had made you sensitive, your clit swollen and begging for attention within the confines of your panties.

“So good,” Luke groaned as you rocked back and forth on him.

With the two of you now only in your underwear, you took the opportunity to run your palms along the plains of his torso, sweeping along his pecs and gripping his shoulders as your head fell back.

Luke resumed kissing your neck, sucking viciously on your sweet spot, and you knew there would be a mark left over. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, the cool metal of his few rings contrasting greatly to the hot and sticky atmosphere of your actions.

“Y/N,” Luke confessed, “I want to touch you. I want you.”

In response, you grabbed the hands that were roaming your body, bringing them up to your face. You kissed the tip of each of Luke’s fingers, stopping at last to suck on his left pinky, the one that housed a sleek silver band.

In a very un-Y/N-like way, you set his hands on your shoulders before staring into Luke’s face. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in awe of your sudden confidence. You smiled softly at him before dragging his hands down your upper chest and over the cups of your bra, down your stomach and your hips, finally planting them on your upper thighs and leaving them there.

“Then take me,” you whispered.

You couldn’t believe what you were doing.

“Fuck,” Luke hissed as he quickly flipped the two of you over. He hovered over you, his right palm planted on the pillow beside your head to keep himself aloft. His other hand traced the contour of your right cheek, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

His hand slowly progressed lower on your body, fingers dancing along the straps of your white bra, sliding them down your shoulders timidly. He looked at you for permission, and you nodded.

His hands snuck behind your back, grabbing hold of the clasp and working to undo it. When he finally succeeded, you froze, remembering the imperfections on your body.

Luke sensed your unease. He looked at you inquisitively, “What’s wrong?”

“I have stretch marks,” you whispered, blushing a fiery red and looking away, ashamed that you had to come out and say it in such a blunt way.

“So?” Luke asked, not unkindly. You shyly met his eyes, only to find that they were sparkling with adoration for you. He didn’t seem to care about the blemishes or lines or wrinkles on certain parts of your body.

In a sudden spurt of confidence and gratefulness for Luke Hemmings, you threw your arms around his neck, your lips clashing together. He kissed you back with equal passion and you subconsciously wrapped your legs around his waist, clutching him to you.

His hands framed your face sweetly, but now you were ready to bare yourself to him. You shrugged off your bra straps, letting the material fall loosely onto the bed beside you. Luke broke away from your lips and stared at your breasts somewhat hungrily. He stared for a long moment, making you shift uneasily.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed, and you quickly felt your face heat up again.

Luke lowered his hands and got to your collarbone before freezing. He looked up at you worriedly, “Can I?”

“Duh,” you merely giggled, and he smiled sheepishly.

His fingers brushed over the valley of your breasts before he ran them along your chest gently. He paid attention to your right first, simply trailing his fingertips along the soft skin. As he neared your nipple, you felt the small bud tighten up. Luke’s fingers danced delicately along the bumps that had now formed on your areola.

“That feels nice,” you sighed lightly.

Luke took that as a sign to actually put a bit more pressure, and he leaned down, kissing along the skin of your cleavage gently. You shuddered at the feeling of his warm lips sponging pecks along one of the most private and reserved parts of your body.

Luke placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on your skin, his fingers tweaking the nipple of your other breast gently. You gasped as he suddenly moistened his lips and pressed a wet kiss to your right nipple.

“Is that okay?” He wondered, and you nodded your head frantically. His head bent again, and this time, he took your nipple past his lips, concealing it in the hot cavern that was his mouth.

You let out a sharp squeak, and he began to pull back, wondering if he’d done something wrong. But then you ran your fingers through his hair, reassuring him with breathy gasps and soft moans as he swirled his tongue around the erect bud.

“It feels so good Luke,” you whimpered out as he gave a particularly forceful suck.

He pulled your nipple from his mouth and a pop, looking at you through hooded eyes and bucking his hips down down into yours, grinding them firmly. Your fingers raked through his hair, grabbing fistfuls, and he groaned. You guess he liked that.

Luke suddenly sat up on his knees, straddling your thighs. He looked at you, his palms running down your stomach and stopping at the waistline of your plain cotton panties. He looked at you, hooking his index fingers through the waistline.

You nodded.

And then he was tugging your underwear down so quickly that you thought he would simply rip them from your body. Once they reached your knees you shimmied them down and kicked them off frantically.

You were now completely bare in front of Luke Hemmings, star musician and well-adored student of your school.

And he was staring at you like he was torn between caressing your body like royalty or fucking your brains out.

“Fuck baby, you’re beautiful,” Luke murmured, eyeing your dripping heat and your swollen clit. You shivered as the pet name fell from his lips and his warm breath washed over your intimate area.

Luke leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your clit, making you suck in a sharp gasp. Subconsciously, your hands shot down your body, fingers twining in his hair.

“Luke,” you gasped, closing your eyes. Luke’s body rumbled with a chuckle and he pressed kisses along your folds, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips down firmly.

When Luke licked a stripe up your core, your hips bucked up, but he quickly held them down. He repeated the action, and you bit your lip to keep from making any noise; it felt really good, but you didn’t want to seem desperate.

But Luke had other ideas. “Moan, Y/N. How else am I supposed to know what you like?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you replied back in a small voice. Luke chuckled, peppering kisses to the inside flesh of your thighs before lifting his head and smirking at you.

“No,” he said, “What’s embarrassing is not being able to get my girl to come, because she’s scared I won’t think her moans are sexy as fuck. Because they are.”

Your cheeks burned crimson when he claimed you as his, and Luke just cocked an eyebrow at you, his lips curving up in a knowing little smirk. He ducked his head back down into your heat, continuously lapping at your folds. You gasped.

“Luke,” you whimpered, raking your fingers through his hair. He groaned into your core, the vibrations maximizing against your sensitive clit and making your eyes roll back in your head. You were wet, so, so wet, and Luke was licking you up as though he’d been starved of your sweet pussy his entire life; and in a way, he had.

“Fuck, princess,” Luke growled, “You taste like peaches. So fucking good.”

His filthy words made you shiver, and your thighs tightened around his head, your heels digging into the smooth skin of his shoulder blades. Luke’s fingers ran along the span of your hips, tickling you slightly as his tongue traced around your dripping hole.

Suddenly his tongue dipped inside, and you let out a cross between a gasp and a high pitched whine. You grabbed onto Luke’s hand, your fingers intertwining as he timidly poked his tongue in again.

“Oh my God,” you whined, throwing your head back. Luke’s tongue was wide and flat, a perfect oval, and he squeezed your hands adoringly. There was a thin sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies now, and you felt your hair coming undone from its bun and sticking to the nape of your neck.

“Luke, please,” you gasped, your lips parting at the magnificent feeling. Loud, obscene sounds were filling the room. You looked down at Luke and your gazes met just as he took your clit into his mouth and sucked harshly.

You cried out, your toes digging into the smooth flesh of his back. In response, Luke chuckled, mumbling against your skin, “Like that, beautiful?”

“Luke Hemmings!” You gasped in a high-pitched voice, “Fuck me. Now.”

Luke pulled his lips away from your delicious core and looked at you with wide eyes. Your own lips parted as you realised what you’d just said…and how much you’d actually meant it.

“Y/N,” Luke began, placing his hands on the mattress and lifting himself up. He hovered above you again, his lips shiny with your juices, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you nodded, trying to hide your desperation.

He chewed on his lips, his blue eyes boring into your dull ones. “Okay.”

He leaned down to kiss you softly. You sighed, tasting yourself on his tongue. Without pulling his mouth from yours, Luke stretched out, fumbling blindly with one of the drawers in his nightstand. He finally opened it and produced a square packet.

“God baby,” Luke groaned, not knowing just how much of an effect his pet names had on you, “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

You couldn’t reply, realising that he was ripping open the foil packaging and guiding it towards his shaft.

It was actually happening. You were going to have sex with Luke Hemmings. You were–shockingly–very excited. You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards him, and he only became more amazing now that you knew about his feelings towards you.

Luke rolled on the condom and grasped himself, bringing his tip to your core. It brushed your clit, sending shivers down your spine and making him smile lightly. You just blushed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, looking at you, “Can I just put it in? You’re so goddamn magnificent.”

You giggled in response and nodded. Luke placed both hands near your head and slowly inched into you.

You were soaked. But nonetheless, it was still a foreign feelin, and you needed a moment. Luke realized this and stilled, letting you adjust to his size before pushing in a bit further. The process repeated until he was completely lodged inside of you.

“Give me a second,” you whispered to him. Your hands wound around his neck and you pulled him down, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss.

Luke moaned into your mouth, “Fuck darling, you’re so tight.” He began to move slowly, pulling all the way out before sliding back in with ease. You gasped at the pleasure, your hands gripping his neck and playing with the small sweaty curls at the nape.

“C'mon Luke,” you teased, craving more of the divine feeling, “Pound me.”

He let out a moan at your words and pulled out of you so quickly that you’d barely had any time to register it before he plunged back in. A whine slipped from your lips.

“Dammit,” Luke cursed, “Your pussy babe–so fucking tight.”

You gripped his shoulders and kissed him again. His hands left the spaces near your head and grabbed your hips so tightly you thought he would leave bruises. Suddenly he retreated away from you, sitting up onto his knees and looking down at you hungrily. He continued to thrust, his hips snapped forward and his hands pulling your torso onto him with each thrust. You cried out.

“Luke!” You moaned, sighing in pleasure. You were sensitive, your body nearing the brink of an orgasm. Subconsciously, your own hands came up to squeeze at your breasts, and Luke swore once he perceived this, his blue eyes hazy with lust, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“I’m not gonna last,” he admitted, rocking into you at a speed that could’ve proved a challenge for a jet. You closed your eyes, several “me neither"s spilling from your lips. Your back arched to the point of pain as you gasped and writhed in Luke’s hold. He leaned down, sponging sloppy kisses along the valley of your breasts all the way to your navel.

“God Y/N,” he groaned, sounding pained, “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this. You’re so–fuck–so goddamn gorgeous. You’re mine, promise me that you’re mine.”

“I promise,” you practically sobbed, your eyes squeezed closed. You were biting on your left thumb to keep in all of the curses threatening to escape.

“Good,” Luke growled, and with a final thrust, you felt yourself spill over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. Your body shook and writhed, and in your daze, you felt Luke’s hands run over you in an attempt to soothe you.

“Shit!” you gasped, your muscles tensing and relaxing. You had no idea how long it lasted for, but once you finally regained your senses, Luke still hadn’t finished.

“I c-can’t hold on,” he stuttered weakly, his shaft sliding in and out of you at a lightning pace. You winced at the sensitivity but let him carry on nonetheless.

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around Luke’s neck, pulling him close to you. You then pulled the both of you down onto his mattress, staring into his eyes the entire time.

“Come for me, Luke,” you whispered, “I’m yours.”

Luke bit down on his lip and you felt him twitch inside of you. A yell tore from his throat as you felt him release into the condom, his mouth popping into a little ‘o’ and a whimper escaping every so often. You kissed the tip of his cute little nose as his hands held your hips in place, his body still as he rode out his orgasm.

Once he finally came down from his high, everything was silent, slowly, his eyes opened, the light blue irises gazing at you hazily. The left corner of his mouth rose into a small smile, and you returned it, both of you exhausted.

“Wow,” he breathed, and you merely giggled hoarsely. He rolled off of you, pulling off the condom and knotting it before tossing it into a trash can beside his bedside table.

“You okay?” He asked you gently, moving closer to you and running his fingers up your spine. You shivered lightly but nodded, “I’m a bit sore, to be honest. But I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

He chuckled lightly, his left arm winding around your midsection. His lips fluttered against your shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, blushing madly at the fact that you two were still naked. You turned so that you were facing the blonde boy and you smiled cheekily, “It was worth it.”

He chuckled again, but worry washed into his eyes, “Please don’t leave,” he said suddenly, “I won’t be able to handle it. I’ve liked you for so long, and I can’t–”

“Luke!” You cut off his rambling, “I meant what I said. I’m yours.”

And then you kissed him again.


The next day, you exited the car, bidding your mother goodbye and slamming the door. She drove off with a wave, and as soon as you turned you saw a blonde, lanky boy run up to you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” Luke said breathlessly, stopping in front of you. He wore black jeans, a black shirt with maroon sleeves, dark Converse and his maroon SnapBack. Before you could say anything, he leaned down and kissed you, letting the action draw out for several seconds.

“Luke!” You gasped as he pulled back, smiling deviously at you. You laughed, but swatted at his arm, “You’re a dork, you know that?”

He shrugged, his grin wide. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you both began walking towards the main entrance of your school. You were painfully aware of many students watching you, and you couldn’t stop the faint pink colouring that rose to your cheeks.

Luke laughed, noticing your embarrassment, and pressed a sloppy yet consoling kiss to your cheek, “But I’m your dork, correct?”

You grinned up at him, giving him a playful little shove with your shoulder.



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So hear me out for a minute—

So imagine. Sirius grew up in a house where he had everything. Anything he could ever want, it was his. New journals, parchment, thousand year old pens? They were his. A broom worth more galleons than most people’s homes? Of course. But at the same time, nothing was truly HIS. Anything he loved was meant as a tool for his pureblood education, as bribes to follow the Black family values. His sweaters were all stuffy and covered in Slytherin crests. His shoes were polished, his books about proper breeding and dark arts. And even as a little boy, Sirius refused to indulge in those things. So his possessions meant nothing to him. And even if they did, his parents made a point to remind him at least once a day: “Everything you have is ours.”

Fast forward to Hogwarts. He’s the one at the station with the most luggage, the heaviest chests and the most money jingling in his pocket. But he can’t wait to drop it all off and never look at anything ever again. In his hurry to get into a train compartment and drop off his bags, he slams himself into a car that’s already occupied with a timid, golden-eyed boy with a worn out book in his hands.

Remus isn’t anything like Sirius. To Remus, every possession has some level of sentimentalism or importance. His jumpers were all knitted by his Gram from Ireland, his shoes were hand-me-downs from his father’s days in ministry work. His books were his mother’s old favorites, the little woven bracelet around his wrist was gifted to him by his favorite cousin Brewyn on his birthday. Everything he has is well-worn and well-loved. And Sirius can’t help but be envious, even if it feels like a foreign concept to him.

Yet Remus is alway willing to share. One day after a cold, rainy Quidditch practice in third year, Remus throws a jumper at a shivering Sirius and says, “Here. It’s my wool. It should keep you warm.” And Sirius pulls it over his head timidly, feeling so out of place with the worn-down sleeves pulled over his hands and the collar fraying. He smiles at Remus timidly, but as soon as Remus isn’t looking, he pulls his sleeve up to his nose and draws in a breath of hay and grass, the smells of Remus’ home.

And after so many years of bouncing around each other, the boys finally pull their heads out of their asses and start dating. Now, Sirius can’t help it. He’s always stealing Remus’ jumpers, his blankets, his socks (“I have chilly feet, Moonshine!” “So pulling them off of mine suddenly rectifies this problem?”) Remus pretends not to notice, but he knows that Sirius is entranced by the idea of someone having possessions without a catch. Without a motive. Remus even tries to explain this to Sirius, but he just doesn’t get it. Or, so Remus thinks.

But Sirius understands completely. He’s never had anything he viewed as his before… Not until now. Now, he’s got all that he wants. Not the jumpers, the socks… Those are simply a factor of having his one single possession. No, he has REMUS. And he’s just so damn protective, because now he finally has something that he’s worried about other people taking. And he’ll guard it as best he can.

Remus pretends not to notice when his whole neck is dotted in hickeys. He pretends not to see how Sirius is wearing both his jumper, his sneakers, and his gloves to breakfast one morning. He tries not to smile with Sirius grabs at his arms when they hug after being gone for a just few hours, Sirius mumbling “Mine mine mine” into Remus’ shoulder. And he tries not to cry when Sirius sobs into his bed sheets after a particularly hard full, begging whatever damn deity that put him in this terrible world to not take the one single miracle that he’s been gifted in his existence.

If he notices that he’s the one thing Sirius is afraid of losing, he doesn’t say anything.

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