#especially because I’m getting burnt out from working so much to help cover for an injured coworker

[puckinghischier]

Crowded

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets nervous in the crowd, but luke is right there to help her out of it

notes: i’m once again throwing a luke fic out into the world. i saw this request in my inbox and immediately thought of the zach bryan concert the boys just went to. i would literally give anything to attend a concert with them. i just KNOW they’re great concert buddies. sorry it’s kinda short, i just didn’t know how to drag it out any longer. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - Character A can tell Character B is getting nervous in a big crowd, so A slips their hand into theirs to help them calm down.

[2.8k]

You had been looking forward to tonight for months. From the second Luke surprised you with the tickets for your birthday, you immediately started planning an outfit, making a playlist, and anticipating the trip.

When he told you his brothers and a few friends were tagging along, it only made you more excited, enjoying every moment you got to spend with your boyfriend’s brothers and their hockey friends.

After the concert, everyone was driving over to stay at the lake house for a few weeks, enjoying as much of the summer together as they can before pre-season training starts. You couldn’t wait to have a few weeks of fun on the water, but also wanted tonight to last as long as it could.

Your excitement grew even more when you found the perfect outfit for the occasion, even buying a matching light-up cowboy hat off of Etsy. You were especially excited for the chance to wear your boots again, not having many excuses to wear them in Jersey.

Luke had his hand planted firmly on the small of your back, making sure not to lose you as you weave through the crowd. You had bought Luke a new shirt for tonight, the orange t-shirt matching the burnt orange color of your dress.

He leads you over to the crowded merchandise stand, telling you to pick whatever you wanted. You struggled, loving every item tacked onto the display board. When you told him you couldn’t decided between a t-shirt and a hoodie, he bought you both before you could even open your mouth to protest, buying himself a hat and t-shirt as well.

“Luke, you just spent over $300 without even batting an eye,” you barked at him, crossing your arms to try and look menacing.

You know Luke could’ve afforded to buy you the entire stand and still not make a dent in his bank account, but you don’t like when he spends large amounts on you for no reason.

“Yeah, so?” he shrugs, taking your elbow and leading you away from the cloth covered table, slinging the clear bag of merchandise over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes and huff at him, unfolding your arms and taking his hand, letting him lead you through the sea of bodies.

“’So?’”, you mimicked his response. “You didn’t have to buy half of the merch stand just because it took me more than three seconds to choose which shirt I wanted.”

He glances back at you over his shoulder. “The fact that you didn’t have your mind made up the second you saw the options means you clearly wanted both, so I bought you both.”

You reach over and pinch his side, mildly annoyed with how well he understands the way your brain works.

“Quit pinching me you little gremlin,” Luke hisses out, the nickname being one he uses when you’re being stubborn or annoying.

“Quit spending all of your money on me, you giraffe-man,” you fire back.

You can see his shoulder’s shake, your impromptu nickname for him amusing him.

He doesn’t respond right away, the two of you having made it to the entrance to your seats, walking up to the worker standing under the numbered sign.

The usher instructs you to show your tickets to one of the workers at the bottom of the set of stairs.

When you walk into the arena, you notice how large the space feels, the open floor and mostly empty seats creating the illusion of size.

Luke has to nudge you a bit, reminding you to keep walking, too in awe of the fact you’re actually here.

“Not so unhappy with me spending my money on you now, huh?” he leans down to whisper into your ear, making sure you can hear him over the roaring chatter.

You hit him lightly in the chest, a smirk on his face as the two of you walk down, showing your tickets to the usher once you reach the bottom of the stairs, a bright colored wristband with bold letters spelling out VIP FLOOR printed on each one.

You make your way over to a small, sectioned off area near the main stage, seeing the rest of your group already waiting for the two of you.

Jack is the first one to notice you approaching, his eyes lighting up and arms being slung into the air.

“It’s about time! We were starting to worry the two of you got lost!” he calls out, causing the rest of the group to turn their heads and call out greetings.

You smile, having missed those in the group that didn’t live in New Jersey.

Walking over to Quinn first, you give him a long hug, the last time you saw him being when he played his brothers in Jersey months ago. The frequent facetime calls the two of you share not being enough to scratch your Quinn itch.

“Quinnifer! I missed you!” you squeal as you squeeze him as tight as you can.

You can feel his chuckle as he squeezes you back. “I missed you too, Munchkin” he leans back, ruffling your hair.

Although you see Jack nearly every day back home in Jersey, Quinn is the brother you’re closest to. You and Jack are literally two peas in a pod, but there’s something about Quinn that made you feel comfortable with him from the moment Luke introduced the two of you.

He’s like the big brother you never had, always calling him when you need advice or need to complain to someone about Luke.

Anytime you have a particularly nasty argument with Luke, Quinn is the one you call. He always allows you say whatever you need to get out of your system before breaking the problem down and agreeing that his brother is an idiot, but that he also loves you with everything he has in him.

At first you tried to go to Jack with problems surrounding your relationship with Luke, but he clearly didn’t know how to help you. He either told Luke about your conversations, causing the argument to grow worse because Luke claimed Jack had no business knowing about what’s happening in your relationship, or he would shrug his shoulders and say “just don’t yell at him when I’m trying to sleep. I need my beauty rest.”

You swat Quinn’s hand away, trying to smooth down your now tousled hair.

“I see you dressed the goon, tonight,” he points out Luke’s orange shirt.

You turn your head to see him talking with Cole.

“Believe it or not, it was his idea,” you think back to after you bought your dress, trying it on for Luke once you came home from shopping with your girls. He loved the way you looked in it, his eyes widening the second you emerged from your walk-in closet.

He swallowed thickly, his gravelly voice choking out a “Did they happen to have a matching shirt? Because if you’re wearing that, I’m going to need something to match so everyone knows you’re there with me, not up for grabs.”

You blush at the memory, looking back over to Quinn.

“I always knew he was whipped, but damn you’ve got him down bad, huh?” he shakes his head, smiling in amusement.

“Wrapped around my little finger,” you hold up your pinky, wiggling it at Quinn with a giggle.

You feel a pair of arms snake their way around your waist, a heavy object resting itself on top of your head.

“What’s wrapped around your little finger?” Luke asks, his chin bumping against your scalp as he talks.

“You, duh,” you reply, moving your head forward and craning your neck to look up at him.

He looks between you and his older brother before uttering out a “Oh one hundred percent. Couldn’t unravel myself if I even wanted to,” he lets go of you, stepping up to stand beside you.

Quinn just laughs, bringing Luke in for a hug.

After you make your way around to greet everyone, the lights are dimming and the atmosphere inside of the arena changes.

You love the hum of excitement in the air, finding Luke and standing in front of him. You hear the first notes of Overtime as Zach Bryan comes onto the stage, screaming as loud as you possibly can.

Luke has a content, amused smile on his face as you scream out the lyrics, jumping and dancing around as the beat allows.

As the concert goes on, you make the switch from dancing with Luke to dancing with Jack, attempt to get on Quinn’s shoulders to get Zach’s attention, and slinging your arm over Cole’s shoulder to sway back and forth with him during one of the slower songs.

When it comes time for Zach to sing Revival, your favorite song of his, you beg Luke to leave your secluded area to get closer to the stage, wanting to experience being in the crowd for this one particular song.

He looks at you apprehensively, eyeing the large sea of people on top of one another, barely any room between the bodies pressed together. He worries about losing you in the crowd, your small frame allowing you to get swept away easily.

You tug on his arm like a little kid, repeating “please, please, please,” over and over again, assuring him you’ll be fine.

Luke eventually gives in, letting his brothers know where you two are going, claiming you’ll meet back up with them after the concert.

Grabbing your hand, Luke leads you off of the small platform and into the crowd, pushing his way as far up to the front as his large body will allow him.

You stop just a row or two of people away from the stage where Zach had just climbed onto, adjusting his guitar and microphone before starting the song.

As the song rang out around you, you sang along to every word, joining the rowdy crowd as the chorus starts.

You start to jump around in the small space you have, enjoying every second, until Zach walks his way over to the small portion of stage in front of where you stand.

As soon as his figure stands over the crowd around you, bodies start pushing against one another, everyone trying to get as close to him as they can. You feel yourself being shifted towards the metal barricade, not being able to fight against the rush of people.

You start panicking, whipping your head from side to side to find Luke. All you can see around you are strangers, not being able to move your body to look behind you. You have absolutely no control over your own body anymore, being stuck in-between a girl slightly taller than you and a man that has at least a hundred pounds on you.

Squeaking out a “excuse me,” and “can you let me out please?” you try to make your exit from the suffocating situation. Your eyes turn frantic when you realize that no one can hear you or cares to hear you. Your breath picks up, heart pounding in your chest.

You can feel the tears pricking in your eyes, not being able to regulate your breathing anymore, gasping hot air into your lungs as fast as you can.

You’re about to let out a scream, begging someone to pay attention to you and let you out of the mess you’re in, when you feel a familiar hand slip its way into yours.

Whipping your head around, you catch a glimpse of curly hair behind you, not realizing that the body pressed against your back has been Luke this entire time. You figured you had lost him when you were surged forward, unable to see him anywhere around you.

Your breath starts to slow slightly, knowing you’re not alone in this crowd easing some of your nerves. The feeling of your heart pounding is still present, not wanting to be in this situation one second longer.

Luke attempts to tug your body back towards him, but the impenetrable wall of people around you prevents him from doing so.

You manage to wiggle your way in a circle somehow, now facing Luke.

He takes one look at your frightened face and knows he has to get you out of here, now.

Pulling you towards him, he cages you in with is arms, your cheek pressed to his chest. He starts walking backwards, his hockey roots coming in handy as he all but body checks people out of his way. The two of you finally make it to the back of the large crowd, Luke not letting go of you until you were back over in your original section.

Quinn was watching the whole thing from the small platform he was stood on, about to walk over and fish you out himself before he noticed Luke’s head slowly moving backwards, away from the stage.

He can see you’re still shaken, walking over to meet the two of you at the top of the ramp.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Quinn asks, concerned about how frightened even Luke’s face looks right now.

“No, she’s fine. Just shaken up, I think. She got trapped between a random girl and some dude at least triple her size,” he tells Quinn, running his hand down your hair in soothing motions. Your hands were still clutching his t-shirt, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

Quinn stares at your trembling figure the whole time, knowing you don’t want to leave Luke’s embrace but wishing he could do something to help you.

“Let’s get her out of here and to the car, yeah?” Quinn suggests, picking up yours and Luke’s bag of merchandise off of the floor of the platform.

Luke just nods, leading you back down the ramp.

Quinn steps over and let’s everyone know to just meet them in the parking garage before following yours and Luke’s intertwined bodies towards the nearest exist.

Luke manages to get you up the stairs and out into the outer ring of the arena without letting you go. Both pairs of your feet moving in tandem, not once risking tripping over one another.

He leads you out of the doors and into the cool night air.

You finally allow yourself to leave his embrace, instantly feeling better in the openness of the outdoors. Never letting go of his hand, you continue to let him lead you to the large garage.

Luke’s BMW sits right where he parked it, the loud beep echoing in the dark garage as he unlocks it.

He opens the passenger door, lifting you slightly to sit you down on the leather seat. His hands come up to your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the stray hairs that were sticking to the damp skin under your eyes.

“All good now?” he asks you, the frantic look of your eyes now gone.

You nod, looking into his concerned eyes. “M’alright. Just got scared. Too many people,” you mumble out, leaning into Luke’s palm slightly. “Sorry I made us go out there. Just wanted to have fun.”

Luke leans his forehead against yours, shaking it back and forth slightly. “No, it’s not your fault. Just bad timing is all,” he assures you, knowing how upset you’re going to be when you realized you missed most of the last song.

He pulls his head back, standing back to his full height outside of the SUV.

You notice Quinn standing a few feet away, letting you and Luke have your space.

Frowning, you call out to the eldest Hughes. “You didn’t have to leave early too, Quinny.”

Quinn looks over when he hears you address him, walking closer to the vehicle.

“Ehh, show was almost over anyways,” he waves you off. “Had to make sure my favorite little munchkin was okay,” he shrugs, telling you its no big deal.

You smile at him, thankful you not only have your boyfriend to look out for you, but Quinn as well.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. Both of you,” you look between the two brothers, only ever seeing how alike they look when they’re standing in front of you.

They both tell you it’s not necessary, the main priority being that you’re safe and sound outside of the arena.

“Fine, I guess that means neither of you want to stop for post-concert pancakes on the way to the lake, then?” you tease, watching both of their heads snap up. All three brothers’ secret love of sweets is something you use to your advantage, only ever having to mention how good ice creams sounds before Luke and Jack are ushering you out of the door and driving you to the nearest ice-cream shop.

“Well, I guess if you really just feel the need to do something nice for us…” Quinn trails off, making a smile break out on your face, unable to hide the laugh at the sudden switch up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you continue to laugh at the pair, Luke leaning in to buckle your seatbelt for you as Quinn climbs in the backseat, sending a quick text to the rest of your group, telling them if they want to join in on the pancake outing, they need to be making their way out of the arena, and fast.

[kaeddehara]

ꨄ︎ . ⋆ TAKE IT OFF — NSFW // PART 1

albedo + heizou + cyno

. ⋆ warnings —» NSFW + MDNI!! + groping + dirty talk + spanking +

. ⋆ notes —» part 1 of a 2 part series which is about these genshin boys favorite type of clothing on you and how they rip it off of you <3

ALBEDO <3 — LINGERIE SET

bedo was always so simple when it came to what he liked. it was never exaggerated or too complex. infact—what he loved most about what you did for him were just simple acts like checking up on him or being there for him when he got burnt out on work.

what he doesn’t mention to you is how much he loves seeing you in lingerie. whether that be more covering and modest or very skimpy and slutty, he loves it all—as long as it’s on you of course. so when you decide to greet bedo with a new set you got, he didn’t know how to contain himself. especially when you reveal it yourself to him—the colored lacy cloth laying so prettily against your skin.

as he reached under your shirt, he felt a rather detailed and thin piece of clothing over your breasts. letting out a soft “hm” at the feeling, he quickly discarded your top only to reveal a rather enticing looking bra you had on. the color looked so nice with your skin and it cupped your pretty tits so nicely he couldn’t help his wondering hands from going up to massage them.

“just got this for you bedo. do you like it?”

albedo was quiet for a few moments, making you nervous that he was disapproving. only, that wasn’t even close to what he was thinking, he was just admiring how beautiful you looked.

“i love it, it looks beautiful on you”

you left a gentle kiss on his lips before you both continued to discard each other’s clothing. it wasn’t until albedo removed one of your last pieces of clothing to reveal matching panties that he had to have you now. pressing two fingers against your clothed slit, he rubbed very gently as to not overwhelm you. you grabbed at his wrist because of how strong the feeling was.

“i’m not sure if i can control myself”

you nervously looked into his eyes, noticing how focused and dilated they were.

“don’t bedo”

as soon as those words left your mouth, you could feel the fabric underneath his fingertips rip. it made you gasp and almost get a little angry at albedo for ripping a pair of panties you just got for him. though, albedo was quick to console you after seeing your reaction.

“don’t worry, i’ll get you a new one i just need you now…”

HEIZOU <3 — FISHNETS

heizou was always a more attentive lover even when it came to how much he worked. and when his attention wasn’t on you, it was easy to be reminded by him that he would give you the much deserved attention once he returned home.

“oh wants under here hm?”

he pulls down a pair of loose fitting pants only to find such a surprise waiting for him.

“fishnets love? didn’t know you were that needy for me.”

he got rid of those pants covering you up as quickly as possible to reveal your lower half in fishnet stalkings. heizou couldn’t do anything except stare for a moment, in awe at how pretty your skin looked squeezed into the tight fabric. he palmed over your thighs, admiring how pretty you looked at his will under the dim lights.

“you don’t even know the effect this has on me do you?”

you stop in your tracks, looking to the side at heizou before giving him a soft smile.

“i remember see you eyeing them and had to get some to wear just for you”

the sultry tone of your voice mixed with the face you shook your thighs and ass a little as you spoke to him. he couldn’t resist this.

heizou landed a slap down on your ass, making you quiet once again.

“only little sluts wear stuff like this, it’s only fair if i treat you like one yeah?”

as he asked you that, his fingers were working on ripping the fabric in between your legs, exposing your pretty pussy and causing your head to turn to the side again, shocked at his sudden actions.

“heizou! w-why did you rip them i’m gonna have to get another-“

“shhhhh, i’ll get you as many as you want just let me fuck you now please. you look way too good right now to pass up.”

CYNO <3 — THIGH HIGHS

coming home from work, cyno was in the routine of getting into bed with you very late. because he had to go out on patrol late at night, he unfortunately couldn’t make it home very early. this would mean he’d usually find you passed out on the couch or bed because you couldn’t stay up any longer. though one night, you caught him off guard by staying up till he came back home. cyno was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep next to you. at least, that’s what he thought at first until he saw you waiting on the bed for him. his look was initially confused until he walked closer and saw what you were wearing.

“what’s all this for?”

“you, cyno”

he stopped in his tracks, taking you in and admiring you up close.

“this is all for me?”

you giggled at the fact he kept asking questions and began to lay yourself back to let him in on top of you.

“yep, all yours”

cyno dragged his fingers down your body starting at your torso and leading down to the pretty thigh highs you were wearing. cyno paid extra close attention to them, fingering at the elastic band and letting it snap against your thigh with a soft jiggle. he cursed under he breath at how beautiful you looked, sprawled out and looking so sweet. cyno couldn’t hold back and you didn’t want him to.

he kissed down your body all the way down to your thighs which he made sure to kiss over more than enough times. even going as far as to suck dark marks into your inner thighs to mark you up and let you know you belong to him.

next thing you know your legs are thrown over his shoulders and he’s pounding you like he hasn’t fucked you in weeks. his long white hair sticking to his forehead and draping down sometimes tickling your face. his pretty half lidded eyes focused on your face. your throat hurt at that point from how much you’d been whining his name and begging for more. at one point cyno gripped your thighs that were originally on his shoulders and drug in nails deep into the cloth, ripping it. you gasped not only at his pace and how good he felt inside you, but also the tearing of your thigh highs you saved up for.

“don’t worry—i’ll get you some new ones tomorrow when i get off work—fuck…just let me cum inside you.”

[vampiriirot]

dear diary (k.ys)

!! pairing: yeosang!nonidol au x fem!reader !! genre: angst !! summary: an arranged marriage that was steering in the right direction, except neither of you realized how much you loved each other. especially yeosang..except he found out too late. !! word count: 1.5k !! playlist: hug me cover by yeosang, j's lullaby by delaney bailey &, present by lloyd vaan

notes: i will write fluff and crack soon i swear!! but oh gosh i sobbed the whole time writing this esp while listening to yeo's hug me cover OML.. but uh here yall go i suppose (this isn't proofread yet jjsjs-) alsooo credits to @fairytopea for this beautiful divider <3

“I found this..when cleaning your room sir” the maid’s voice was distant, muddled as if he were underwater and she watched from the shore. “Leave it on my desk” the words were robotic, Yeosang’s eyes glued to the screen in front of him. Fingers clicking noisily at the keyboard, the laptop’s brightness burning holes into his lenses. Light no longer peeked in through the blinds of his home’s office, the darkness similar to the shadows casted beneath his weary eyes. Hours on end, without halt, were spent before the computer. He stopped going into the office, requesting to work from home. Sometimes spending days and nights, typing away, proofreading files that had been checked over thrice already.

He didn’t have much to look forward to these days.

Nonetheless, once the maid had wandered off, his eyes strayed towards the item she’d brought..a peculiar book. Worn out with time, but familiar regardless. Flashes of the book on the nightstand, sometimes on the porch swing, and then hidden at any other given moment. It was a silly cover, mimicking the book from the infamous anime ‘Death Note’. His heart shrank at the sight, soft laughs taunting his mind as his eyes stared down the inanimate object. He couldn’t focus on the repetitive work on his laptop any longer, so he heaved himself off the chair.

“Take a shower, you reek” a harmonious fit of giggles left her lips, and Yeosang rolled his eyes at the antics. 

Snatching the book off his desk, he trudged through the dim hallways of his home. It resembled a ghosttown at the moment, he was the sole inhabitant currently. The maid, long gone to her gold haven with family. His bedroom was swallowed in darkness, like storm clouds resided over the bed. He didn’t bother changing, only falling backwards into the plush, icy mattress. Chills settled permanently over the house, the atmosphere was constantly cold and lifeless.

He gripped at the notebook, lifting himself upwards so he was seated on the bed. Eyes lingering on the stickers pressed all over the gloomy black cover, little smiley faces staring back at him. It was a sight of normalcy he craved, the eccentric chaos he missed. Her beautifully peculiar nature. After a lifetime, his finger peeled open the cover, to reveal neat handwriting scrawled into the first page. It was dated for May 3rd, one year prior.

“Dear diary…No that sounds weird. Dear journal? I don’t know what to call this, I’ll figure it out. But today marks my first week of being married (even though it was arranged)! You think a girl would be swooning, especially since he’s such a hunk. But..I kinda think he hates me. Unfortunately because he’s so handsome, I guess it’s my mission to get him to fall in love with me. It will take loads of work, since he’s so quiet but I’m determined! My first tactic will be cooking him his favorite meal..and I will update once it’s done!”

“Update, I nearly burnt the kitchen down. Thank god the maid was there and it wasn’t too bad but oh god he looked so angry..He didn’t even come into the room after..disheartening but I hope some takeout will make it up to him..”

A small smile tugged at his lips, the words ushering him into their first week of marriage. He remembered it all too well, coming home to her shrieking and the maid helping her put out the small fire. He was indeed infuriated, so much so he had spent the rest of the night in his office. At an ungodly hour of the night, he heard knocking at the wooden door. She peeked her head in, holding out a tray like a peace offering.

“M’sorry for the whole..accident. I got some takeout though!” he couldn’t forget the way his heart swelled at her gesture, when she placed the tray and rushed out of the office in a flustered hurry. The plastic container was neatly arranged with utensils and a crisp bottle of water. A note attached the napkin, and it provoked a snicker from him.

‘Sleep soon or else you’ll be cranky in the morning.’

Lost in the memories, he needed more, flipping frantically onto another page. This entry was dated to December 24th of last year, Christmas eve? 

“Dear diary (it’s so cringe but anyways). It’s already Christmas, wow time flies when you’re so busy. Things are the same I suppose, but I bought him a gift! It’s a really stupid gift but I thought it suited him really well. He’s like a doberman, Yeosang the doberman. It has a great ring to it, so I got him this doberman plushy. It’s big and super cute, and I wrote this card with it…I hope he’ll like it. He seemed extra stressed this week and I didn’t want to make it all worse. What’s stupid is that, no matter how distant he seems, I find myself falling for him even more. Beneath all his stoicness, he’s a sweetheart (or that’s what I keep telling myself). Anyways, I’m writing this like two minutes before midnight so merry christmas to my journal.. Thanks for listening to me ramble!”

Her innocence, and childishness, was so sugary sweet. A delicacy he pushed away constantly, for no reason besides the fact that their relationship was an arrangement. The smile that stretched over his lips upon opening the gift, and reading over the note when she was asleep. He didn’t realize it, but he was beyond obsessed, infatuated with this angel he’d been blessed with. In her sleep, he pressed one tender kiss to her forehead, and watched over her gentle form with sheer adoration. It was the best Christmas a man like him could’ve ever asked for.

May 2nd of this year…it was the page he flipped onto without mind. Her final entry, the morning before everything was meant to crumble. 

“Dear diary, today I’ve got an appointment with my doctor for a checkup. Yeosang’s busy in a meeting so he can’t drop me off, but he’s sent the driver to pick me up. Tomorrow’s our one year anniversary, and I’ve got a whole surprise planned. First: We’ll have dinner at the beachside restaurant and then we’ll go on a walk across the sand till sunset. Once the sun starts setting, I’ll tell him..how much he means to me. I don’t think he realizes it and I don’t know if he feels the same way, but in the year that we’ve been married, I felt my life take a 180. He’s one of the only people who deals with my antics without complaint, even though he seems annoyed..he’s still silent about it. Gosh I sound so lovesick…but he makes me feel complete. I love him so much, I know this was just an arranged marriage and yet..I can’t help but love everything about him. His pretty smile that is reserved for my silliest jokes, the birthmarks on the side of his face that I just can’t help but reach out and pet sometimes… I hope he loves me even if it’s just a little bit, I’ll be over the damn moon! The driver’s here now, I’ll update you later :)”

His fingers dragged along the penmanship, a tear staining the page. He couldn’t ruin this too, this didn’t deserve to be tainted. Streams of painful tears stained his cheeks and continued to flow, a choked out sob crawling out of his throat. Heart constricted and aching, he hugged the notebook and bawled. Nobody would come to comfort him in this loneliness, the sunshine long gone and he couldn’t even say a proper goodbye. He couldn’t tell her how much he loved her gorgeous smile that would brighten his world. Her sense of humor that would beat any comedian in her path. Everything about her made it all worthwhile.

“Yeosang?” her voice croaked, Yeosang’s hands holding onto hers for dear life. On the hospital bed, bleeding and bruised, the doctors at the bedside ready like grim reapers. “I’m here angel” a single tear trickled down her battered face, and he rushed to wipe it away. “It’s the first time you called me that” she wept, and pulled his hand close to her lips. She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his hand, and all the strength he was mustering came so close to crashing down. He had to be strong for her, he wouldn’t want her final memories of him to be a sobbing mess.

“I love you Yeosang” the final part of his name came out in an exhausted sigh. Her hold on his hand fell limp, and the machines laughed at him with their flatlining noise. He cried out, shaking her as nurses shoved him out of the room. Their attempts were feeble, all the doctor did was place his hand on Yeosang’s shoulder. As if it could soothe him, yet nothing would. Nothing in the world would soothe him anymore, the sun was gone, the candle’s flames all burnt out.

“I love you too” he whispered into the mocking silence, with hopes that she was watching over him now. In his broken state, crumpled on the bed, with her book tight in his arms.

[striderl]

I have a general art-related question, if that's okay. I admire how _quickly_ you seem to be able to produce art -- whenever someone sends you a character-based ask, you seem to always answer it with a nice little picture (not just a scribble or something) with lineart and often colouring too! Do you have any advice for acquiring art stamina like that? I used to enjoy drawing, but got burnt out on it because every piece felt like so much WORK and it drained the enjoyment for me. I absolutely could not match the output you do!

Thanks for the compliment, lensman! Your drawings are equally cool too! I'm engrossed in the textures especially. And yes, sometimes I’m even amazed by the many asks I’m able to answer in a single week. Usually, I answer them within 3 days, in rare occasions, it may take me 2 weeks or so to answer them.

As for insights, there you go.

#1: Practice is the key. To not get art block, you need to be constantly practicing, like doing scribbles on your sketchbook when you have time. It can be anything, from basic shapes to “whatever you can spy with your little eye”. Also, improve your speed while doing it, and limit your time to finish an acceptable rough draft, so you won’t lose the motivation to finish the entire drawing.

#2: Mastery. READ THE MANUAL AND INSTRUCTION of whatever platform you are using to make art, and master the tools, so you won’t drag on too long on a single project. Personally, I use a mixture of Procreate and ibisPaint X to make art and comics. And the skills don’t come for free, you need to constantly learn new features in order to keep up the pace and limit the time you spend on each project. Honestly, I think I spend more time on Youtube, Pinterest, and Instagram scavenging art tips and resources than doing other things with them. The result is rather rewarding, the knowledge I gained about the color wheel, anatomy, and platform features like multiply and overlay are really helpful.

#3: Reference. I always have available anatomy or art references on my side, usually from Pinterest, so I don’t need to waste time speculating what the result would look like. I also collect references I’m interested in whenever I have time, so I’m well prepared whenever I want to start a new project.

If you want to check it out, this is the cover I made for Foley’s playlist, which I finished within 3 hours.

#4: Motivation. You need to truly enjoy the process of producing art in order to not get an art block. I think I never get a single art block period so far. Why? It’s the only way I get to relieve my anxiety. College can be really harsh sometimes, I have a really small social circle, and on top of that I need to deal with stress which most of my peers don’t even need to worry about, like managing an apartment, doing accounting on my own, taking care of electric bills, and more. What’s worse is that people can be massive suckers sometimes, and I just turned 18 a few months ago. I know I can’t just throw a tantrum or jump off a building whenever I feel stressed, so I just move on and focus my attention on doing better in art. If people want to insult me, I just insult them back with my talent.

Also, I mentioned this in my reblog to your Skibidi Toilet anniversary post. My parents don’t approve of me doing art like this, because it’s “unrealistic” and basically “useless”, I just want some space where I can express my creativity. Ironically, defiance can be a motivation sometimes.

Plus, I just purely enjoy the feeling of sitting in my room, listening to my favorite playlist, and sipping on a cup of hazelnut matcha, while doing art. And I always, ALWAYS appreciate people putting comments in their reblogs, it’s like an accomplishment, and it shows that people really check out my content and READ IT, instead of “wow, cool art”.

If I don't feel like doing art, I'll just go for a 5 miles run instead. Physical health is still important : }

[losingherface]

Summer Wounds

info: When reader gets home from patrol with a huge injury across her face, insecurities start to creep up.

Abby X Fem reader

Warnings: nothing :P

Thanks to this person for the idea! <3

•

“…Fuck!” You screamed from the bathroom in your little shared space at the WLF stadium. You had been patting a huge and deep cut in your face with some kind of healing treatment. The treatment burnt your injury, sending sensations throughout your body.

Earlier that day, you had been running from seraphites with your girlfriend Abby before landing face first on a rock. You bled out a bit before she ripped a piece of her shirt for you to cover the wound with.

The two of you separated once you arrived at the stadium since she had some things to take care of with Isaac and you of course, had to take care of this.

-

You’ve been in the bathroom for a few hours at this point- attempting to clean the wound, stitch it up and ultimately failing each time.

It felt like forever especially because of the tears that had been pouring down every time it didn’t work out. You wish Abby was there to help but something dawned on you.

This was definitely gonna leave a huge scar across your face. The dried blood looked dirty and made you look unkept. No matter how much you cleaned it. Of course this was all in your head, maybe.

As your thoughts started to drift into utter disgust for yourself- a knock on the door brought you back into reality.

“….Y/n You there?” It was Abby. You glanced over the mess in the bathroom, hoping to find a bandage that wasn’t used yet.

“…Yeah I’ll be right there. Just come in!”

You hear the door open and close, familiar light footsteps approaching the bathroom door. “Hey, you doing okay?” Abby says. You always want to melt a bit when she acts all protective of you. You felt a little sad though, what if this was it? What if she decides there’s no point in dating? I mean we’re going to die anyways? What if she thinks you’re ugly and dates someone else? What if the scar is worse the wound itself?

“Y/n..?” She says again, pulling you back in like always.

“Abby. Please don’t be disgusted.”

“….What is it?”

“Abby. It’s gross. Bloody like a crime scene in here. Don’t you think blood is gross?”

“Babe.. I see blood everyday. Did I ever tell you that I helped a horse give birth? Nothing grosses me out. Open up.”

You hesitated, pulling the used up bandage off your somewhat bloody wound. The wound was across your face from cheek, over the nose, to the left cheekbone.

You opened up the door.

“Oh my god…” She said. You walked past her. “ I know, I look ugly as fuck. Luckily, There’s plenty of girls here that are crazy about you though.” You sighed and sat on the bed.

Abby didn’t say anything, still standing from the bathroom and looking at you. You weren’t looking at her so all you heard was a small laugh.

She walked over to you and got down on her knees, facing you.

“…Are you being serious right now?” She whispered.

“The wound is deep, it’s there forever. I’m always going to look weird now.”

“Relax. Why are you acting like this?” Abby says softly, caressing your hands, full protector mode. (🧍🏽‍♀️)

“Listen to me, how long have we been together?” She asked you.

“…….Five years.”

“Five years. You were there when my dad died. You were there when I killed his attacker. You were there when people were looking for me. I was there when they almost killed you. I was there when your family was killed. We’re always there for each other. We have the greatest bond and love for each other than anyone out here. Only in five years. And I’m sorry, but a stupid wound across your face isn’t even close to being a dealbreaker for me. You understand me?”

You felt the tears starting to come down and she knew. She cupped your face with her large hands, wiping away the tears and kissing your bloody face. “I love you Abby.” You told her, she didn’t have to answer back because you knew she loved you. She always showed you better than she can tell you.

“…Let’s go clean up that bathroom and take you down to the clinic.”

She helped stand you up but before you two walked off together, she kissed your forehead.

You loved being loved by Abby. It was a privilege that made you strong and so, so, so scared.

•

•

a/n: a little short but i think this was really cute. Thx for reading ofc! <3

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Fear pt. 4

;) a bit of implied smut, embarrassment, fluff

din x f!reader

masterlist

I laid in my bunk, seeing stars after I had finished, my chest heaving. A soft knock woke me from my stupor. I quickly pulled up the bottom half of my flight suit and put on my helmet in preparation for opening the door. 

“I...” Her breathing hitched, scanning me. I had ‘forgotten’ to pull my flight suit up enough to cover the tight tank top that stuck to the sweat of my body, “I thought you were maybe hurt... I heard, uh...” She mumbled, now looking at her feet and a deep red blush played on her face and neck. 

“No, Mesh’la, I’m not hurt. Sorry to bother you-“ I caught myself in realization of what I just revealed... I prayed to anything in the galaxy that would listen that she didn’t know a lick of Mano’a.

It seems my prayers were answered because she just flashed me a polite, awkward, smile and walked off back to the cock pit.

//////////////////

“Mesh’la...” I mulled the word over in my head, wondering what it meant. I just hoped it wasn’t a curse or an insult. 

My frown of concentration was replaced with a smirk... was he doing what I thought he was doing?

“Damn Mando, youre one hell of a man” I said, chuckling to myself and shaking my head, “this is gonna be a long ride.”

He never told me exactly where I could sleep on his ship, so I just let myself doze off in the cockpit... it least it would ensure the fact that I’d hear the enemy proximity buzzer go off.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed until I felt two strong hands lift me from the co-pilots chair. I was almost too exhausted to care but when I peeked through my eyelids to see him, I let my body melt into his arms completely.

I woke up in a small cot like bed, surrounded by blankets that smelled familiar... they smelled like The Mandalorian; musk, soap, and blaster fire. I could’ve laid here until I died, especially with the new found knowledge that I was in his bed.

///////

I couldn’t just leave her there. She was scrunched up in the fetal position, fussing in her sleep in order to find a comfortable position. I decided to put her in the only comfortable sleeping quarters this ship possessed...mine. 

Seeing her lay there, flight suit just hanging on to her shoulders and unzipped... I could help but feel that gnawing feeling once more. I wanted her and I knew it. 

I sat on the side of the bed, knowing exhaustion would win her over against feeling the weight of the bed shift. Moving a stay piece of hair from her face, I whispered “Mesh’la” once more before leaving her to sleep.

We had finally made it to the place where we were to drop the bounty and collect the credits, but it broke something in me to wake her up. 

Taking the carbonite frozen criminal, I walked off the ship, then lifted the hatch back up to ensure she would be safe when I was gone. 

Once I returned, credits heavy in my flight suits pocket, she was still fast asleep. I couldn’t help bit chuckle and admire her. I’d let that woman sleep until every sun in the galaxy burnt out of that would make her happy...

I decided to take this moment to walk into the refresher, sorely needing it.

I let the hot water run over my strained muscles, but the thought of her laying in my bed made it impossible to relax. 

A muffled moan escaped my mouth as I touched myself, unable to think of anything but her.

///////////////////////

I heard the water of the refresher burst to life, and the smell of soap filled my senses. I desperately needed a shower myself. 

I groaned, stretching out my body in his bed. His bed.

I heard the same sound as last night... soft moans, groaning, and panting. 

Something for sure was getting him worked up... it couldn’t be me ...could it?

I waited to hear the water stop running but it seemed to stay on for way longer than you would’ve thought. I finally heard one last groan and the water stopped abruptly. 

There was something about knowing that there was a worked up Mandalorian in the room next to me, and having the thoughts of the tight tank top that clung to his body in my head that made me hunger for him. Sure, it had been a long time since you felt the touch of a man... but this was a different feeling. It was need rather than want.

[funkymbtifiction]

Gosh I hate applying for things. I just get so overwhelmed by all the possibilities and am like “well how can I know for sure I’ll like this program? I haven’t done it, I haven’t talk to anyone who’s done it, I’m just BS-ing based on the website info.”

Are you a 6? I hope so, because otherwise this advice won't help. I get people who ask me questions mixed up sometimes...

If so, it's because you're living through your mind rather than being in touch with your instincts or your heart. I am the same way, only this indecision ranges all the way from major life decisions to little things like "... but would I LIKE having my video collection in paper sleeves instead of hard cases?" (I have had just the discs in sleeves and hated it, but it's taking up so much space... so I removed a couple of the covers, folded them carefully, and stuck them and the discs in sandwich bags, so I could get a sense of what it would be like -- and I liked it! I think having the cover art with it, since I am visual, makes all the difference. And then of course this morning I woke up thinking, "Are you SURE you liked it?" Ugh.)

It's unfortunately true that an EP isn't going to know in advance what they like or if they like it until they have done it. But the only way to find out if you like it is to try it. You don't have to stick with it (contrary to all the over-thinking 6s do, and how we tend to make every decision a potentially soul-crushing one -- like it never occurs to us in the planning stage that we could just... quit if we hate it; no, we think of ourselves locked into this profession that we hate for the next 60 years... especially if our 7 wing hates commitment and thinks OMG, I could get stuck in a BORING soul-crushing career!).

Basically, how can I make myself more genuinely enthusiastic for a variety of programs? How can I tell if something is sincerely “not for me” or whether I’m just feeling burnt out/unable to envision what it’s like?

Stop looking at it as a potential soul-trap, and start looking at it as a way to gain the life experience you will need to make faster and more self-aware decisions moving forward. (How do I know I won't like this? Because this is very similar to that, and the last time I tried it, I hated it. So the answer is that this job would suffocate me.)

Secondly, try things. Third, listen to your body and how it responds to the questions you are asking. Put your hand over your midsection and shut your eyes and think about you doing that job, based on what you know about it. What does your body tell you? Did you feel a flutter of excitement or did you tense up with dread? Are you in touch with what I assume is your secondary Fi at all? Do you know what you like and don't like yet? If not, put yourself out there and find out. Stop over-thinking and allow yourself to just try, with the awareness that if it doesn't work, you can walk away from it.

You can also do research online about what it's like by people who do it -- you don't need to talk personally to or know them to gain insight from them. If you are indeed SP, borrow a trick my ENFJ friend uses when she can't make up her mind -- try to imagine yourself doing that job. What it would look and be like, and see if you like it.

[thisaintascenereviews]

Normandie - Dopamine

Due to how saturated lot of scenes can be, regardless of genre, there are a lot of bands that I don’t listen to or that I haven’t listened to. It’s not always because I don’t like these bands, but stuff falls through the cracks. I can’t listen to everything, especially when I’m trying to limit a lot of what I listen to. Not that I’m purposely skipping things, but when I got back into new music, and got back into writing about new music, I made a pact to myself that was essentially only listening to things I’m genuinely interested in. Back about a decade ago, I would write about anything and everything, as well as listen to whatever I could find. Part of that was due to discovering new music, and getting into a lot of new stuff, but I just got burnt out. Whether it was from writing about music, and having a lot of the same things to say, and listening to stuff because I felt I had to, not because I wanted to, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Part of the issue I have with a lot of critics is that some feel as though they need to cover the hot album of the week, versus what they want to talk about, even though I understand wanting to hitch a ride on the hype train when something is popular, but why sell yourself out when it doesn’t make you happy? My point is, I miss out on things every now and again, but I’ll gladly give bands that I passed out a chance.

That includes the new album from Swedish band Normandie, entitled Dopamine, and they’re a band that I’ve definitely missed out on, but better late than never, right? I’ve heard of this band, though, just never listened to them, but part of that is because they never really interested me enough to seek them out. With how saturated their brand of pop-rock meets post-hardcore is, I was never curious enough to listen to them, but I have gotten into that sound a lot more over the last couple of years, so I figured I’d check out Dopamine to see if it’s any good, and I gotta say, I really enjoy this album. It might even be one of my favorites of the year, or at least an early contender, but I’ll admit that they don’t do anything I haven’t heard before. Normandie’s sound is rooted in the pop-rock and post-hardcore that bands like Caskets, Archetypes Collide, and Wind Walkers are utilizing, but they have an emphasis on pop-rock. Their sound is hookier, catchier, and less “heavy” than a lot of other bands in this vein, which I think is a good thing, because they focus more on hooks than being heavy.

This wouldn’t work if the hooks weren’t strong, and frankly, this album has some of the best hooks I’ve heard in this vein in a long time. It helps that their vocalist is great, too, but their hook-heavy sound really works to their advantage. The main issue I have with this album is that it is rather generic, and they don’t do anything with their brand of post-hardcore, but I will admit that when the album goes a little heavier in a few songs, it’s a welcome change. It adds a unique flavor, and I always love when bands get slightly heavier to accent their sound, versus using it at a crutch. There isn’t much else to this album, and ultimately, if you like this sound, you’ll like this album. Dopamine has a pretty straightforward sound that you’ve heard before, most likely, but it’s done well. The performances are all good, and the lyrics are quite good, too, but this album is a good example of one that does what it does well, and that’s all you need sometimes.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 123

Caged Heat/The Eleventh Hour

Doing something I haven’t in a LONG time tonight: watching the episodes back to back

“Caged Heat”

Plot Description: The demon Meg kidnaps Sam and Dean for information about Crowley. Sam offers to help her if she’ll help get his soul back

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: well, if I were a shapeshifter, no. But since I’m not…Crowley would have no interest in me this season

I guess when you stop the apocalypse and are no longer needed to be vessels, demons stop being delicate around you

How much you wanna bet “working with and double crossing multiple demons, including the king of hell” is gonna blow up in their face? At least for some amount of time. Obviously we have nine and half more seasons

Sam are you trying to lure Cas by saying you have the Ark of the Covenant? But like specifically the Raiders of the Lost Ark one?? This is just mean. You really think Castiel knows the plot of Raiders?? Much less have time to watch it while heaven has a civil war going on?

How DARE you threaten my perfect angel, Sam

Ugh, Samuel.

I really like this conversation about Samuel wanting Crowley to bring Mary back, especially Dean begging him to not go through with it because he KNOWS how that plays out

Oh ace coded Castiel I love you so much. “It’s very complex. If the pizza man truly loves this babysitter, why does he keep slapping her rear? … perhaps she’s done something wrong” He is watching it so stone-face, you’d think he’s been reading smut on ao3 for years

Is Cas already working with Crowley at this point? Something in the way he’s staring feels different…feels off. Or is this the genesis of it?

I didn’t even consider what Sam’s soul would be going through down there…….nor that Sam would be listening in on this conversation

I know he’s the king of hell and all, but the conditions these supernatural creatures are living in are just cruel

Well thank god they brought along two extra no name demons to Crowley’s hide out to be puppy chow for the hellhounds

Did they bring Meg back just to kill her off?? Sounds about right for Supernatural

Dammit Samuel. Wtf. You sold out your own grandsons to Crowley??

IT IS NOT THE SAME THING. Dean didn’t choose between Sam and Mary, who should get to live. Sam’s here now (even though his soul’s missing), Dean made no deals to bring him back. To bring back Mary you’d have to condem Sam

So glad Dean’s calling him out on it

The demon torture scenes (because Ruby had one too if I remember correctly) are so…exploitative of these actresses. I don’t think they stripped down Alistair and then covered up the bits that would force the show to go to HBO with the smallest possible straps of leather in On the Head of a Pin

Hey Sam?? Whatcha doin buddy?? Drinkin your own blood? HOOOOOOOLY SHIT. Drew a RATHER LARGE demon trap on the ceiling in his own blood. How’s he not passed out from blood loss?

So…why can’t he just summon his very large hellhound like he did when Bobby trapped him?

How does she have that much control over him??

The…the way Cas just burnt Crowley to death…when will the torture of ME stop?

Ah damn, Sam doesn’t want his soul back, again

“Been On My Mind…”: does…Castiel count for this??

“The Eleventh Hour”

Plot Description: The Doctor has regenerated into a brand new man, but danger strikes before he can even recover

Yeah. So I’m still sad about David leaving us…

How’d he get outside the TARDIS though??

The front garden at Amy’s childhood home is so idyllic. Lil baby Amyyyyyy

It’s so weird to see him in Ten’s clothes still, even though it makes sense

You know…he brings up a good point. Amy’s lucky she’s in Doctor Who and not Supernatural. It’s the middle of the night, and a man in a box falls from the sky into her yard and not only does she go to investigate, not only does she invite him into her home, she feeds him. And he’s SO. WEIRD. If this were spn she’d be dead already

Oh. Oh little Amyyyy. The Doctor telling her he’ll be right back and she says “people always say that” and then (though it’s not his fault and it’s been only a few minutes for him) she’s proven right 😭😭😭 oh the poor babyyyy

Knowing what I know now, this scene where Amy’s in her work uniform and interrogating the Doctor is really weird and SAD. Like…she’s talking to NO ONE on the other end saying this guy knows something about Amelia Pond

Those comatose patients are not calling out for you, lady.

Oh we’re in that weird timeframe where it wasn’t SUPER uncommon for people’s cellphones to not also be everything else too, and that’s why Rory has to explain it’s also a camera

THAT is the funny little twist. It’s not the Prisoner Zero identity it’s what whatever’s looking for is referring to as “the human residence.” It’s not Amy’s house…it’s Earth. They’ll incinerate EARTH

I forgot she kept biting her psychiatrists because they’d tell her the Doctor wasn’t real 💀

Man, how come David spent a whole day asleep but Matt is, well, not 100% ready to go but he’s CONSCIOUS

I wish they’d kinda done more with how well known Amy was in her hometown. It’s so funny watching everyone go “oh my god, that’s him! It’s the Doctor!”

Oh Rory

Is that Olivia Coleman???

(I fell asleep with like 8 min left and didn’t wake up til almost midnight)

Man, they planted the pandorica and silence stuff EARLY

I mean, Rory’s got a point. But also yeah “leaving is good, never coming back is better.”

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[bowdownbucky]

𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃, 𝐁𝐀𝐃 !

part 2 <3

summary: you have an encounter with your best friend’s brother bucky!

pairing: innocent! reader x college! bucky

warnings: cursing, asshole! steve rogers, kissing, drug use, oral (female receiving) fingering.

your heart began to beat heavily, bucky didn’t care that his sister was outside of the door but you started to feel guilty. this was so wrong of you and you didn’t even want to look at yourself. “you better answer her sweethear, she’s not gonna leave.” bucky taunts you, he hand trails your stomach, groping your breasts hard. “uh-im almost finished, i h-had to ohhh.” you slap you hand over your mouth, bucky smirks as he pinches you nipple again.

“what?” rebecca moved closer to the door. “are you okay? i’m coming in.” your eyes widens, you pushed bucky away and slowly cracked the door. “i’m f-fine, the um…pizza! the pizza went down the wrong hatch.” you lie. rebecca’s face screws up. “ew i did not need to know that y/n” you watch as she walks into her room. you close the door, leaning your head back onto the wooden frame.

you closed your eyes and hoped that this was all a dream, that you didn’t actually kiss your best friends brother. you slowly open your eyes only to meet a pair of blue eyes, bucky laughs at you. “went down the wrong hatch? seriously?” you cross your arms in front of your chest. “well what was i supposed to say, sorry can’t talk now i’m making out with your brother. she’s kill me!” you exclaim, you ran your hands down your face in an irrational manner. this was too much for you and bucky didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“would you chill out? here take a hit, it will make you feel better.” bucky offers the small bud once more, you smack it out of his hand. “do you always solve your problems with weed!” you hiss. his eyes were low, he watched as the joint flew onto the ground. you hitch your breath realizing what you did, you see his tongue rub his lower lip. you almost melt at the sight.

“your gonna regret the doll.” he seethes into your ear. he pushes you against the door, you let out a yelp but he covers your mouth. “i know a way you can make it up to me, and you are gonna make it up to me. you know why baby?” you shake your head. “because you don’t want to get on my bad side. i would hate to ruin that innocence of yours.” he whisperers, he hands managed to find their way to you ass, giving it a light squeeze before letting you go.

you move from the door and he exits the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you could barely comprehend what happened let along what he meant by his bad side. you grabbed the nail polish remover and walk back to rebecca room. “finally! you took forever.” you mumble a small sorry and sat on her bed, she lends you her hand and you get to work on her nails, she chose a peach color and wanted you to add a french tip, such a classic.

as you continue painting her nails she squeals making you mess up the curved line. “becca! your nails!” you groan. “i don’t care! why didn’t you tell me?” you tilt your head confusingly. “you and steve hooked up and you didn’t tel me?!” you eyes go wide. “what! no! where did you get that from?” you ask her. she huffs. “no, no, no, no don’t try to act all innocent! you and chris did it and there is evidence on your neck. i rest my case.” you rush off the bed and check your neck, you internally face palm seeing dark purple marks all over your neck.

“i had no idea steve was like that. i guess i have to stop making fun of him now.” she chuckles. “just taking me home my ass! so how was it? was he big? why arent you giving me details.” rebecca whines, kicking her feet in her bed. you ignored her and attempted to kneed out the hickies. as you run the marks you notice bucky staring at you from his room door, you could practically feel his smirk as you watched his reflection go back to his room. you heart raced as you tried to come up with an excuse.

“it’s no big deal i just burnt myself with a straightener.” you curse to yourself knowing she wouldn’t fall for that. “fine don’t tell me! i’m going to sleep, all this secrecy has made me tired.” rebecca yawns, you hoped she wouldn’t ask you about the hickey again because lying was never your forte. you lie in the large bed, clouded in your own thoughts.

did he like you? was he just messing with you? you had so many assumptions of why he kissed you, what bothered you the most was that you had steve. steve was a jock and you were an outcast, you didn’t know how it would work. even though you and steve hadn’t officially said you were together, you still respected him and wanted to be faithful.

the next morning at school, you kept your head down and didn’t talk to anyone for the most part. no one really seems to notice because you were kind of a nobody. you sat in your forensics class, jotting down notes here and there. you stop writing when you feel a hand creep up your thigh. you turn your head toward steve, he kept a straight face and didn’t acknowledge how unamused you were.

“what are you doing?” you whisper. steve’s hand tries to travel up your skirt but you close your legs firmly. “steve!” he turns to you. “we’re in the middle of class.” you point out. “i’m sorry you know i can’t resist you baby. let me make it up to you but taking you out after homecoming.” you hault yourself as you almost roll your eyes at him. steve could be pushy sometimes especially when it came to losing your virginity to him. you hated that rebecca told him that, now he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“oh really.” you say pretending to be intrigued. “the guys and i bought hotel rooms for tonight and we get to bring a special girl along. and you know since your my favorite girl, i thought we could go together and have fun. go swimming, watch movies, kiss, cuddle, the whole nine and maybe some other stuff if you want.” you remove his hand from your thigh and continue writing notes. “i told you steve i’m not ready for that stuff yet.”

steve huffs, returning back to the lesson. your virginity wasn’t something that you kept sacred but you wanted you first time to be meaningful and steve hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet so your answer would always be no if he asked. when school ended you took the bus home, you quickly packed a bag full of makeup, hair supplies and your clothes for homecoming. you checked the time, almost cursing yourself seeing how you were going to be late to rebecca’s house.

you ran as fast as you could to the barnes’ house, you could practically feel the lecture rebecca was going to give you. luckily, you live a few blocks down from the barnes so it wouldn’t be too long of a walk/run. when you arrived at the barnes’ you quickly rang the doorbell. the door opens’ revealing a shirtless bucky who looked like he just got out of the shower. “can i help you?” he smirks looking down on you.

“becca t-told m-me to come, for homecoming.” you gulped attempting to maintain eye contact. his couldn’t help but peek at his glistened abs, you really hoped he didn’t catch on to you checking him out. before he could let out a snarky comment rebecca came gritting down the stairs with curlers in her hair. “there you are! y/n your late and we only have three hours to get ready.” you pushed pass bucky and ran up the stairs.

bucky watched at how nervous you were, it was like the fuel he ran on. rebecca closed her door and pushes you onto her vanity chair. “please tell me i have creative freedom tonight!” rebecca pleads with her big blue eyes staring at you. you sigh and nod. she kisses your forehead before beginning your makeup.

after a few hours of prodding, poking, blending, and brushing, rebecca finally finished your makeup and hair. normally you wouldn’t wear makeup because you didn’t know how to do it very well but when you did have it on you truly looked like a princess. “now carefully get into your dress y/n, i swear to god if you mess up an eyelash i will kill you.” she threatens you with her high pitched voice. you removed your jeans and shirt revealing your body, you quickly unzipped the dress as you start to compare your body to rebecca’s. becca was tall and slim while you were a little curvy. you had a small tummy with stretchmarks and she had a flat tummy with a slender waist. your best friend was beautiful and you didn’t want to see mom jealous, so you put up a front and delt with it.

you and rebecca were finally dressed, rebecca looked stunning in her white and pink dress. with the help of rebecca and mrs.barnes, you had pick a pale green dress, the curve of the dress fit you like a glove. the creases on the dress made you look more mature and sexier. you were never use to being sexy so the look on your face made rebecca freak out. “you totally hate it, i knew we should’ve gone with the black dress.” you shake your head. “n-no! it looks…great. thank you becks.” the door opens, your heart quickens when you meet a pair of bright eyes. you noticed bucky had put on a shirt, a part of you were bummed out. “would it kill you to knock! we’re girls who need privacy!” rebecca yells. bucky didn’t give his sister the time of day, his eyes were fixated on you. you felt self conscious as he stared at you long and hard. “mom and dad are going to a banquet dinner in manhattan. they won’t be back until tomorrow.” he tells rebecca. she crossed her arms in confusion. “what? no! i was supposed to have the car tonight. how the hell are we supposed to get to hoco?” rebecca flings her arms up dramatically.

bucky chuckles at his sister’s agony. “wait!” you spoke up as bucky was about to walk away. “c-can y-ou drive us?” you ask quietly. rebecca pulled your arm. “are you crazy? do you know what people say if we shows up to homecoming in a pickup truck?” rebecca vocalized. you couldn’t care less what people had to say, you just wanted and excuse to be see bucky. “becca this is important to you and even you said yourself we had to be there under any circumstances.”

rebecca whines. “fine but you’re dropping us off a block away. i need to retouch my hair, you’ve made me stress away the curls.” you watched as she pushes past bucky, leaving the two of you. you stare at him for a second then turn around, attempting to act uninterested. “you know you should skip this whole homecoming thing altogether.” bucky told you. “what! no, this is important to becca and i promised her i’d be there.” you felt his presence behind you, your back was pressed to his front. “come on doll, you never seemed like the type to be into this stuff anyway. i have a few places we could go instead. wouldn’t that be way more fun.” he was baiting you and hell, you were falling for it very hard. he pushed your hair to the side, laying a kiss on your shoulder. his hand cupped your waist, pulling you as close as you could get.

his pressed more kisses up your neck, he liked testing you, he would make you beg for it if you gave him the chance. “c’mom dollface, don’t you wanna have fun with me?” you almost gave him a nod but refrained. “i should go help rebecca, see you in a few james.” you walk away smiling to yourself, you won this round of the game but best believe, bucky was going to win the next level.

you sat in between bucky and rebecca once more, y’all were currently picking up nathan and steve, your dates for the evening. “you look beautiful beck.” nathan smiles at his girlfriend. rebecca left you in the front with bucky so she could kiss her boyfriend more. steve walks to the front car door but bucky locks him out. “hey man, open the door.” steve groans. the two had seem to have history and now you were going to be in between it. “you know the rules big guy, no douches in the front seat.” bucky smirks. “then why are you sitting up here asshole?” steve sarcastically jokes. rebecca huffed from the back, leaning in the front of the seat. “hey dickheads, we don’t have time for this, have your cat fight after hoco. let’s go!” she demands. steve huffs, taking a seat next to the couple who had no problem with pda.

the ride to the school was pretty silent except for the rock music playing from the radio. you stared out of the window, you could tell bucky was mad because of how tight he was holding the steering wheel, his knuckles were almost white from the tight grip. suddenly, his hand was on your thigh. your eyes widened, you quickly look back to make sure no one saw what was happening. “what are you doing?” you whisper. he doesn’t say anything to you, his hand stays on your thigh and his eyes stay on the road but you could still see the smirk on his face. you tried to push his his hand away but he only moves it higher, almost touching your core. you didn’t want to play games anymore, you were never built for them, you open your legs up more, instead of doing what you wanted, he removed his hand. “alright guys, have a good night.” rebecca and nathan were the first ones to leave the truck. steve exits the truck and stands by youre window. “you coming?” you nod to him. “i’ll be out in a second.” steve walks away from the window, bucky bursts out into laughter.

you throw a punch at his arm but he doesn’t flinch at you. “thats not funny! you’re so mean.” you pout. “no what’s funny is you actually going out with steve.” you eye him in confusion. steve was a good guy, he could be a little pushy but that was just high school boys. “he’s nice and he asked me to go with him. i really don’t see what’s funny bucky.”

“you think just because the guy asked you to a dance, he suddenly changes his player ways. i think you forgot i use to be one of those guys. guys like that don’t fal for girls like you” he pauses. “all he wants is to get you under him and then he’s gonna hop to the next willing participant. god you’re so naive.” you crossed your arms. “you’re such a jerk james! at least he has the decency to not play with my feelings! you’re sister was right! you’re nothing but a-an…asshole.” you yell, leaving the truck with a slam of the door. you surprised yourself at how you went off on him, what did he know about steve. you knew being involved with bucky was bad but now you officially got your sign to stay away from him.

you walked into the school looking for steve. you pushed pass people grinding and dancing on each other. when you find steve you see he’s not alone, he was dancing with lila miller. the two were close together, you turn you back in disgust once you catch the two of them share a very tongue-filled kiss. you sit at the table in annoyance. of course bucky would be right about steve, you hated the fact that he was right.

it took an hour and a half for steve to find you sitting at the table, watching everyone have fun. “hey y/n sorry i was waiting for you but then the guys wanted to go take some shots in the bathroom.” steve leans over to kiss your lips but you dodge him. he looks at you with a confused face. “come on let’s go dance.” he offers you his hand, you play with the fork that was covered in strawberry cake. “i’m good, maybe you should go dance with lila instead.” you say. steve sits back down in the chair, he cleared his throat. “you saw that? i didn’t think you’d be mad, it’s not like we’re together or anything.”

you roll your eyes, pushing your plate away from you. you get up and begin walking to the double doors. as you enters the hallways you ignore steve calling your name. “y/n! can you just wait a minute!” he yells, pulling your arm back causing you to hault. “it was just a dance, i was being nice. you can’t just get mad at me like that, i asked you to be my girlfriend more than once and you said no.”

“because all you want from me is sex which is not ready to give to you. you don’t think i hear about you hooking up with girls in the gym closet. i don’t want to be the next dumb girl who becomes a play thing for you.” you snap on him. “oh come on, sex is just sex, why do you make such a bug deal over this?” he groans.

“it’s not just sex steve, i want it to be meaningful and memorable. i’m sorry if i don’t want to hook up in a sleezy hotel.” you yell, your faces were extremely close. “and you think barnes is gonna make it special? god you’re so naive.” you furrow your brows, what did bucky have to do with this situation. “he has nothing to do with this steve! you asked me to come to this dance with you only for you to dance with another girl and make me look dumb sitting there waiting for you. you can’t take your hotel invite and shove it up your ass.” you walk away from steve, this time he didn’t bother calling your name. after he heard you curse at him he knew you guys were not going to work this out

you sit on the stairs of the school, tears slowly slid from your eyes. you felt so stupid and used, you knew steve was right but it still hurt. you two weren’t together and if he wanted to take another girl to the hotel he could because you weren’t together. you cringe at how bucky was right about steve, you wanted to be angry at him but he did warn you.

you decide to head home, walking alone the lonesome streets of brooklynn. you were wet due to the copious amount of rain fall, you shiver once more and continue to walk to your house. you noticed a familiar truck driving beside you. bucky rolls down his window. “get in.” he tells you. you continue walking, deciding to ignore the older boy. “come on doll it’s raining. a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone.” you couldn’t believe he as trying to flirt with you right now. you were hurt by his words and you were standing your ground, well that was until you heard a loud crack of lightning. you quickly rushed into the truck, slamming the door behind you.

before bucky could speak you began to talk. “just because i’m sitting in here with you, doesn’t mean i forgive you.” you seethed. bucky nods at you. “okay.” you angrily slap his arm. “okay? are you serious right now? how about a sorry for being a jerk!” you yell at him. bucky doesn’t acknowledge you, he starts looking for something in his truck. “god! boys are stupid! all you do is crave sex and hurt girls!” you rant, arms crossed over your chest. once you finished your rant you peek over at bucky holding two blunts. “wanna get high?”

you later found yourself in bucky’s room, high as a kite. you didn’t know what effect he had on you but you gave into his temptation. you sat on his bed, letting him shotgun smoke onto your mouth. “god you’re so hot.” bucky kisses your right shoulder. you softly hum in response, he trails his kisses to your exposed neck. you knew this was wrong on so many level but it felt so right.

“kiss me.” you whisper against him. the drugs in your system had your hormones at an all time high, you needed him to touch you. bucky locks his lips with yours, tongue roaming each other’s mouth in such a sensual way. bucky’s hand roams your body, cupping your breasts then your neck. you moan as he applies pressure to your throat.

he slides down you dress straps, with every kiss and touch you felt your dress being pulled lower and lower. bucky lifts you up on his lap, helping you out of the green champagne dress. you were fully exposed to him, his large hands grope your ass. he slaps the soft skin sending your lower half to grind against his tight jeans. bucky groans, pulling you closer to his bottom half. you felt the jean material rub against your clothes clit, your body shakes at the new feeling. “god you have no idea what you do to me princess.” he moans into your neck. his right hand unhooks your bra, you let the bra fall off of you. bucky eyes your bare chest, his blue eyes darken filling with lust.

he pulls your breast into his mouth, twirling his tongue around your swollen nipple. you grip onto his shirt, when moves your ass back and forth on his pants. “p-please bucky.” you whine, your body was aching for him to touch you. “what do you want doll?” you grab his, guiding him to your clothed cunt. you slip his hand under you, allowing his to grope your pussy. your mouth gapes open when bucky slowly rubs your clit back and forth.

when he notices you like the feeling of him touching you, it sends him into a deep lustful trance. he flips you over, bucky’ dog tags dangle over you. he kisses between your breast, trailing down to your stomach then he comes in contact with your laced white panties.

you can feel his breath on your wet core. he inhales you, moaning as if your cunt was the drug he was addicted to. he removed your panties from your body, bucky’s cock hardens once he caught a look at your pussy, your cunt was glistening from how wet it was, it took everything in bucky not to dive right in. “your so wet for me baby, and i haven’t even touched you yet. your pussy is begging for me to devour it.” bucky taunts. he slips one finger in your folds, your back arches at the finger passes your clit.

“bucky…please. i’ll do anything.” you beg. bucky perks an eyebrow at you. “anything?” you nod vigorously. “you’re going to cum for me three times. understand?” you nod your head. bucky licks a stride up your cunt. he moans at the taste of you. bucky wraps his pink lips around your clit, your legs spread wide as you beg for him to devour you. your back arches more, his hands pin your waist down to keep you steady, you screw your eyes shut as he sucks your clit into his mouth softly.

you moan out in pleasure, letting your hands grip his soft brown hair. you tug on his roots, attempting to push him closer to you. bucky pulls away earring a whine from you, he slips his middle finger into your core. at first his movements were slowly, he was preparing before adding his ring finger. you rode his fingers, moaning as he pumped you. you watch as he spits on your core, watching his saliva mix in with your cunt. you felt your stomach tighten, bucky felt your pussy clench around his fingers, imagining you around his cock.

he wastes no time, diving into your pussy. his tongue rapidly worked your clit, his fingers pumping you at a fast pace. your body was overwhelmed by all the stimulation. “bucky!” you scream at the top of your lungs. you were now grinding against his face, he didn’t tease you anymore, now he was on a mission to give you your orgasm. your legs shake, you cry out for bucky, your toes curled and your back arches to its full extent. bucky slows his movements as you come down from your high.

you collapse on his bed, you shiver as you feel bucky remove his hand from your pussy. you try to catch your breath, bucky hovers over you. “who knew my babydoll had that in you.”

[messers-moony]

Serene | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five’s wife has a room in their apartment for her own safe keeping. But Diego’s daughter accidentally reveals her biggest secret.

Her scent was heavenly—a beautiful desired mix of coffee, chocolate, and old books. Waking up beside her was like waking up in a coffee shop during sunrise. Her scent resembled her nature and her personality to a tea.

She was calm, collective, resourceful, and quiet. Much different than he himself. Number Five was just as innovative as her. But he found himself more different than similar. He often acted upon impulse and unable to rest. To his siblings, they were bewildered at how the two of them spent a multitude of years together in an apocalypse.

Nevertheless, opposites attract.

Regardless, she didn’t speak up. Instead, she hid in a corner with a book agreeing with the other person instead of saying her point of view. She hated conflict more than anything. Five, on the other hand, would only make conflict when necessary. He always stood up for himself and his opinions.

It was a communication issue they both had to solve. While in the apocalypse, she didn’t speak for the first month. He was lucky if he even got some form of communication other than a nod or a shake of the head. Eventually, he learned her name was Y/n. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. She looked like her name.

She moved so delicately and smoothly it drove Five crazy. This woman he met was so opposite to him it drove him up the wall. The conflict between the two usually ended up in her quietly leaving the shared apartment and returning later than expected. Which left Five to pull at the tuffs of his brown hair in frustration.

Five overthought everything. This woman was the light of his life, but she couldn’t deal with conflict to save her life, and it made him wonder. Maybe she went through a dark time before the apocalypse. Perhaps the scars on her arms weren’t from accidental burns on the fire. He paced in their main room for hours. It seemed before a knock on the door caught his attention.

The boy opened the door to see his brother, “ Hey, Diego. “

“ Um, hey, Five. “ Regardless of Diego’s nervous greeting, Five gave a reassuring smile, “ Artemis wanted to know if she could stay here for the time being while I’m at work. “

The little girl was Y/n’s pride and joy. The two were so highly similar. Even Artemis found herself cowering at Five sometimes. Five was just a ticking time bomb no one ever knew when it would explode, and it made people nervous. Henceforth Diego was hoping Y/n would answer the door with her soothing nature.

“ Yeah, she can stay here for as long as she wants. “ Five replied softly, looking at the ten-year-old girl, “ Is Y/n here? “ Diego queried.

Five shook his head, “ She went out. I’m sure she’ll be back later. “

“ Alright, well, thank you for taking care of her. “ Diego sighed as Artemis went inside Five’s apartment, “ It’s no problem. “

Diego gave another nervous smile and walked away. The brunet male shut the door and locked it afterward. The little girl never really got along with Five. He didn’t know what to do. Children didn’t mix well with Five, especially an introverted, antisocial ten-year-old girl.

Artemis was gorgeous for her age. Long brown hair that resembled Vanya’s at her age with bangs across her forehead. Striking blue eyes like no other. A pale complexion compared to Diego’s naturally tan one. Her name was almost a contradiction to who she was. This little girl was no independent, strong, brave goddess. Instead, she was intelligent, quiet, and careful.

There was one room in the apartment Y/n didn’t really let anyone into. It was the ‘spare’ bedroom that wasn’t really a bedroom anymore. Five had only been in there a handful of times. It was known as her safe space, so Five respected that. But Artemis seemed to walk right inside. To say it made Five uneasy was an understatement. He didn’t know if she was allowed inside or not.

Five walked into the room and was greeted with bookshelves. It looked much different than the last time he saw it. The room wasn’t huge, maybe the average size of a square bedroom. Black bookshelves covered the walls with a desk sitting in the middle of the room planted on a rug. The only wall space not covered was a window with a tiny navy blue couch placed in front of it.

That’s where Artemis sat with a book in hand; she giggled at her uncle’s lost complexion, “ You haven’t been in here before, have you? “

“ I- I haven’t been in here a lot. “ Five replied in awe of the room, “ Aunt Y/n says she doesn’t let a lot of people in here. “ Artemis’ voice was soft and serene.

“ Yeah, it’s been a couple of months since I’ve been allowed in this room. “ He reminisced, “ Is this where you two talk? “

Artemis nodded, “ We talk a lot in here. This is where she works, and she shows me all her drafts. “

“ She works in here? “ Five queried, completely baffled, “ Mhm! You didn’t know? “ The young girl asked.

“ No, I- I didn’t know. “ He muttered, “ She’s not just an English teacher. She writes books in her spare time. “ Artemis smiled.

“ She does? “ Five spoke, “ Like how Vanya wrote her autobiography? “

“ Kind of. “ Artemis answered, “ She writes fiction novels. “

Five spun around the room, “ Can you show me? “

The young girl didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at Y/n’s desk sitting in the middle of the room. Under the rug laid a key which she picked up. Carefully she unlocked the bottom drawer on the left side of the desk, which held multiple different notebooks full of drafts and notes.

Artemis picked up a navy blue-bound notebook and handed it to him, “ This is her most recent stuff. “

Shocked and astonished at what his wife was hiding from him, he took the navy blue book. He took a spot on the rug sitting next to the open drawer while Artemis went back to reading on the couch. Her handwriting was elegant cursive that she taught herself how to do. The notebook was as messy as Five’s lesson plans for his college students. Nonetheless, he read on.

Life is a journey and full of different surprises. People from all around the world meet in the center for one leading cause. What occurs when tomorrow doesn’t happen? What is indeed on the other side? People tend to believe there’s an afterlife. Others think that it’s game over.

Brooklyn James takes a path into the unknown. A scared adolescent. She takes a brave step to find the answers for everyone. But at what cost? Prophecies advise and warn. People intrigued and fascinated.

When happens when both ends meet?

Five sat on the floor, entranced in her writing. He couldn’t believe his eyes. How has he never seen this before? How was she doing this without him noticing? Eventually, he closed the book and looked inside the drawer. Inside was an envelope with his name on it. Curiosity peaked, he took the envelope and opened it. Inside he found more writings, but all addressed to him. It even went back to the apocalypse.

It’s been about a month now. I was able to find some parchment and ink in an old book store. I can imagine they were selling for the aesthetic of old ways of writing. Thankfully I learned how to write with a quill, or perhaps this note would look like one big black blob. Five seems to be adjusting to me better. I’m scared of him. He’s terrifying.

We’re so different it hurts. He likes to express everything, and I don’t know how to feel about it. My entire life, I’ve been shut down to the point where talking feels like a fruitless effort. Maybe talking to him will help me. But I’m scared. What if he shuts me out as everyone else did.

This is so surreal. We’re stuck in an apocalyptic future—stupid healing powers. I wish I never healed myself sometimes. I didn’t know that after climbing out of my burnt house, this is what the world would look like. Five’s been a great help, though. Sometimes he takes my mind off things. At night he’ll ramble about the constellations, and I like learning about them.

Maybe he thinks I’m asleep or not listening because I don’t talk much, but I’ve learned a lot from him. He makes me want to be a teacher, step out of my comfort zone. I hope he becomes a teacher. He’d be a fantastic math professor.

He continued to read through until a voice made him jump, “ So, you’ve found my locked drawer. “

“ I- I didn’t- I didn’t mean- “ Five suddenly became a stuttering mess, “ I showed him. “ Artemis admitted.

Although Y/n wasn’t mad, Artemis cowered with her head, looking at the floor. Y/n’s voice never held anger, even when she was angry. Her voice was calming, soothing, and laced with honey. It was one of the reasons Five fell so in love with her.

“ Artemis, can you step out to the living room, please? “ She knelt before the girl giving her a tiny smile, “ You aren’t in trouble, my princess. I just want to talk to Five, okay? “

“ I’m- I'm sorry. “ The girl whimpered, and Y/n kissed her cheek gently, “ It’s okay, you aren’t in trouble. I’m not mad. I just need you to sit in the living room for a moment. “ Five stared in wonder at his wife comforting the tiny girl.

The young girl got the message and padded to the living room. Y/n stood up from her spot and stared at her guilty husband. His green eyes looked everywhere except for her e/c ones. He wanted her to yell or be angry with him, but she never was. No matter what, he couldn’t ever make her mad. Her patience were infinite.

“ I suppose you found what I’ve been working on. “ She stated, and Five nodded, “ And you saw my parchment from the apocalypse. “

“ I really didn’t mean to. “ He murmured, and she chuckled, “ You were going to have to find out sooner rather than later. “ Y/n replied.

Without warning, he was embraced. Her arms were wrapped around his torso while her head rested on his heart. The scent of her shampoo reached his nose, a glorious mix of honey and coconut he couldn’t ever get enough of. His arms gently wrapped themselves around her shorter frame while his chin perched on top of her head.

He kissed her hair gently, “ I didn’t mean to snoop. I’m sorry, love. “

“ Well, do you like it? “ She asked, “ Like what? “

“ My drafts, my room, my notes? “ Y/n listed, “ I love it because it’s who you are. “ Five replied softly.

He pulled away to meet her soft e/c eyes, “ This room is who you are as a person. If I had to describe you in one room, it’d be something along these lines. “

“ You aren’t mad I didn’t tell you? “ She whispered, and he shook his head, “ Never. We spent forty-five years together with no privacy because we didn’t have that. When you said you wanted this room to yourself, I didn’t hesitate to agree with you. “ His voice was soft like silk.

His green eyes glittered like gems, “ This is your private room, your safe place, and I shouldn’t be mad at you for wanting privacy. “

She kissed his cheek gratefully, “ Thank you. “

“ Anytime, darling. Anytime. “

[wearywinchester]

Tempers

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, anger flares and feelings come out.

Requested by Anonymous: This is sooo ''let's pretend they're all alive' but I think we all need something nice now, could you do one where reader is bobby's daughter and she's your typical I like makeup, short skirts and heels girl and they're all (reluctantly) working with the ghost facers for a case, dean gets protective around her bc she's bobby's daughter and not at all bc he likes her no no what gave you that idea hehehe

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: little bit of jealousy, injuries, mentions of blood, swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

Hunting with the Winchester’s.

No matter the case, hunting with those two never failed to be interesting. You’d like to think you were a good hunter, in fact you knew you were. You might not have been the best there is but there’s not one hunter out there that hasn’t made a handful of mistakes on the job. It was bound to happen sometime. But you’ve had a pretty good hunter to learn from—your dad.

He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of you hunting, not in the slightest and he tried his hardest to get you to go another direction with your life. But Bobby Singer was as stubborn as they come, so he should’ve expected his daughter to be just the same as himself. With all of the reluctance in the world, he taught you to be the hunter you are today, and that’s something he can feel confident in even though he might not admit it.

Dean hadn’t taken you too seriously the first time you’d accompanied them on a hunt for a vamp nest, treating you as if you were a child despite the mere one year age difference the two of you held. That quickly changed when you saved him from a great deal of danger that night; three vamps against a disarmed Dean surely wouldn’t have gone very well.

That was something you very much held over his head, giving it a good long while before you finally let him live it down save for a few mentions here and there.

Even then Dean was just as protective as he’d been since you were teens nearly ten years ago, you were Bobby’s daughter. That was always his reasoning for insisting you stay close to him on hunts, for losing his temper should the smallest of things happen to you. That was his reasoning for being adamant that you stay back on hunts he deemed too dangerous, trying his hardest to convince Bobby to stick with him on it. Bobby never disagrees with his reasoning, but he also knows you’re too stubborn for your own good.

Dean was the very same way.

The old house looked like something straight out of a movie, the stereotypical haunted house as boards stick haphazardly over broken windows and the grass is far too overgrown. Nearly every corner was littered with spiderwebs, the siding on the house covered in years of neglected dirt and moss. It was only perfectly fitting that it’d be haunted, otherwise that’d be a waste of an abandoned house.

You squinted up at it as you got out of the backseat of the Impala, turning back to look at the long driveway you’d just driven up, lined with old trees on either side before glancing back at the house. Your gaze shifts to Dean as you smooth out your jacket, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowed as you look up at the older Winchester.

“Nothing,” he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a pair of those ridiculously tall heels on. I have to say I’m shocked.”

You roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek as he nudges the toe of your tattered old boots, his smile still remaining as he looks down at you in amusement.

“Well I guess I’m full of surprises then, aren’t I?” You say as you rub your gloss in with a smack of your lips and brush past him to get to catch up to Sam, the smile you’d tried to stifle now tugging at your lips once your back was to him. But he knew it was there just as much as you saw his was when you turned back around to catch his expression.

He chuckled, brows soon furrowing as he shook his head. “Wait—what’s that supposed to mean?”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickened his pace, grumbling to himself about what your words could have meant as his brows furrowed. In a matter of moments you nearly smack into Sam, stopping just in time.

“What is it?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean mutters, and when you look at him that crease between his brows deepens and his jaw tenses, eyes rolling and you follow his gaze to the ever familiar van that sat parked on the other side of the trees. “Looks like the ghostbusters beat us to it.”

Ghostfacers.

You were more than surprised when Dean had caved on working the hunt with them, not without a couple of eye rolls and a few choice words for the pair mumbled not so discreetly under his breath. But all things considered, after what happened the last time, you were surprised he’d gone through with it. Although, Harry and Ed weren’t planning on leaving anyway. They may have been more than just a little intimidated by that ever famous Dean Winchester glare, one that never worked on you, but they weren’t scared enough to back down much to Dean’s dismay.

The more people there were, the better, but that didn’t stop the older Winchester from being protective over you. In fact, you were certain he was even more so.

“Stay with me,” Dean said, his words serious as he put his arm out in front of you, his gaze over at the two less than desired guests and their cameras having been less than pleased. Especially with the way they smiled at you and acted like a couple of fools with a crush.

“What am I five, Dean?” You say, pushing his arm down as you quicken your pace to walk with him rather than behind him.

He narrows his eyes down at you as his lips purse till those dimples appeared that you’ve come to know oh so well, and rarely were they not from discontentment.

“Would you slow down?” He huffs, a smile tugging at your lips.

You sigh, shaking your head in amusement.

You failed to miss the way the back of his hand had brushed over your knuckles as you walked along the shadowed hallway, thick with cobwebs and rubble scattering across the scratched wood floors. You were starting to wonder if the action was a simple accident or if he’d felt the same spark of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his chest as you felt in yours.

It could have been nothing, probably was, but you shook it off when you turned around the corner and tried not to think about it again.

The hunt was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, and it was one spirit against five people. Harry and Ed weren’t the best of help, not really, but it was more than you walked in with and it should have been better. But it wasn’t.

The spirit turned out to be far more vengeful than she let on, and as Dean suspected, it wasn’t a good idea to split up. Not in a house that was three times bigger than it seemed with a more than violent spirit on the loose. It most certainly didn’t help that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the house dark enough to begin with even in daylight, it’s boarded up windows and burnt out lightbulbs working against you.

Had you not been there, Dean would more than readily have split up to cover more ground with the extra set of hands accompanying you this time, it only made sense to do so. But you were. You were there and you were just as stubborn as ever as you stood there in favor of the very idea that was just the opposite of what Dean wanted. What was a good idea to you and one to most was the worst thing he could possibly think of. He didn’t want you to stray far from him for reasons he’d never admit, not to you or himself, instead reasoning with a simple ‘because I said so’.

But that phrase didn’t work on you. It never did.

He knew. From the moment those two barreled down the stairs looking paler than the spirit you were after, holding all the hesitancy in the world in their body language he knew. The apologetic look Sam had given him wasn’t one that helped either, anger quick to spark within him as he closed his eyes for a moment. He should have known better than to believe they’d offer you any form of protection even though he knows you can hold your own. He should have known better than to quit arguing with you on the matter because maybe, just maybe you’d have given in and split up with him instead. Maybe you would still be with the group and not who knows where in this maze of a run down mansion.

It was a mess of maybe’s and what if’s that clouded his every thought.

But he didn’t argue and you were gone. You were swept away by Casper the not so friendly ghost and he was to blame. Bobby would be livid if he knew, he gets that, but Dean himself didn’t know what he’d do if something happened. He could deal with the wrath of Bobby Singer any day but he couldn’t deal with even just the thought of something happening to you and he couldn’t find it in him to grasp just why it was he felt that way. Maybe he could, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“You what?” Dean asked, anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. His question was low and the two words were more than venomous, more than telling of just how angry he’d been. He heard exactly what Ed had told him not thirty seconds before, he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could believe it actually, because it was Ed of all people, but that wasn’t the point.

Ed swallowed thickly and offered a nervous laugh in an attempt to stave off the tension that’d been building the moment they came back to Dean without you, backing up from the green eyed Winchester who’d been staring him down with a narrowed gaze. It wasn’t hard to see that his patience was wearing thin, and he knew he was pushing it the more he stalled. “She—she went ahead! It’s not like we could talk her out of it!”

His fists clenched and relaxed at his sides at the reasoning he just heard, crescent shaped imprints of his nails left behind on his palms in the wake of his increasing anger.

“You let her out of your sight?” He said, far louder than before. He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the dilapidated old wall, the wood creaking under the newfound pressure against it and a cloud of dust forming. He’s more than tense as Dean crinkles his shirt between his fists, knuckles ivory white and jaw clenched tightly. He could see every freckle and every ounce of emotion in Dean’s eyes, that’s how close he was. He could see the angry quiver in his bottom lip and the flare of his nostrils, could feel his breath hitting his face as he stood pinned to the wall and his glasses even fogged up.

“What, you thought you’d play ‘Mr. Tough Guy’, try and protect her? Huh? Cause you sure as hell didn’t do a good job,” Dean grits out frustratedly.

“She said she’d kick my ass if I didn’t let her go ahead!” He splutters, nearly nose to nose with him.

Dean nodded, the smile on his face bitter as he slid his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sweating bullets by that point as he buckled under the pressure of Dean’s distress. He let out a noise when he shook him slightly and he knows that’s not the answer Dean needs to hear right now. “We were on the second floor when a door slammed around the corner!”

“Actually, they all closed so it’s kinda hard to tell which one,” Harry chimed in, growing timid the more he spoke as he stepped closer to Sam as some form of protection. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously when Dean’s stare fell on him.

“Dean, we’ll find her, okay? Right now we’re just wasting time,” Sam says, noting Ed was two seconds from fainting from the anger radiating off the older Winchester.

Dean pushed him back once more before releasing his grip on his shirt, wrinkled and disheveled from the tightness of his fists. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that this was about more than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter. It was about more than just his annoyance with anything and everything that has to do with Ghostfacers. It was you.

He was angry, livid, as he snagged the flashlight from the table, storming off on his own. Not without his anger getting the better of him, a nearby chair taking the brunt of his frustration as it hits the wall. He remembers just what happened the last time he got stuck working a hunt with them, and he tried his hardest not to think about it.

Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck locked in a room you knew you weren’t in before you were taken. A room you didn’t even know existed in this house to begin with. For being a run down old building, the flimsy doors were stronger than they looked, but you suppose the powers of the supernatural didn’t really care about things like that.

Your knuckles were an angry shade of red, fists sore and throbbing from having pounded them against the door for the better part of what had to be ten minutes in an attempt to escape or at least grab someone’s attention. You were tired as you slumped back against the wall, tucked within the sparse circle of salt you managed to make. Your phone was dead and your flashlight was gone, your energy seemingly just as drained as everything else.

You could feel the I told you so’s coming from Dean, you knew they’d be there ready and waiting if you get out of this. It’s not like it had been completely undeserved, but you didn’t want to hear it. You knew you more than likely looked worse for wear as you sat within that circle, knew by the way you saw smears of crimson on your fingers when you wiped your cheek. It was no secret that you messed up big time with this one, you’d admit that, but admitting it to yourself didn’t help you in that moment and you certainly wouldn’t say it to Dean.

You found there were a lot of things you were hesitant on admitting to Dean, and in the current moment you weren’t so sure if you’d have the chance to bring any of them to light. Maybe it was for the best anyway, could save yourself the embarrassment of having feelings for the older Winchester in the first place. Though you can’t tell what was scarier, the thought of his inevitable discontent with you and your hunting capabilities should you make it out alive, or the very real possibility that you wouldn’t make it out alive.

Yeah, you definitely couldn’t decide that one.

You weren’t sure how or when you found yourself pining over green eyes; the two of you bickered more often than not each and every time you saw one another. If it wasn’t over the smell of your perfume filling up the Impala, it was the way his cologne hung on you after he gave you a hug just to make that happen, just to ruffle your hair after you’d just done it. It was the softer smiles you shared with each other without even realizing it.

But it didn’t really matter, not now it didn’t.

You were caught up with the sting of embarrassment coursing through you from having gotten lost in the first place—you were so adamant that you could do it on your own. It happens to Sam all the time, it happens to Dean all the time, but you couldn’t stop the heat burning in your cheeks or the frustration building in your stomach.

You didn’t know how much time had passed nor did you have a second to think on it before she appeared in front of you in a matter of seconds. The look on her face had you sitting a little straighter, back pressing to the wall behind you as you eyed the pitiful salt ring around you. She laughed tauntingly and you were beginning to think even that wouldn’t protect you, you knew it wouldn’t judging by the way each and every granule began to sift away and break apart it’s protective ring.

You swallow thickly as your eyes widened, both your gaze and hers shifting to the door briefly as it rattled. “Y/n?”

Your breath hitched, only the smallest bit of relief washing over you as her attention returned to you almost immediately. “Dean!”

She didn’t seem to mind his attempts at busting the door down, nor the axe that split through the wood. She knew full well she could send him across the room with a simple twitch of her finger should he break through, watching as you scramble to your feet.

In a matter of seconds she’d appeared mere inches from you, her hand grabbing your face, cold and unforgiving. You didn’t know just what it was she’d been doing, but you were more than aware of the pain beginning to lance through you the moment she touched your skin.

It was near unbearable, a sharp burn radiating through you as a pressure squeezed in on you, intense and unwavering. You were quite sure you’d never felt something so intensely, the feeling nearly taking your breath away. Of all the hunts you’d been on, of all the injuries you walked away with, they’ve got nothing on this.

One thing she didn’t count on was the handful of salt you gathered in your palm, too caught up in your demise to see you’d snagged it from the protective ring she broke. You pressed your hand to her wrist and watched her face twist and contort in discomfort, the action searing her arm where you’d touched it and releasing her grip on you in an instant as if you were venomous.

She pushed you to the wall in retaliation with a simple move of her hand, and if you thought she’d been angry now, you surely were mistaken. You groaned as the fragile old wall behind you cracked and crumbled around you, slumping on the ground once more in exhaustion. You caught sight of Dean’s face as the door began to give way, livid yet holding something you couldn’t quite place as your heart hammered in your chest.

But luck seemed to be on your side just this once, fear flashing across her face as she stood mere inches from you. Her yelp was shrill as she stumbled backwards, having burned up in a blaze of misery and screams. Your chest heaved as your shoulders slumped in relief, the heat of her disappearance having fanned over you and the door breaking loose in a heap of shards and splinters.

The pain she’d caused had begun to ebb away and subside, leaving the ache to remain and the fatigue you felt to rest heavier in your body as you stood to your feet with a bit of unbalance.

Dean had crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, the axe clattering to the floor as his hand settled on your cheek. You looked miserable, mascara smudged and a frown on your busted lip.

“You okay?” He asked, the furrow deep between his brows.

“Do not say ‘I told you so’,” you grumble, half humorous as you look up at him.

His lips purse, his thumb swiping over the cut running along your cheek that he was less than pleased about. Any other time he might’ve laughed, but not this time. The worried crease between his brows and the way his lips pointed downward at the corners had been telling enough that he wasn’t happy with the predicament you’d gotten yourself into, that he was the complete opposite of thrilled at the close call that had his heart pounding and his stress in overdrive. But right now he was relieved. You were here and you were okay, attitude and all.

Sam was first to rush in, Harry next and Ed hot on his heels as they stepped over the rubble and splinters of the broken door.

Ed’s own relief washed over him, happy to not be on the receiving end of an angry Dean Winchester’s punch. “You found her—”

“Shut it.”

It’d been quiet the whole car ride home, no music on the radio, no conversation, no quick witted jokes or typical conversation. It was quiet and it was tense, near uncomfortable as Sam was stuck in the tension between two people he knows have something brewing between them. But he said nothing, pretending he didn’t see the way his brother’s gaze flickers to the rear view every other minute to see if you’re okay, his jaw tense and his grip on the wheel nearly too tight.

Bobby wasn’t thrilled to see the way that spirit roughed you up, more than a few choice words thrown Dean’s way with anger in his tone. He expected that much, having braced for it the whole ride back. He didn’t argue, didn’t do much more than nod and clench his jaw, and he didn’t say just how it was that it happened in the first place either.

Now you were wandering through your dad’s house, quiet unlike it had been just two hours earlier. Your dad and Sam had both been asleep, the early hours of dawn beginning to roll around as dawn approached. You knew better than to believe Dean would be sleeping too, your thoughts confirmed when the door to the bedroom he’d been crashing in was still open, bed empty and still untouched from when he’d haphazardly made it the morning before.

You sighed when you saw him, sitting by himself on the back porch swing and the moment you stepped outside you saw the half-drunk bottle of beer in his hand. His gaze lifted to you when he heard the creak of the door, averting his stare moments later.

“It’s late, sweetheart. Go to bed.”

“Then why aren’t you in bed?”

“Not tired,” he says, tipping his bottle against his lips as he takes another sip of his beer.

You huff out a soft sigh, arms crossing over your chest. That’s when he looks at you again, the dimness of the porch light having illuminated the jagged scratch on your cheek, freshly cleaned as well as the mascara that smudged under your eyes earlier. The tension in his jaw had yet to go away, obvious as ever.

“Are you going to be mad at me forever then?”

“‘M not mad anymore,” he says, and you knew for a fact that’d been a lie.

“You’re not that good a liar, Dean,” you say, watching him set his drink down and stand to his feet, leaning his weight on the wooden railing. “I had it handled, you know,” you say, watching his expression sour at your words.

You heard his scoff as you brushed past him, a sigh leaving your lips because you knew he’d react just the way he’d been acting. You were right with him, you were always right.

“Had it handled, my ass,” he said, quick to follow after you. “I told you not to do that.”

“Yeah, well I did it,” you said, and he turned in front of you and spun around, keeping you from walking any further.

“Would you quit it with the tough guy act? You’re hurt and you damn well know it, I know it. Hell, anyone can see that. So do yourself a favor and stop pretending like you had everything under control because I know you better than to believe that.”

Your brows furrow as you look up at him with a squinted gaze, watching as his chest rises and falls, at the way there was something more than anger pooling in his eyes as he looked at you. You’ve never seen him quite this upset over you before, not really, never seen him look at you that way before. He was angry, sure he was, but it was different.

He wasn’t wrong, you were hurting, it’s not everyday you’re on the receiving end of a vengeful spirits’ wrath. You went off on your own when you shouldn’t have been so bold and daring. But you were here. You were here and you were okay and you knew you were bound to do it again on another case. It was what being a hunter is about. You didn’t get this far by sitting back and letting the monsters out there come to you, you had to go out and look for them and if you got a few bumps and bruises then so be it.

“Why are you so mad, Dean?” You ask, watching his eyes roll. “You go out and do the same reckless things on a hunt, you’ve come out on the other side way worse than I did. But since it’s me, suddenly it’s a problem.”

“Exactly, it’s because it’s you!” He repeats, frustrated as ever as he throws his hands up. “And yeah I’m mad. I’m freakin’ pissed. You come in here thinking you’re invincible and you’re not Y/n. I’m mad because…” he paused, letting out a breath as he rubbed his face, hands running through his hair.

He looked at you then, expression softening as he calmed down a fraction. “Forget it.”

“No, not forget it,” you say, grabbing his wrist as he starts to walk away. His jaw was clenched as he looked down at you, swallowing thickly as the heaving of his chest slowed and his grip on the doorknob was tighter than ever.

This was the first time since you’d gotten back that he’d looked in your eyes for longer than a mere second or two. You knew he was on the brink of storming off to sulk in his own anger and guilt because that’s what he always did. You knew there was something more to it than just what he’d told you. He’d like to think that you’d believe that he wasn’t angry anymore, that he was over it. But Sam told you what happened back there, how upset he got with Ed and just how worried he’d been. It was growing increasingly obvious that there was more to it than that.

It was then that you noticed you’d still been holding onto his wrist and he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t make a move to.

You tilted your head to the side when you mulled things over, and that was when the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t do that thing where you try and ‘read’ me,” he says, quoting the word.

“You were scared,” you said, smile widening a bit and he huffs, pulling his arm from your loose grip. You hit the nail right on the head.

“I was just doing what Bobby asked me to do,” he says, adamant that that was his reason for being as upset as he was. Definitely not over the feelings bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, just waiting to go ahead and boil over.

“No, you were scared, De,” you say as he starts to turn away from you in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to show. “You were scared that I got lost.”

You always did that. You always took his anger and made it something else entirely and he’d try his hardest to keep that wall up. He was mad at you, mad at you for putting yourself in the same kind of danger he allows himself to be in with every hunt he does. But if you keep poking and prodding him and calling him out on his true feelings with that smile that makes him weak in the knees he does know how long he’ll last.

“You got this all wrong, sweetheart.”

“Sam told me what happened with Ed back there.”

His expression changed, softened a bit before he played it off with that familiar smirk. “Yeah, Ed’s an idiot and he pushed my buttons.”

You nodded then, your smile more than telling that you didn’t believe a word he said. You heaved a sigh, a bit of disappointment burning in your chest at his words. Because maybe you did have it all wrong, maybe his stubborn reluctance to be honest was just him telling the truth. Maybe he was just doing what your dad asked him to do. Being protective was in his nature, you knew that for a fact.

You brushed past him on the porch and headed to the door, the chirping of the early morning birds sounding and giving you enough of a reminder that maybe you should go to bed. That maybe you’ll feel better with a few hours of sleep. That maybe they would be gone, Dean would be gone by the time you woke up and you wouldn’t have to face the fluttery feeling and the ache in your heart until the next time you see him.

You spin on your heel to find him already looking, your smile soft. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Without so much as a reply you twist the old brass doorknob, pushing the back door open before his hand grips your wrist. You turned back to look at him, brows furrowed as you gazed up at him. He swallows thickly as he looks at you, lips parting to speak but the very words he’d been thinking of so vividly were stuck on the top of his tongue.

His hand loosens around your wrist and the tips of his fingers slide down to your hand to envelope yours, calloused and warm and hesitant. He takes all but a few seconds of your curious gaze, of the questions sitting on your tongue before he dips down and presses his lips on yours. It’s soft, featherlight almost as he pulls away just as quickly.

He doesn’t stray too far, his nose brushing against yours as he swallows nervously, but the sight of your smile put him at ease. Had him kissing you with just a little more vigor as his hand drops yours in favor of pressing to your cheek, your own having settled in his arm. Your smiles mingle and press into each other, the kiss soft and languid as your cheeks burned under his touch.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You murmur, and the way he hummed softly, the way he stole another kiss in favor of admitting you were was telling enough.

He pulls back to look at you, his lips kiss swollen and pink as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. His eyes bounce between yours and down to your lips, looking at you once more before he kisses you again. The anger he held is quick to melt when you look at him the way you do and he hates it, he loves it but he hates it because he really should be mad. You nearly got yourself killed and here he was weak in the knees and he knows you’ll be just as brave on the next hunt. He knows you’ll do just the same thing.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me,” he mumbles, smiling against your lips.

“Probably,” you say with a grin, his quiet laughter immediate as he pulls you closer.

But you were right. There was more to it than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter, there always was. As stubborn as Dean Winchester could be, you knew him better than that, and he knew you better than to believe you won’t make his heart race and his worry spike on every hunt after that. It’s just in your nature to be braver than ever.

But he’ll protect you each and every time.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •2•

Hi hi! I'm back with another chapter. This one might not be as good(?, it's a really fluffy chapter so bear with me.

warnings: sugar daddy jae, he's a big baby, tooth rotting, kinda long.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato

“Sir, there’s a girl asking to see you.”

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Let her in.”

Only a few seconds later, your head was peeking through his door.

“I brought you coffee.” You extended your hand out, showing him the carton containing two iced drinks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, come in.” You sat on the elegant, individual sofa in front of him, his desk serving as a separation. “Are you here to spy on me? Don't you trust me with your father's case?” He pouted, typing something in his keyboard while your palms started sweating.

How could you not trust the man with the highest case winning index in the whole country?

Briefly, after your encounter with the other lawyer, you'd googled him as well as his company. Because of his incredibly high fees, he didn't have many clients, but those few who had enough money to cost him were almost assured to be on the winning side. So then, why hadn't an excellent lawyer like him popped up when you'd first looked for popular firms? Simple, he wasn't popular.

Just like a hidden gem, only a few had the pleasure to know Yoonoh, and you felt beyond grateful for paying that stupid membership weeks ago.

“No, no!” You were quick to defend yourself, frantically shaking your hands to support your previous statement. “Just wanted to be of help.”

Truth to be told, after receiving your first weekly allowance, an unsettling feeling had been squeezing your heart ever since. Call it guilt or whatever, but it didn't set right to be receiving si much help from him when you hadn't had the chance to do anything in return. The least you could do was trying to be polite.

“You shouldn't be spending your money on me. I'm the one supposed to spoil you, remember?” He grabbed the plastic container by the lid, sipping the bitter liquid with an amused smile. “But thank you.”

“I paid my rent yesterday.” You blurted out, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence threatening to settle between the two of you. “And I still have money left to save for my father's hospital bills, maybe even buy a present for my aunt.”

He admired how noble you were, making sure those around you had enough before even thinking to do something for yourself.

“I have a party this Friday, would you like to attend with me?” Your presence wasn't required as it wasn't a big event, but by the look in your eyes, he knew you were itching to do something in return for his kindness.

“Yes, of course!” Your orbs sparkled with excitement, finally feeling yourself useful.

“If you don't mind waiting, we can go buy something for you to wear right after I finish with this.” For what seemed like the tenth time in less than ten minutes, small beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. Thank God he wasn't able to see them. “Oh, come on, don't give me that look!”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can buy the clothes myself, don't worry.” With a deep sigh, Yoonoh rose from his chair, taking long strides to surround the desk separating you. “W-what are you doing?” Now kneeling on the floor beneath you, his face was dangerously close to yours, coffee breath crashing against your nose.

“Using mind control to convince you to let me take you out.” He stared at you for a couple more seconds before saying: “Is it working?”

“I think your mind control is broken.” You whisper, unable to hold back the small giggles bubbling at the back of your throat.

“How about now?” He batted his eyelashes, trying to act cute despite his bold features. You shook your head.

Just as you thought it was over, his hand went up to cup your jaw, his thumb drawing uneven figures on the ticklish skin.

“How about now?” He repeated. You stammered, unsure of what to say. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” Aware of your awkwardness and the rising heat in your cheeks, he stood up, walking back to his chair. “But I do want to get you something, would you let me?”

With your mind busy and your guard low, you nodded, unaware of the silly smile on his face.

“I have a few novels on my shelf in case you want something to kill time.”

“Thank you.” You moved to the huge bookshelf facing his desk, grateful your face wasn't visible anymore.

The books were ordered by genre and size, starting from the biggest law-related textbooks to pocket-sized novels, ending with the smallest one he had. The little prince.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Yoonoh didn't seem to be the type to read that kind of heartbreaking yet beautiful book. Nonetheless, as many said, you can't judge a book by its cover.

An hour or two later, you were halfway into the first book of flowers in the attic, immersed in the small world the author had created. Yoonoh had finished his work a few minutes before, but distracting you when you were reading so vividly, seemed like a crime. He enjoyed the way your eyebrows would knit together every time something shocking happened, clearly too immersed in the novel to notice his intense gaze.

“Y/n...” He whispered once he noticed you were starting a new chapter. You blinked twice, hands clutching the book tightly as you noticed he had finished his work. “You can take it home, don't worry.”

“Sure?” He flashed his pretty dimples as his eyes turned into half-moons.

“You can come back for the rest of the saga when you finish this one. Take as many books as you please, I’ve already read them all.”

“Thank you.” Another act of kindness you had no way of returning. His favors just seemed to be piling up before you could even return any. “Would you like to have dinner with me today? I'm a great cook, or so did my father said.” You blurted out quickly, twisting your hands nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I’d love to. But I might have to attend some work calls if you don't mind.”

“I don't, maybe I'll even have time to bake a cake while you're at it.” God, how bad he wanted to take a picture of that adorably nervous smile.

“Great, so it's settled. Dinner at your place after we go shopping.” He had already put his blazer on, offering his arm to guide you out. With shaky fingers and sweaty armpits, you grabbed it, walking by his side with his secretary’s gazed glued on you. So much for a girl, huh?

Once seated in his car, with the book resting on your lap, you allowed yourself to relax. Yoonoh wasn't a bad person, on the contrary, he was very kind, so there was no use in keeping your guard up when he was around.

“Ready to roll?” You cringed at his use of slang, making him drop his head back to laugh. “What? Isn't it a thing you cool young adults say?”

“Maybe twenty years ago, Yoonoh.” It was the very first time you used his name so informally, and, oh how good it felt to hear you saying it?

“Fine, I won't use it anymore.” He poked your arm like a little child, and for a moment, you wondered if he was actually more than a decade older.

Several bad jokes, two dresses, and a quick stop at the grocery store later, you arrived at your apartment. Yoonoh held everything while you entered the passcode, struggling not to drop a can of vegetables that was starting to bend the edge of the paper bag.

“Ready, hand me something.” You both entered with your hands packed with different things. You went to your room to leave the new dresses while Yoonoh set the paper bags down on the kitchen counter.

“So...” He clapped loudly. “What are we cooking?”

“I bought the ingredients for lasagna. Is that okay with you?” He nodded, lips pressed and dimples in display. “Alright, let's do this.”

It would've been of great help if Yoonoh had told you he didn't know how to cook. But of course, part of the fault was yours for not noticing when he tried to add ketchup to the recipe.

“I burnt it.” He looked at the semi-carbonized pasta with disgust, feeling ashamed of having ruined your dish. “Let’s just throw it away and order something.” He was about to touch the hot container until your grip on his wrist halted his movements.

“We just pulled it out of the oven.” You shook your head in disbelief at the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry.”

Despite Yoonoh’s endless complaining, you ate the lasagna. The flavor wasn't that bad when you scratched off the burnt parts, especially when accompanied by a cold glass of wine.

“It’s not that bad.” You repeated over and over again. A phone call interrupted him from self-pitying any further. “Go on, take it.” You continued eating while he spoke in the living room.

It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that you realized he was whisper yelling at whoever was on the other line. It was your first time seeing him angry, and you didn't like it one bit. The way his face turned completely stoic, his eyes cold as his hand rested on his hip. Sweet, caring, Yoonoh was gone.

“I told you I needed it for today.” He said through gritted teeth. “You better get it before I arrive back at the office, or you can find yourself another job.” Even after he hung up, Yoonoh stood in the middle of the shared area, clutching his phone so tightly, it seemed like it would break any minute.

You wanted to ask if everything was alright, if he needed any help, but most importantly, if the things he needed were related to your father's case, but all the words stuck to your throat like insects in a spider web.

“I need to go.” He simply said, not even bothering to fake a smile. “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you on Friday.” With his free hand, he grabbed the coat hanging from his chair and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Was that the real Yoonoh?

A shiver ran down your spine. What had you gotten into? From what you'd seen, it was only about time he would show his true self to you as well.

All the trust you'd built up during the day, had crumbled down in a matter of seconds. The worst part? You didn't even feel entitled to be scared, not after all he'd done for you.

‘Just keep your distance.’ You repeated like a mantra as you got ready for bed, leaving the book you'd borrowed right where he'd left it, afraid it would burn your fingertips even with the slightest touch.

(...)

The week wasn't nearly as long as you'd wanted it to be, and soon enough, you were struggling to zip the dress you'd bought days ago. Your makeup was done, and Yoonoh had texted you he was on his way, yet, you'd been fighting with the zipper for at least ten minutes. Your fingers were cramping, and the clock was ticking.

Just when you'd finally started to drag the small piece of metal, the doorbell startled you, causing you to let go of it.

“Fuck!” Have you ever felt so desperate that tears start pricking your eyes? Well, that was the exact case happening at the moment.

You opened the door with the salty water collecting at the corner of your eyes, surprising Yoonoh, who was wearing his best dimply smile.

“What’s wrong?” He had a bouquet poorly hidden behind his back, probably to apologize for the night he abruptly left and almost knocked down your door.

“I-I can't zip up my dress.” Your voice came out shaky, giving away the emotions burning your gut. Thankfully, Yoonoh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't mention it.

“I’ll help you.” He, not-so-discretely, put down the bouquet, gently turning you around to your discomfort. His cold hands touched your back as he dragged the zip up, noticing how tense you were but deciding not to comment on it. “Oh! You haven't moved the book from where I left it.”

“I haven't had time to read.” He hummed, crouching to reach for the bouquet and hand it to you. “Thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing for the fit I threw a couple of days ago.” A fit? That was one way to call it.

“It’s okay.” You lied as you pushed the corners of your lips to form a credible smile. “Let’s get going.”

The flowers were left on the kitchen counter before you left. The ride in the elevator was awfully quiet, and Yoonoh had no idea what had happened. You were so chatty the last time he saw you, so of course, he was taken aback by the sudden change.

“It’s not going to take long, so we can head out for some drinks later if you'd like...” You nodded, for you knew speaking would only expose your discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just nervous about the party, that's all.”

You stood by Yoonoh’s side for the rest of the evening, smiling and nodding at his acquaintances’ comments. At one point in the evening, a man, not much older than you, approached you both with a wide smile.

“Dude, I hadn't seen you in ages. Stop sending your workers and come see me yourself.” They hugged. Why were they hugging?

“Y/n, this is my brother, Sungchan.” The man with puppy-like eyes embraced you tightly, almost as if welcoming you to his family. “Sungchan, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” He said it so naturally, it’d take a detective to figure out the truth about your relationship.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I'm sorry for your father. But don't worry, we'll take those bastards down.”

“I’m not following...” You blinked repeatedly, eyes going back and forth between Yoonoh and his brother.

“Sungchan is a doctor. I asked him to look at your father's case for further evidence. My assistant was supposed to pick up the report the day we had dinner, but she forgot to drop by. Now we’re a day behind schedule.” The dark cloud surrounding him seemed to be slowly dissipating as you heard his explanation. “This is an important case, and I want to be as meticulous as possible.”

Thank you didn't seem the right thing to say at the moment, at least not with Sungchan standing there, so you simply grabbed his hand, squeezing it to let him know how grateful you were.

To your surprise, he didn't even flinch as he locked your hands together, causing a small giggle from Sungchan.

“Okay, love birds, I'll get going.” He waved you goodbye, making his way to another table where his friend waited for him.

“Can we talk?” You whispered in his ear, afraid one of the numerous attendants would hear you.

“Sure.” Without letting go of your hand, he drove you to a small, private garden just outside the ballroom. “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?” His thumb caressed your knuckles with gentle strokes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I pushed you away at the minimum trouble when you were only helping me.” He hummed as if he already knew about it. “And it will probably happen again, so please, be patient with me. I'm going through-” Your face collided against his chest as his arms draped over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly.

“Call me reckless, but I've wanted to do this for a while.” Your hands hung at the sides of your torso, unsure what to do next. “You can push me away, I'll understand...”

Instead, your palm found its place in his back, rubbing up and down the designer jacket. Your hair started turning messy from the night breeze, some strands striking Yoonoh’s chin as his embrace only grew tighter.

“Let’s get out of here.” He mumbled, crawling the back of your head with his hand. “Sungchan can deal with my father's friends.”

“Are you sure?” His hum vibrated through his chest, making you giggle at the odd feeling.

Once seated in his car, his hand found yours like a magnet, the warmth emanating from it comfortably enveloping your skin.

The calmness of the atmosphere was interrupted by a call from his brother, who seemed to be anxiously explaining something through the phone.

“Just tell him I had a work emergency.” With that said, he hung up, placing his hand back again on top of yours. “Sorry, he said it was urgent.”

“It’s okay.” An unsettling feeling pinched your stomach, but you decided to dismiss it, immersed in the chilly weather of the dark streets.

You arrived at the river, where Yoonoh asked you to wait for him while he bought a couple of beers. It was a sight to see, both of you clad in fancy clothes, barefoot and chugging down can after can.

“I think I like being with you.” You declared, mind fuzzy from the alcohol intake.

“I think I like it too.” The tips of his ears were rosy, revealing he was as intoxicated as you, maybe even more.

“Would you like to visit my father with me tomorrow?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even realize. Afraid you'd killed the mood, you tried to excuse yourself, only to be interrupted by his lips grazing your ear, placing a timid kiss on your lobe.

“I’d love to.” It was the sweetest peck, no ulterior motives behind it, just pure affection.

“Are we going too fast?” In your drunken state, what you had felt like a real relationship, not a simple agreement. And this sure felt like a first date.

“We’re moving at our own pace, I believe.” He dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing against it to relieve the dizziness clouding his mind. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you don't want to be with an old creep like me, and I'd totally get it. Just don't let me get my hopes up if that's the case.”

“You might be old, but definitely not a creep.” Your fingers combed through his abundant hair as your mind wandered into the future, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't become bald soon. “Or are you?”

“I don't think so.” Anyone who walked by would've seen a couple of goofs, too intoxicated to talk without slurring the words, but you were living in your own, comfy bubble. “I should get you home before it gets too late. Come on, I'll call a driver.” He tried getting on his feet to no avail, stumbling back a little before falling back on his ass.

“My apartment is nearby. You can stay for the night.” You grabbed both pairs of shoes as his arm surrounded your shoulder for assistance. “If you keep supporting your whole weight on me, we're both gonna fall.” People on the street shot you a couple of funny looks, which was understandable since it wasn't usual to see two drunk idiots walking barefoot in the middle of the night.

“How long till-” Hiccup. “-we get there?” His stare seemed to worsen with every step. “God, I think I might throw up.”

“Stop acting like a teenager, we're almost there.”

As soon as you arrived at the small apartment, you sat him down on the little step where you changed your shoes. You left both pairs on the rack, proceeding to put on slippers to enter the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” He whined, stomping his feet like a little kid.

“Just wait for a second!” His attitude was starting to get on your nerves to the point where you couldn't feel the effects of the beer anymore.

You grabbed a rag from the kitchen cabinet and dampened it under the sink. Yoonoh was half asleep when you walked back to him.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled as you sat in front of him, placing his left foot on your lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have any slippers that will fit you, and I don't want your dirty feet making my house dirty.” With utmost delicacy, you wiped away the dirt from his toes, noticing the small scratches caused by the gravel he walked on.

He touched your hair while you finished with his other foot, tangling the strands with fascination.

“Done, get up.”

He followed your indications as you guided him to your room, where you laid him down on his side in case he threw up.

“Are we visiting your father tomorrow?” He asked while snuggling under the covers.

“Sure.” You cleared his forehead from the strands falling in it, grazing the soft skin of his forehead. “Sweet dreams, gigantic baby.”

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Christmas cookies

Word count: 2104

Genre: bit of angst but 90% fluffy

Pairing: Natasha x gn!reader

Warnings: none (let me know if I need to add any)

Request: Maybe just really fluffy Christmas cookie making with Natasha (smearing flour on each other's faces, and that sort of thing)? ❤️❤️

Summary: Natasha tries to make cookies but it doesn't work out so you decide to help her and there is a food fight along the way.

A/n: Merry Christmas everyone (if you celebrate)!!! I hope you all like this because it's the first time I've posted in awhile so I'm a bit rusty. Thank you to the amazing @thewidowsghost for requesting this fic and I hope it meets you expectations! Also although this is Christmas themed because they are baking Christmas cookies and there are a couple references to what they are doing for Christmas the overall fic doesn't focus that much on Christmas so I think you could read it even if you don't celebrate and still enjoy. Also please remember that I'm no longer doing a taglist so if you want to know when I post a fic you can follow @procrastinatingsapphictaglist and turn on notification (only if you want). Anyways I hope you guys like it!

The first thing you notice as you wake up is that something is burning. Groaning at the fact that you can’t just lie in for a few minutes you rub at your eyes, getting up to investigate. You slip your feet into the cosy slippers Natasha had gotten you for your last birthday and pad out of the bedroom and across the small apartment you share with Nat and into the kitchen. The smell only gets worse the closer you get and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from gagging.

You audibly gasp as soon as you take in how much of a mess the kitchen is in. You honestly didn’t even think it was possible to make such a mess until now. There are multiple batches of what looks to be cookies but they are so badly burnt you can’t even be sure. There is some sort of runny batter dripping out of an overturned bowl, down the cupboard doors and onto the floor. There is frosting in a smaller bowl and also in a frosting bag. Unfortunately the frosting also seems to be on the fridge and oven handles and all over the sink. And perhaps the funniest and most disturbing sight of all is your girlfriend who is so covered in flour you can barely tell her hair is red underneath all the white dust.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Natasha whirls around having not noticed you enter until you spoke up. Even after you ask her your eyes continue to dart around finding more and more messes. Egg shells cracked on the counter, sugar all over the floor with faint footprints in it and cooking oil spilling from a shelf.

“I’m making cookies.”

You laugh. “Really? Because I thought you were making a mess.”

“I’m trying my best.” she says defensively. “They were supposed to be for Christmas. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Tasha-” you start softly but she interrupts you.

“Forget it. I’m sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up but I need to shower first. You can go back to bed if you want, I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nat…” you try to start again but she brushes past you and marches straight for the bathroom, her shoulders tight. In that moment your words fail you and you hate that. You never meant to make Natasha feel upset, especially when the mess isn’t even a big deal and she was trying to do something for you. You should have known better than to laugh at her, knowing that she sees failing as weakness. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so quick to run away from a minor upset but it’s something she’s been working on and you know she reacts like this when upset so you should be better at dealing with it.

Deciding there is nothing you can do about it right now with her in the shower you move on to the next problem which is the mess in the kitchen. Cleaning it up for her is the least you can do after upsetting her like that. And even with a huge mess it’s not like it will be that hard to clean anyways. Usually you hate the fact that the kitchen is tiny but it’s times like these where it really is a blessing in disguise.

You start with the sink and make quick work of the dirty dishes, washing them, drying them and then putting them away. You put the eggs and the failed batter in the compost then wipe down all the handles and surfaces. You then sweep the floor and put away all the unnecessary ingredients (you aren’t sure what recipe Natasha followed but it sure isn’t one you’ve seen before). You make sure to leave out all the regular ingredients like flour and sugar and you finish just in time as you hear the shower turn off and see Natasha walk into the bedroom wearing a towel. You wait in the living room for a minute as she gets dressed and also to see if she’ll come out on her own before you call her. She doesn’t.

“Nat? Can you come out?”

She doesn’t answer you but appears anyway which you hope is a good sign. However her face is perfectly neutral, not betraying an ounce of emotion, something you know she only does when she’s uncomfortable and you wish you were better with words because now you have no idea what to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.” she says quickly, her response perfectly crafted but not showing anything genuine.

“Nat.”

“Y/n, seriously it’s okay.” She fakes a smile. “Now rest while I clean the kitchen.”

“I’ve already cleaned the kitchen.”

You can see the flip in how her smile changes from fake to hesitant and you know you’re making progress. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve already cleaned the kitchen.” you say. “Because I wanted to apologise and also because I wanted to help you make another batch of cookies.”

“I already told you you have nothing to be sorry for so you don’t have to feel obligated to help.”

“No Tasha, I need you to understand that I should be sorry. It was an accident but I made you feel bad and you didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to help because I feel obligated. I want to help because I love you and I love spending time with you and I know that you find it frustrating to not be good at things so I want to help you learn.”

She moves so quickly you can barely see her move at all before you feel her arms around your waist and her head resting against your chest. You bury one hand in her hair, pulling her closer to you and run the other up and down her back in a comforting motion, treasuring the affection.

“I love you too. But fuck you for making me all emotional.”

“How horrible it is to have feelings.” you agree sarcastically. She reluctantly pulls back from the hug and you don't comment on how she swipes at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m glad someone understands. Now you promised to teach me?”

“Yes! But you need to get the recipe book for me because I didn’t see it while I was cleaning up earlier.”

“You’re supposed to use a recipe book???”

—

With Natasha’s newfound knowledge that cooking is not like baking and does require an exact recipe it isn’t as hard to teach her as you’d worried it might be. Working together you practically breeze through all the steps with you reading them outloud and mixing together the dough and Natasha measuring and scooping the ingredients. Every time Natasha has to measure something she spends a little extra time making sure it’s exact, holding the cup up next to her eye and carefully adjusting as necessary. When you told her that the measurements had to be exact or it wouldn’t work you didn’t mean that exact but she looks so cute doing it that you don’t bother correcting her.

After the dough is ready it’s time for the best part of rolling it out and using the cookie cutters you found at the back of the cupboard on top of the fridge. You didn’t even know you had Christmas themed ones but you managed to find a tree, santa, reindeer and a snowman. Soon enough you’ve used all the dough possible and are sliding the first batch into the oven at a normal heat. You were alarmed when Natasha commented that she had preheated the oven to 75 degrees above what she was supposed to.

You get into a rhythm of checking on the cookies, pulling them out when ready and putting a new batch in. While they are cooking and cooling you work on making some icing, dividing it up, colouring it and then putting it into ziplock bags that you cut holes in to use as piping bags.

The first batch that you try to ice turns out horribly. You might be good at baking but you’re no artist so it’s no surprise they aren’t great on your first try. Also because you should have actually listened to the part in the instructions that stated not to try icing the cookies until they are fully cooled instead of being impatient and deciding they were cool enough. But although the icing is runny and the designs are mostly ruined it will still taste good so that’s good enough for you. You are careful to wait before you ice the next batch though. You do want some nice looking ones that you’ll be able to give out to your friends when you see them at Tony’s house for the third annual avengers family Christmas dinner tomorrow.

Batch by batch you slowly ice all the cookies, each batch looking nicer than the last as you both get better at what you’re doing. Just as your hands are starting to cramp you finish your last cookie and look over to see Natasha adding the finishing touches to hers (begrudgingly you must admit she is slightly better at decorating cookies than you). She smiles over at you as she places her cookie on the done rack and steps back to admire your work.

“Fuck.”

“What? Nat what’s wrong?”

“The kitchen is a mess again.”

You look around. You hadn’t noticed it as you were baking but there is a build up of dirty dishes in the sink, spilling out to the counter beside it. There is flour dust on practically everything and a random liquid that is probably water spilled on the counter. Not to mention all the ingredients that you used out beside the stove and the icing covering everything on the half of the kitchen that you used as an icing station. It’s not quite as bad as the state it was in when you found it this morning but it’s close.

“The mess is just a part of the fun.”

“The fun?” Natasha sounds confused so you decide to show her. Behind your back you sneakily dip your finger in one of the icing bags to get it covered in green icing and hide it there. Slowly you move closer to her then at the last second you whip out your finger and smudge the icing all over the tip of her nose, laughing at how her eyes are wide and confused.

“Food fights.” you explain. She continues to stare at you for a few seconds and you’re terrified you did something to accidentally upset her but then suddenly an icing bag is getting smashed in your face and you can feel the icing go everywhere, including your eyelashes.

She smiles. “It is fun.”

“No,” you correct, “it is war.”

With your words both of you come to life darting all over the kitchen and throwing whatever scraps of ingredients you can find at each other. The air becomes dusty with flour and as Natasha smushes an egg on your shirt you smash icing into her ear. The fight only lasts a few minutes before you get tired but you’re laughing the whole time. It’s probably the most intense food fight you’ve ever been in because other people don’t take it as seriously as Natasha does which only serves to make it more fun when you get her with something. You must admit though as your laughter cools down that even in a food fight Natasha has you beat as you are way more covered in flour and icing than she is.

“Thank you,” Natasha says, suddenly soft again, “for the cookie making and the fun.”

“Anytime Tasha.” you tell her. “You know I love spending Christmas day with the avengers and I love the gifts and how exciting that all is but I think this Christmas my favourite part will be spending Christmas eve with you making cookies and having silly fights.”

“What did I say about making me emotional?” Natasha complains but ignoring her words steps in reaching for a hug which you gladly reciprocate. “It’s my favourite part too.”

You hum in acknowledgement to her words but don’t respond verbally choosing instead to hold her even tighter to you. You think about how much you love her and moments like these. You think about the small box in the pocket of an old coat hidden at the back of your closet and how many more Christmases like these you’ll have if she says yes.

[indiee19]

I Thought I Was Yours Forever

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: You reminisce memories of yours and Alex's relationship after you find him cheating.

warnings: cheating, light swearing

word count: 1588

A/N: Wow, I cried while writing this, also it’s kind of short

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The bedroom was mostly rid of all his things, he was packing up, his expression unreadable. You didn't want him to leave, but it was best for you and him, even though he didn't want to admit it.

Alex finished his packing, and turned to you. "Love, we don't have to do this," he said, his voice breaking near the end of the sentence. He tried to make eye contact with you, but you avoided his gaze.

You didn't answer him, just looked down at the floor in disappointment.

"Answer me, please, love," he said, taking one step towards you, but you stepped back. "Yes, we do have to do this. I have to do this," you answered, tears welling up in your eyes, finally meeting his eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry, love," he apologized, stepping towards you again, lightly grabbing your forearms. You knew he wasn't sorry.

"You sure as hell didn't look sorry when you were fucking that other girl," you said bluntly, looking back down at the floor. He looked down as well, didn't want be reminded of the truth, not wanting to be reminded of the awful 'mistake' the he had made.

"C-can you leave, Alex? Please," you asked, wanting him and the memories of him to be gone.

"Yeah, love, I can," he replied, grabbing his bags, walking down the hallway to the font door, you following him.

He opened the door, stepping through it, stopping himself so that he could turn around to face you, tears welling up in his eyes as well now, showing his emotions that he hadn't shown until now. "I know that it won't mean much, but ... I love you. And I'm so, so sorry, love," he said, tears running down his cheeks as well as some running down yours.

He turned around and walked out of the door, shutting it behind him. You walked over to the couch, crying, letting all of the emotions that had built up the past few days out.

Your mind started to flash back to the night that broke you. You had come home late from work, expecting Alex to be there at the door waiting for you to come home, to cuddle and love you like he always did, but that wasn't the case that night.

When he wasn't there you assumed that he was in bed, waiting for you. But when you walked into the bedroom, you didn't find Alex asleep, or waiting for you. He was in bed, on top of another woman, fucking her.

After the woman had left and Alex had got some pants on, he kept saying sorry over and over again, while you kept crying, asking why he did it.

-

"Why, Alex, why? Was I not good enough for you?" you yelled. He kept trying to explain and kept coming closer, but you wouldn't come near him.

"No, love, you are good enough for me, in fact you're more than good enough for me. A-and I'm so, so, so, so sorry, love. Please, please forgive me," he pleaded, getting down on his knees and begging you.

-

You eventually stopped crying, your face tear stained, nose red. You stood up and walked to the kitchen, more memories of Alex coming back to you.

You remembered all the times you and Alex cooked and baked together. You laughed slightly at the memory of the time that Alex had burnt your birthday cake, and you still ate it to make him feel better about burning it.

You remembered all the times Alex had made you food when you were sick and remembered you doing the same for him.

You couldn't bear those memories anymore so you left, walked to the bedroom, stopping at the bathroom.

You couldn't help but reminisce on all the baths and showers you and Alex took together, the times when Alex ran you hot, relaxing baths with rose petals on your birthdays and yours and his anniversaries. You remembered the times that Alex let you do his makeup, the times that you put face masks on each other.

You pushed those memories away, walking to the bedroom. You stood in the doorway, starring at the bed.

You remembered the night you knew that you'd never forget, even though you wish you could. You wanted to forgive him, wanted him to come back, you knew that you shouldn't want that, but you did.

As you starred at the bed, you remembered the times when Alex had come home late, wondering if what he'd said about being at the bar with the guys was true, wondered if he was just lying and was with that girl.

Then you remembered all the good things that had happened in the bedroom. All the memories of you and Alex tangled up in each other for hours on end, waking up on holidays beside him, having him make you breakfast in bed, all the times that he had made you feel better about yourself and all the times that you'd do the same for him.

You looked over at the closet, knowing that it was no longer full, it wasn't even half full anymore, more like a third full. You wore Alex's clothes quite a lot and saw nothing wrong with that, and now you had to wear your own clothes, and you would miss the scent of his spicy cologne that was practically embedded into his clothes.

You hated this, hated how much you missed him, hated how much you still loved him, you knew you shouldn't miss him or still love him, but you did. You couldn't picture a life without him, especially not in yours and Alex's house that you no longer shared with him, and you hated that.

You couldn't bear the memories anymore, you needed to escape them. You walked over to the closet, changing out of your shorts and shirt into some jeans and a blouse, walking to the door, grabbing your bag and putting on your shoes, heading out of the door.

You walked to the bar you used to frequent with your friends long before you had met Alex, and even a while after you met him you still went there a lot, with or without him, occasionally with some of his friends. It wasn't a long walk, so you made it there in about eight minutes, walking through the door, finding an empty seat at the bar. You ordered whiskey, downing it as soon as you got it.

"Hey, what're you doing here all by yourself?" a man said. You turned to where the voice came from. "Look, I'm not interested in - oh, hey, Miles," you said. He opened his arms and gave you a big hug, kissing your cheek lightly.

"How have you been, Mi?" you asked. He sat down beside you, ordering a drink himself. "Oh, you know, I've been good. Working on an album now actually," he replied. "Where's Alex?"

You sighed, you hadn't told anyone about you and Alex breaking up, the only person you told was your best friend. "Oh, he's back at the house, he was really tired so I let him sleep," you lied, you had no idea where he was and you didn't care.

"Oh, that's funny, because he's at my house. Crying about how much he messed up," Miles said, finishing his drink.

"So he told you-" he interrupted you.

"Yeah, and I wanted to say sorry. And was wondering if we could still be friends, even after what happened," he nodded.

"Yes, of course, Mi," you said quickly. You had figured that yours and Alex's friends that you knew would stay friends and you were happy that Miles was the first one to ask if you could still be friends.

You chatted for a bit longer, glancing over at the clock noticing that it was half twelve. You said your goodbyes to Miles and exited the bar, walking home. As soon as you got home, you checked your phone, you didn't check it while talking to miles. You saw the many texts from Alex.

-

I love you and I'm sorry.

Please forgive me?

I'm so sorry and I promise that it'll never happen again.

Please?

-

You had pushed Alex out of your mind for most of the time while you were at the bar, too focused and your conversation with Miles. You felt tears well up in your eyes, you meant to block his number but could never bring yourself to do it in the few days before he left.

You walked to your bedroom, changing into some shorts and a comfier shirt, crawling under the covers, feeling lonely in the bed that now felt very large, not remembering it ever being this size, but then again, you were hardly ever alone in it. You plugged in your phone before you received another message from Alex.

-

I know I've said this a million times, but I'm sorry and I still love you. Please take me back and I promise I'll never make that mistake again. And I'll serenade you, and shower you with all of my affection. Please?

-

You wanted to take him back, you really did. But what he did was unforgivable in your eyes. Once a cheater, always a cheater is what your friend said to you when you told her about him cheating.

You put your phone down, lying down. You knew that it would take a while to get over him, but you couldn't take him back, not after what he did.