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junicult · 2 years

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!! what it’d be like sleeping w the bachelors

contains ; nsfw! suggestive content. fem!farmer. desc of sex. oral (m & f!receiving). fingering. creampie(s). one brief mention of spitting. brief mentions of a breeding kink. praise. lots of kissing. not proofread!

harvey.

- fuck.

- i said this once, and i’ll say it again:

- he is a doctor. he knows. what. he’s. DOING!!!!!

- the most passionate. he’s extremely focused on how you’re feeling, if you’re happy, or comfortable.

- he’s obsessed with going down on you. it’s honestly his favorite part.

- sometimes you don’t even have sex, he just goes down on you and calls it a night.

- what? you feel dirty, and gross from working on the farm all day? that’s fine, he’ll respect your wishes. but in no way would that be an issue for him.

- if anything, it makes him happier because all that tells him is you’re working hard and healthy.

- and he just wants you to be healthy.

- which is why he likes to have sex every night! it’s good for your mind, body, and soul. doctors orders!

- it’s like a part of your nightly routine. an unspoken rule you’re never opposed to unless it’s really late or you’re exhausted.

- shower sex!! i said it.

- your skin all soapy and clean, wet hair clinging to your cheeks while he fucks u against the wall. lol.

- i feel like he doesn’t really curse. it’s not that he’s against it, he just doesn’t have those words in his daily vocabulary.

- but during sex…that’s a whole new thing.

- “fuck…fuck y’feel so good.” “oh my—shit, sweetheart. just like that.”

- he’s whimpering in your ear, breath heavy on your skin.

- he bites his lower lip to keep from being too loud.

- he insists on wearing a condom. practicing safe sex is extremely important to him!

- even if you’re on birth control. and especially if you’re not ready for children yet.

- but if you are…

- phew. that’s a different story for another day.

- he’s a missionary guy. or cowgirl, but mostly missionary.

- he just likes seeing you moaning underneath him, how easily he can kiss you, and look at you.

- his aftercare is the sweetest. loves giving you massages or rubs your feet after a long day.

- makes u pee after lol.

- kisses you endlessly. his lips have touched every inch of your body.

- definitely likes to cuddle somehow. doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nearly engulfing you.

sam.

- THIS. MAN.

- he’s so cute, are u kidding?

- first and foremost: he fucking loves kissing you. constantly.

- no matter what you’re doing, how your day started, what your mood is like, whatever: he’s coming up to kiss you on the lips.

- so sex w him will always begin in a heavy makeout session.

- not only is it fun, but he’s incredibly good at it.

- hand cupping your cheek, other around your waist. his lips move so softly and sensually, making you feel like glass under his fingertips.

- loves having you on his lap, feeling you up while distracting you.

- loves the feeling of you running your fingers through his hair, your nails digging into his scalp.

- he’s a sweetheart. all about your pleasure, and what you feeling like doing.

- “are you tired? want me to run a bath, baby?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

- ngl, he kinda loves when you’re a little exhausted. he loves being able to pamper you.

- like, you immediately walk through the door sighing and throwing yourself onto the couch. he’s already giving you a kiss, and putting on his sweetest eyes to ask if you’re alright.

- he’s also a missionary fan. it’s sweet, it’s romantic. he likes looking at you during it.

- bbiiiiigggg fan of talking—although he isn’t really aware of it.

- “just like—oh my god, you’re gonna kill me.” “ngh, fuck baby…feels s’good.” “i’m gonna cum, cum with me please, pretty please?”

- he’s just talking, honestly. literally not a single cell in his brain is registering the pure porn spilling from his lips but you adore all of it.

- thank god (yoba) u live on a farm, cus he is one loud mf.

- actually whimpers when he comes. like he’s shaking, eyebrows pinching, MOANING.

- i forgot to mention but this mf LOVES hickeys. give him tons of hickeys and he’s all yours.

shane.

- a slut🤷‍♀️

- he’s had experience. like plenty of it, and despite those years of his life being behind him, he still knows what he’s doing.

- cups ur jaw while kissing you.

- may or may not spit in ur mouth once or twice. idk.

- doggystyle!!!!!!!!!!! lol

- something about the way your ass looks with your hair balled into his fist makes him literally such a mf slut.

- tugging you back so he can groan in your ear.

- “feels so fucking good. gonna cum f’me? yeah? g’na do that?”

- literally has you panting, with tears welling in your eyes.

- probably changes positions like five times per round. he just can’t decide which one you look better in.

- big fan of counter sex, or couch sex.

- looovvesss cowgirl.

- hands around your waist or your thighs, using minimal strength to help you bounce on his cock.

- he can’t stop watching the soft bounce of your tits, and the way your head hangs while you’re moaning.

- will absolutely bully into you if he thinks you’re going too slow, or if you get tired.

- cums inside of u (shocking).

- or on your back, depending on which position or if you want him to.

- tips his head back, his eyebrows pinching and he lets out a low groan while he finishes.

- takes him a solid like 3 mins to catch his breath.

- his aftercare consists of feeling you up, kissing you softly. he’ll almost always offer you a glass of water, but will absolutely pass out afterwards.

- he has enough stamina to give you multiple rounds, but once he’s finished he’s knocked out LMFAOO

sebastian.

- not super experienced.

- he’s not a virgin, but with how little he’s had sex, he’s still new to a lot of things.

- he’s a big fan of being guided. like, tell him what you want, what you like, and he’s on it🫡

- LOVES eating you out, especially when he’s doing it right and he gets to see your reactions.

- but he also loves when you go down on him.

- he becomes this little shell of himself, his face beat red and his hands trying to cover his flushed face. he’s gnawing on his lower lip, trying his best not to moan and whine but ofc it’s not working.

- once he’s too distracted to care what he looks like, his hands are immediately grabbing onto the sheets and pillows, literally anything nearby.

- the first time you ever gave him head…he came in 10 seconds.

- was so fucking embarrassed. literally still cringes when he thinks abt it.

- despite you reassuring him that it didn’t bother you at all, and you’re actually really flattered by it.

- but yeah, anyways,

- when it comes to fucking, he likes when you’re on top.

- so any form of cowgirl, he’s your guy.

- he’s not so much vocal as he is with just panting.

- like, he’s not going to talk to you, save for the occasional, “you feel so good,” but he’s absolutely not dead silent.

- mf is a whimperer. he gets so easily flustered, of course he’s hiding his face from your devious grin.

- he likes fingering you.

- he’s got long, thin, pale fingers that he doesn’t rly know what to do with, so when you help him out he’s all kinds of excited.

- will never forget when he made you cum on his fingers for the first time. literally gives him such an ego boost, especially when you praise him.

- now he makes fingering a never-forget step while having sex with you.

- aftercare is usually just cuddling after he forces u to pee cus u know ya’ll are strictly using the pull out method lmfao.

alex.

- he’s the kind of bf that smacks ur ass when ur walking past him.

- probably pretends to hit on you when he runs into u in public.

- like, “whoa, you’re cute. we should hangout sometime,” while ur literally getting groceries for the two of u to eat.

- i digress.

- he’s so mf affectionate. his hands are never leaving your waist if he’s anywhere near you.

- especially when you come in after finishing up work, and you feel all gross but he’s swooning from the sight of u.

- “hi, baby. how was work?”

- running his hands up your shirt and pressing kisses all along the side of your neck.

- aka (he’s horny).

- he’s gentle with you, especially if you’re tired and had a bad day. he’s just pressing his soft lips on your skin while you recap what made you so upset, nodding and humming along.

- “anything i can do to make you feel better?” and he doesn’t ask with ulterior motives, he does want you to feel better, but he’ll never say no if you want to have sex.

- if you’re exhausted, or tired but you still wanna do something—well he’s fingering u.

- will probably eat u out, but he’s making u cum on his fingers mostly.

- coaxes you through it.

- “mm, yeah i know, baby. just let it out.”

- haha.

- wall sex enthusiast.

- or even the mating press.

- just so he can show off his strength, his arms hooked underneath your legs while he fucks you sobbing.

- STAMINA!!!!!!!!!!

- this man can go for rounds after rounds after ROUNDSSS on end.

- you’re panting, catching your breath once he starts kissing you slowly again, and you’re back to whining.

- “c’mon sweetheart. i know you can do it. you can give me one more, right? just one?”

- such a little bastard i fear.

- his aftercare is just extensive amounts of praise, and kissing, and holding you. he’s asking if you need anything.

- falls asleep while keeping you caged against him.

elliot.

- vocal vocal vocal vocal vocal.

- sex with him is nothing but romantic.

- i’m talking holding hands, cupping your cheek, kissing your lips so passionately while he’s so extremely gentle.

- he’ll never be rough with you, i’m sorry. he’s just not that kind of guy.

- master at praise.

- “so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous i love you so much.” “feels so good my love, ‘m so close,”

- imagine him putting his hair into like a little bun and loose strands are just falling out, framing his face while he makes love to u.

- cus y’all know he’s not fucking u😭

- once again, we have a pussy eating connoisseur.

- tug on his hair while he’s going down on u. do it.

- his arms wrapped around your hips holding your legs still, face delved between your thighs for however long you need him to be / how long he wants to be.

- i’m here to tell you that if elliot’s had a bad day, he’s eating you out to make him feel better.

- doesn’t care what you were doing, if you haven’t showered yet, he literally doesn’t care.

- …missionary enthusiast too.

- i’m sorry but they all are 😓

- he’ll literally never degrade you. even if you want him to, i promise you he’ll try, but he just can’t.

- a firm believer that you should come at least two or three times before he does.

- loves to see you blissed out underneath him before he even thinks about cumming.

- his aftercare is so perfect. he’s getting you water, rubbing your sore muscles, running a bath if you need it.

- without a doubt cuddling. ofc.

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fuxuannie · 1 year

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REQS R OPEN can i please get a sampo wampo cutie patootie pookie wookie babygirl any prompt uwaah🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank u uwuwuwuwuuwu 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋 xoxo bob

* pairing : sampo x gn reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : cale i hope u know everyones gonna see that LMAO.. inspired by a drawing requester sent me

You groaned a little as Natasha informs you on where your partner had snuck off this time. "Seems like he's once again snuck off to the snowy plains to do.. whatever it is he does." She chuckled, watching you massage your head as you prepared yourself for the headache that is exploring the area. "Thanks, Nat. You're always the right person to ask for this kind of thing."

You had taken the hidden route that SAMPO showed you, which was a path that would lead to the land of endless snow just outside Belabogs walls. As you walked, your boots made no prints onto the snow which was convenient for expeditions like these with all the Silvermane Guards around. A neat little trick your boyfriend had taught you, speaking of which, that also made trying to find him much harder.

You were about to begin your search, but the sounds of Silvermane Guards up ahead catch your attention. You have nowhere to go nor hide, if you turn back they'll see where you came from and you'd rather not get scolded for ratting out your boyfriends one way ticket out of Belabog. Just as you were going to get caught, a pair of hands emerge from a pile of snow that you initially assumed was a snow covered rock and pulled you in.

The comfort that comes with your partners arms around you keeps you warm. You turn a little, already recognizing that shameless smile of his as he's hiding in the snow. "Sam-" But he quickly hushes you, listening to the distant sound of Silvermane Guards talking before they begin to walk away.

He falls to the floor, dragging you along with him as you're trapped between his arms and legs. Snow falling onto the heads of the both of you as you can hear him chuckle. "Not funny." You mumble, but he only hums in what you can assume to be amusemement, his hand running through your hair to get the snow off it.

"We might be here for a while.." He says softly, a kiss to your cheek as he rests his head on yours. "Wanna take a nap?" You turn a little to face him, not a hint of sarcasm and a face that was fully serious about what he suggested.

You sigh in disappointment, and turn your head away from him again. "Are you seriously about to sleep inside a pile of snow?" But his soft snores behind you are enough of an answer, you grumble a little but it's not like you can do much, and he was right too. There were a handful of guards at this hour, so you may as well wait for nightfall when they have a specific time period of changing guards. You use his arms as a hugging pillow, and fall asleep with him.

++ BONUS

"What shall we do with them, sir?" One of the guards asked Gepard. Who sighs at the sight of you, his dearest sibling, snuggled up to Belabogs most wanted criminal. "I'll handle it." He answered, signalling that they may leave and he'll deal with you.

But as the guard leaves Gepards sight, he only crosses his arms and huffed. "You owe me one." He'll say, turning a blind eye and walking away from the scene. Informing the other guards to avoid the area for the time-being.

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sampo hsr x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader

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destielfanfic · 1 year

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from the inbox, #10

I love to see new asks about post season 15 destiel fics but my answers are mostly the same, unfortunately. The usual disclaimer applies - our blog transitioned to archive in January 2018, during season 13, and our new fic recs drastically decreased.

Hello, could you recommend any plot-driven fics set post-15x20 that are a bit longer and also explore the relationship between Dean and Castiel? I'm mostly looking for something that is canon compliant (Dean dies and goes to heaven in 15x20)

I’ve answered similar asks on our previous from the inbox posts, so definitely check out those. But for the sake of convenience, here are some links - post 15x20 rec lists Happiness isn’t in the Having and Good things Do Happen . These are mostly short fics, but you can always check out the authors and see if they have longer fics.

This is random, but do you know any fics where Dean starts dating cas because he feels bad? Something like dean dates castiel as a pity date? I've really been wanting to read something like that :p

This is very random indeed! Especially if that is meant in a post 15x20 setting. I must admit I’m drawing a blank here.

hi! not sure if this is the right place to ask this (if it’s not im rly sorry!) but can u rec me some destiel fics where like . dean thought they were dating all along and cas didn’t? sorry if it didn’t make a lot of sense! thanks

And this is an opposite of the previous ask!

OK, guys, since there is huge interest in post finale destiel fics, I’m opening floor for follower recs/ self recs on this post. Please add in reblogs or notes destiel fics that fit these criteria:

A - longer, plot driven post 15x20 fics that explore Dean and Cas relationship

B - fics where Dean takes Cas on a pity date after Cas confessed his love in 15x18; canon verse fics are preferred but if you have some AUs, feel free to add

C - fics where Dan thought they were dating while Cas had no idea

＊＊＊＊

We have some fic suggestions from our followers！

A - canon verse fics dealing with 15x20

The Blood Curse by Labgeek2002 [M, 32,700 word count]

Castiel has been rescued from the Empty, but the spell used to retrieve him tears a hole in the dimensional wall that acts as barrier protecting Earth from the pull of everlasting darkness. As the Empty feeds off of Castiel's grace to sustain itself, driving him closer to death with every passing minute, Dean becomes desperate to save him. The only way to repair the damage is for Dean, Sam, and Cas to travel back in time to obtain a witch's stone that's in the possession of John Winchester, circa 2002. A twenty-three year old Dean Winchester will serve as their guide as they navigate the tumultuous father-son relationship that transcends time itself before the Empty draws its final curtain.

Beyond This Illusion by tiaevans87 [NC-17, 161,400 word count]

“Are you serious, Dean? Your djinn-dream started with you dying?” Sam asks incredulously from the passenger seat on the way back to the bunker. “Well, technically it started with us going on a hunt,” Dean points out. He licks his lips, jaw clenching. “I mean, there was Heaven, too, and that was pretty cool.” Sam stares at him. “Unbelievable,” he breathes, scrunching his face up in distaste. When Dean glares at him, he holds his hands up defensively and chuckles weakly. “Sorry, man, but that just sounds pretty lame.” He leans back and folds his arms. “It just…I dunno. Kinda sounds like something Chuck would cook up. Just you and me. No one else. I mean, really?” He scoffs, slumping. *~*~* In which some people come back, Cas learns to be human (the right way, this time), Dean Winchester finally realizes that good things do happen, and they all get their version of the post-credits, apple-pie life they deserved. AKA: Screw Chuck's narrative.

B - Dean takes Cas on a pity date

On Labor by a_good_soldier [NC-17, 24,600 word count]

Cas is back from the Empty, and Dean knows how to be grateful.

because he wears cowboy boots by mmtion [NC-17, 65,300 word count]

When Cas comes back from the Empty, Dean has to rethink everything about their relationship, and Dean’s new, post-Chuck duty. He wants Cas to be happy and get what he wants. So, if he wants Dean, then he has him. Dean’s new responsibility is to be the best boyfriend Cas will ever want or need. If that means moving out of the bunker, and not driving the Impala, and letting Cas fuck him, then that’s what he has to do. It’s an easy deal. It should be an easy life. So how come Dean still can’t quite make sense of it?

#destiel #from the inbox #su #this is kinda experiment #let's see how that goes #all recs fitting the criteria are welcome #feel free to add some thoughts #your very own mini reviews

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melrosing · 10 months

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I really appreciate your insight on Jaime, so I thought I’d might ask something that’s been puzzling me for a while about his endgame.

One of the most common predictions for Jaime is that he ends up at the Night’s Watch, possibly as its 1000th commander. While there’s certainly some foreshadowing for it, I struggle to think of a reason for the Night’s Watch to exist after the Wall falls and the Others die. What do you make of this? Do you think that Jaime could end up at the Wall?

Btw, sorry for the nasty anon messages. You’re super cool and I love your art <3

thank u so much!! and genuine lol @ the anon messages like imagine launching a personal attack because someone said Arya likes adventure you can't make this shit up 😭

I have heard this theory and I'm not a fan bc I just.... don't really enjoy reading about the night's watch/the wall/beyond the wall etc etc so ideally my fave's endgame would not be there of all places but I kind of see where the theory comes from. I don't think it's foreshadowed so it's not something that worries me but these are like my sparknotes on it.

the night's watch may well still exist even when the Wall does not; I think in Jon's story we see both the good and the bad of the NW, and what's contradictory between each. I think the primary contradiction of the NW oath is that they swear to 'guard the realms of men' whilst guarding against those who live beyond the wall. Jon's story highlights the hypocrisy in this, and I think the end of the story will be about Jon and the NW finding a new purpose in embracing the world and peoples beyond the wall as part of Westeros, helping them rebuild, keeping them safe, etc. the good that does exist in the NW can be put to real use, in a way that serves everyone. I can really see the story pointing that way for both Jon and the NW as an institution

Jaime meanwhile.... I guess the only foreshadowing I can think of is that Ned suggested after Jaime killed Aerys that he be sent to the Wall, but Jaime remained in the KG, a supposedly 'perfect institution'. comparably, the NW is famously made up of 'less than perfect' men, who enter it from all walks of life. and there's a consistent, underlying contrast between the KG and the NW - the KG in their gleaming white cloaks and the NW in their blacks, and the truth being that the KG is the corrupt institution whilst the NW (not without problems of its own) is the one with the ultimately selfless objective and that exists for the common good. and the NW is also considered a kind of atonement. so sure, there's some poetry in Jaime shifting from one to the other

there are also many interesting parallels between Jon and Jaime, particularly as lord commanders of their respective institutions - it's a fun exercise in compare and contrast. again probably a whole other post but if AFFC and ADWD were combined in one book I think these points would seem a lot more obvious

however, I don't see Jaime becoming the Lord Commander of the NW - as he has no history in the watch, it would be probably a bit insulting for Jaime to take immediate charge of the whole thing - it should really be someone with that history for it to resonate for both the NW itself and the reader. I think it'll be Jon, i.e. that he'll leave Winterfell to become the LC again OR they just won't have an LC, they'll revise the structure of the whole institution

do I think Jaime will end up at the Wall?? I guess not really?? I think his story is just so far removed from anything beyond the wall and the Night's Watch itself that it just feels too mismatched. all the key plots and characters he's tied up with are and always have been based in the south, so throwing him in the NW would feel to me a bit out of left field. ultimately I wouldn't hate the idea of Jaime rebuilding with the wildlings and kind of committing to a humbler good than worrying about a grander legacy. and it's more of an open ending than death, in that supposedly he wouldn't have to swear the same dehumanising oaths (re. personal freedoms) as the existing NW - you'd hope that when they're rebuilding from scratch they kind of. loosen up on that shit. so the idea that even if Jaime spent the bulk of his time there he's not cut off entirely from Brienne, Tyrion etc (it's not an ending I like for Brienne either but who knows maybe she'd join him). but yeah idk I'm just not a huge fan of Jaime beyond the wall. maybe I could come round to it but you know. eh

#jaime lannister #asoiaf #ask

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amberfaber40 · 2 years

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Rock music Independent films TV shows

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil - More Fantasy Than Fairy Tale

Usually within the first few minutes of a film, I have a general sense of whether or not I’m going to like a movie. And I didn’t have a good…

500 days of summer movie poster

Looking for something to spice up your bedroom or dorm room. This is the perfect item to show off your favorite movies and tv shows!! This is also a perfect gift for anyone for any occasion and give someone a gift that perfectly shows off their interests in movies and tv shows! I offer pre made and customizable packs. PLEASE READ THE DESCRIPTION BEFORE ORDERING!! Link to View More print packs: https://haileysvividartist.wixsite.com/haileys-vivid-artist MESSAGE ME FOR RESTOCKS!! I also do album prints in this polaroid style. Please message me for this! **5 packs are random in the genre you select** I am still doing album prints, they are considered a custom pack! You will receive 5, 10, 15, 25 or 50 prints. They are printed on 4x6 inch glossy photo paper. Please keep in mind that older movies will have lower quality images. More recent shows and movies will have much higher quality images. The sets are prepackaged which is why the prints are listed into which set they are in. If you would like a specific print message me around the last week of the month and I can set aside a few prints for your order (I will hold a MAXIMUM of 5 prints per person). If you order a prepackaged print and leave personalization, guarantee you won’t get all the prints you listed. I will send the prepackaged pack. I have custom options for a reason. Please DON'T ask for substitutions. If purchased a custom pack, you can email images to use at haileysvividartistry [!at] gmail.com For the images: -Please try to crop it to a square format, or have the subject in the center so I can crop it to a square -Email in the format of .JPEG, . PNG, or . JPG -If the picture is bad quality that’s how it is printed. I suggest finding the highest quality photo you can For every order over $50, $5 will be donated to charity; if you have a preference of a charity for your order please message me! Thank you :) To hang up you can use tape, blue tack, glue dots or anything else you may want. (Not included in print packs.) Please keep in mind that if you want an older movie, the photo will be less quality than newer movies. I cannot control this variable. Thank you :))

✰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 // 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘦

The Princess Diaries Movie Poster Poster by imogen ripley

Blank walls suck, so bring some life to your dorm, bedroom, office, studio, wherever Printed on 185gsm semi gloss poster paper Custom cut - refer to size chart for finished measurements Includes a 3/16 inch (5mm) white border to assist in framing

Titanic

Scream 6 - Original Theatrical Movie Poster 27x40 Advance A

Original theatrical movie poster for Scream 6 Size is 27"x40" Poster is double sided for light box usage. Displays fine without a lightbox. Back side is a mirror image of the front. These are not print on demand, they are original studio printed posters. Near Mint to mint, no speakable flaws. Poster ships in crush resistant tube, polysleeved, with both ends padded.

Alternative Movie Posters vol.2

tangeled;aw

Star Wars Movie Empire Strikes Back Return Of The Jedi Poster

Bad Girl Vibes & Quotes From the Movie Cruella

She's brilliant, bad and a little bit mad. Here are all the bad girl vibes and best quotes from the movie Cruella.

the perks of being a wallflower

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

SAM DUNN

Had fun making an alternate NOPE movie poster concept!

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ptergwen · 3 years

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Hey Val! I love ur writing so so much and ur amazing! My request is maybe like a Tom Holland x Reader where Y/N is a famous actress and Paddy’s celeb crush, and one day Tom brings Y/N home to meet his brothers and Paddy is vying for her attention and Tom and Paddy get jealous of each other? Thanks in advance if u decide to write this!💕

thank you so much love!! i took forever on this i’m sorry :( please enjoy

“you’re dating who?” paddy gawks, harry snickering at him from across the table. tom leans back in his chair. “y/n y/l/n. you’ve heard of her, haven’t you?” he clasps his hands behind his head. “i’ve seen all her movies at least twice. i… i love her!” his youngest brother beams. “so do i,” tom playfully challenges.

“darling, you should bring her by tomorrow. sam’s cooking us dinner,” nikki suggests with a supportive smile. hearing his name mentioned, sam peeks up from his phone. “since when?” “since your brother has a girlfriend he’s only just told us about!” she nudges tom’s shoulder. tom bites back the grin growing on his lips. “a girlfriend he loves, at that.”

“he’s not the only one,” harry comments and glances at paddy, whose whole face has gone red. “i guess i could whip something up. i’m visiting the shops later,” sam agrees with a nod at tom. he winks back. “thanks, mate.” turning to his mom, tom’s own face gets warm. “sorry i haven’t said anything, mum. we’ve been trying to keep our relationship on the low. dating in hollywood is…”

“a shit show,” nikki finishes for tom. her words make him chuckle. “exactly. we wanted to make sure we were ready before bringing in the rest of the world.” eager as ever, paddy speaks up again. “i think we’re the perfect people to start with, specifically me.” that earns a quirked eyebrow from tom. “easy there, padster man.” he looks him over, trying to figure out his motives. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were trying to steal my girl.”

paddy points at him with a glint in his eyes tom has never seen. “you don’t know any better.”

the family gets back to their conversation, talking about what you’re like and how their dad’s gigs are going. tom is a bit distracted, though. he isn’t sure what paddy meant by that. realistically, he knows he won’t be stealing you away. there’s a huge age gap among other things. it seems to tom like paddy has a crush on you, a big one. he’s probably just excited to meet you. that’s good, right?

tom doesn’t think about it again until arriving back at his parents’ the next day. you’re with him this time, nervously clutching at your purse in one hand while your free one squeezes his. he frowns at your fidgeting.

“y/n… they’re gonna love you, sweetheart,” he assures you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “how do you know?” you wonder as you two walk up the steps. “because i love you, and i think paddy’s got a thing for you as well.” he’s smirking when he tells you this. scoffing, you curl into tom’s side. “i love you too, but what’s up with paddy?” you stand next to tom on the porch. he rings the doorbell before replying.

“he’s watched your whole filmography, all your interviews,” tom explains, shaking his head lightheartedly. “i’m sure there’s a poster or two of you in his room somewhere.” you pout your lower lip out. “aw, so he’s a fan?” “he’s my competition,” he jokes. your head falls onto tom’s shoulder with a sigh. “he’s a literal child, tom… and your brother.” you glance up at him wickedly. “maybe i can sign his posters. i think he’d like that.”

tom slips his arm around your waist, hearing footsteps come towards the door. “oh, paddy would be thrilled,” he confirms. your response is a hum as the front door swings open. “tom, darling. back so soon?” nikki teases her son, then gives you the warmest grin. “you must be y/n. we haven’t heard much about you, but we will.” you return the smile and let her take your hand to guide you inside.

after all the introductions, you gather outside to sit and talk. sam is in the kitchen cooking, nikki is helping him, and harry is setting the table. that leaves you with tom and paddy. they’re on either side of you, your head on tom’s shoulder and his arm around both of yours. paddy is talking about a school project while you nod along. he’s completely harmless, contrary to how tom described him.

“the deadline is next friday, but i’ve only just started,” paddy explains, you laughing softly. tom’s lips brush your ear. “i’m gonna look for something to drink. do you want anything?” he speaks in a whisper and trails his fingertips over your shoulder. “sure, tommy. whatever you’re having, thanks,” you reply with a kiss to the back of his hand. paddy clenches his jaw as he watches you two.

“what about you, pads? soda?” tom teases and earns a giggle from you. “i told you not to call me that,” paddy groans back. he scrunches his face up when tom reaches over you to ruffle his hair. “someone’s got to put you in your place. soda it is.” “don’t take too long.” you tilt your head back to look at tom. “i won’t.” he licks his lips before pressing them to yours, trying to deepen it form the angle.

“children are present,” you remind him, sitting back up promptly. “be a good boy and get our drinks.” “ok, fine. i’m going,” tom laughs out, pecking your cheek and standing from the couch. paddy rolls his eyes when his brother finally gets inside. he hates being thought of as a child by you, even if he is one. “so,” you start to fill the silence. “what else are you-“

“i think you’re an incredible actress,” paddy says instead with an innocent smile. “really? thank you so much.” you rest your head in your hand, grinning. “tom kinda told me already. he said you’ve seen all my movies.” “did he?” paddy repeats bitterly. he’d probably made him sound obsessed. you’re still grinning. “mhm, and that you might have posters of me.” his eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep pink. he’ll never let tom in his room again.

“between you and me…” you look behind you to make sure tom isn’t coming. paddy scoots closer to you and nods. “i think tom is a little jealous.” “he should be,” paddy mumbles to himself. that doesn’t stop you from hearing. “what are you-“ “how about you help me with my project? i could use the extra hands,” he smoothly changes the subject. must be a holland thing.

“let’s wait until after dinner. tom is gonna be back soon, anyway,” you try to reason. you’re only fueling the fire by saying that. “i need to use all the time i have. come with me!” he’s grabbing your hands before you can protest again. you end up following paddy to his room, tom still sucked into a conversation with the rest of his family. harry sees you two pass by. he murmurs a div to paddy.

when tom gets back outside with two beers and a coke, you and paddy are gone. he frowns, heading to the kitchen once again.

“has anyone seen y/n?” he wonders and scans the room for you. “i think paddy stole her.” “they’re in his room. he just brought her up,” harry replies, his lips forming a line. a bit of anger bubbles in tom upon hearing this. “dinner is nearly done!” nikki gasps. “bring them back down,” sam requests. setting the drinks on the counter, tom sighs. “will do. give me a minute.”

tom’s annoyance only grows as he ascends the stairs. he can hear your giggling from behind the bedroom door, obviously caused by paddy. it’s silly that he’s so jealous of his baby brother, but he knows him well.

the door opens to reveal you laying stomach down on the floor and paddy on his bed. you’re autographing a picture of yourself while he gets books together for his assignment. tom isn’t sure what he was expecting, though he’s relieved this is all it is.

“oh, tom!” you notice him standing in the doorway and cap the pen. “you were right about the posters, babe.” “i see.” tom clicks his tongue. paddy scowls at his brother. “i can’t believe you told her,” he grumbles, you handing him the signed photograph. “no, it’s fine! i think it’s really sweet.” his face relaxes. “nevermind, then.” he’s now making heart eyes at you, tom inhaling a sharp breath.

“y/n/n, can i talk to you?” he asks quietly, eyes flitting over to paddy. “in private?” “um, yeah. i’ll be right back, okay?” you tell paddy with an apologetic smile. he shoots you a thumbs up, tom stepping aside so you can leave the room. “mum wants you for dinner in five, actually,” tom corrects. he’s quick to close the door behind him so he doesn’t have to hear complaints.

you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. tom walks up to you cautiously. “what the hell was that?” you squint at him. “i came back with the drinks, and you were gone,” he answers lowly, and not to your satisfaction. “which doesn’t answer my question.” “i… well…” tom huffs childishly. “paddy’s whisked you away! i wanted you to spend the night with my family, yeah?” he sets his hands on your hips.

putting your own hands on both his shoulders, you look at him knowingly. “babe, paddy is your family. there’s nothing wrong with some one on one time.” tom stares down at the floor while rubbing his thumb over your hip. he doesn’t say anything. “so what if he has a little crush on me? he’ll get over it.” you take a step closer to him. “what makes you think that?” tom chews his lower lip.

“he’s just starstruck. and, i’m his future sister in law,” you confidently respond, finally making tom perk up. he exhales a laugh and pulls your body against his, leaving a warm kiss on your forehead. “bonding isn’t such a bad idea after all.” “mm, i told you,” you bury your face in the crook of his neck. paddy leaves his room then, his face falling at the sight in front of him. this time, tom puts his pettiness aside.

“get in here, padster man. we’ve got room for one more.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #tom holland request

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ninjnerd-anaklusmos · 3 years

Text

Time to Commit Crime Brûlèe:

A playlist

Graveyard; Halsey

Partners In Crime; Set It Off, Ash Costello

Play With Fire; Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money

Middle Finger; Bohnes

you should see me in a crown; Billie Eilish

Despicable; grandson

Devil On My Shoulder; Faith Marie

If I Killed Someone For You; Alec Benjamin

Twisted; MISSIO

BLAME IT ON THE KIDS; AViVA

Angry Too; Lola Blanc

Sociopath; StayLoose, Bryce Fox

Saints; Echos

Redemption; Besomorph, Coopex, RIELL

Serial Killer; Moncrieff, JUDGE

Who Am I; Besomorph, RIELL

It's My Party; Obey Me! Boys

Angels Like You; Miley Cyrus

Disturbia; The Sequence

Therefore I Am; Rain Paris

This Little Girl; Cady Groves

PLAYING WITH FIRE; BLACKPINK

Panic Room; Au/Ra

Darkside; grandson

Bordeline; Nico Collins

Cry Baby; American Avenue, Kaile Wolfe

HARLEY FVCKING QUINN; Sarah de Warren, Biometrix, Marcus McCoan

Joke's On You; Charlotte Lawrence

Killer; Valerie Broussard

vicious; Tate McRae

I Did Something Bad; Taylor Swift

This Mountain; Faouzia

Savage; Bahari

Animal I Have Become; Three Days Grace

Boss Bitch; Doja Cat

I'm Gonna Show You Crazy; Bebe Rexha

Nightmare; Halsey

Born Without A Heart; Faouzia

The Best; Future Royalty

jealousy, jealousy; Olivia Rodrigo

Control; Halsey

Walls Could Talk; Halsey

Nightmare; Besomorph, RIELL

Queen; Loren Gray

Dandelion; Gabbie Hanna

Mad Hatter; Melanie Martinez

Like A Vampire; Catrien

Tag, You're It; Melanie Martinez

Super Psycho Love; Simon Curtis

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things; Taylor Swift

Wasabi; Little Mix

brutal; Olivia Rodrigo

One Woman Army; Porcelain Black

good 4 u; Olivia Rodrigo

Bad Bitch; Bebe Rexha, Ty Dolla $ign

RABBIT HOLE; AViVA

Class Fight; Melanie Martinez

Alone; Nico Collins

Liar, Liar; Peyton List

Butterflies; Zendaya

Killing Butterflies; Lewis Blissett

Burned; Grace VanderWaal

Pit Of Vipers; Simon Curtis

Sorry Not Sorry; Demi Lovato

Bad Enough For You; All Time Low

Therefore I Am; Billie Eilish

Dance In The Dark; Au/Ra

Everything Black; Unlike Pluto, Mike Taylor

House Of Memories; Panic! At The Disco

parents; YUNGBLUD

Sarcasm; Get Scared

Bad Word; Panicland

Not Afraid; GJan

Blood // Water; grandson

Let You Down; NF

Bad Child; Tones And I

Kill This Love; Social Repose

Take You To Hell; Ava Max

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing; Set It Off

Cradles; Sub Urban

Vulture, Vulture; Of Monsters And Men

break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored; Ariana Grande

IDGAF; Dua Lipa

Queen of Mean; Sarah Jeffrey

Siren; Kailee Morgue

Teeth; 5SOS

Like Lovers Do; Hey Violet

Paranoia; Neoni

Bad Blood; Taylor Swift

Dead Girl! (Shake My Head); Au/Ra, Faith Maire

no body, no crime; Taylor Swift, HAIM

Anxiety; Besomorph, The Tech Thieves

EVIL; AViVA

Hostage; Besomorph, RIELL

Here Comes Trouble; Neoni

Lie To Me; RIELL

WICKED; AViVA

Reaper; Glaceo, RIELL

Not Your Baby; Cadmium, Jex

Lost In Translation; Besomorph, Veronica Bravo

Eat You Alive; Cadmium, Skrybe, RIELL

Burn The House Down; AJR

Sweet Dreams; Besomorph

Monster; Besomorph

CEMETERY; AViVA

Shameless; Biometrix, Bolshiee

all the good girls go to hell; Billie Eilish

Heaven; Julia Michaels

Lovely; Midsplit, No-One, bhea, A-SHO

Dancing With The Devil; Alter

STFD; TeZAtalks

911; Ellise

Keep It To Myself; Ellise

On Accident; Nico Collins

Crash; Neovaiii

Ghost; Nic Collins

Venom; Icon For Hire

Burning House; Nico Collins

That's the playlist! Thank you for checking it out! Feel free to send in an ask with a suggestion for this playlist, as I feel it might be missing something.

#spotify playlist #playlist #villain vibes #spotify playlists #good vibes #enimies to friends to lovers to enimies #then back to lovers #on again off again relationships #Spotify

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duskholland · 4 years

Note

mile high club with tom ? & maybe you’re traveling with the boys so when u get back to your seats they’re all grossed out

18+ !!!! contains nsfw material. extended warnings beneath the cut.

warnings: unprotected plane sex. please practise safe sex!! condoms act as barriers against STIs as well as unplanned pregnancy.

------------

You don’t know how it happens. One moment you’re sitting up in first class, making dangerous eye contact with Tom, the next he’s got you crammed into the plane's bathroom, bent over the sink, with his hot hands roaming all over your body.

“Shit, shit,” you murmur, biting back a low groan as you feel the hard line of his member tracing through your slit. Tom smirks at you, and you watch his reflection in the mirror as he drags his needy lips up and down your neck, kissing you roughly. You grind down against his cock and moan softly as you get some delicious pressure against your clit. “Tom, we don’t have much time.”

“I know.” His hand moves down and he guides the tip of his flushed cock to rest against your entrance. “Bend over a bit more for me, darling? There you are.” When you’ve arched your back about as far as possible in the tight cubicle, Tom spreads your thighs wider and enters you in a final, slick thrust. Your fingers curl around the rim of the sink as you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as the feeling of him filling you so completely brings you bounds of pleasure.

“You can move,” you tell him breathlessly. Tom hums in response, and then he’s got one hand on the mirror and the other on your hip, and he’s holding you in place as he starts to fuck you. His pace is quick but fulfilling, and when you bend over further you cry out as you feel the head of his cock press up against your spongy inner walls. “Holy shit-”

“Quiet, darling,” he hushes, gripping your hip a little harder. “Don’t want the whole plane to know what we’re doing in here, do we?”

You whimper out a small response, your thoughts garbled. “S’rry, just feels so fucking good.”

When Tom’s hand wraps around your front and goes to play with your clit, it becomes even harder to stay under control.

“I know,” he mutters. The sound of slapping skin fills the small bathroom as he ruts into you desperately, his member stretching you out. “Bloody love feeling your pussy, love. So fucking tight for me. You’re gonna make me come.” He’s all raspy and intense, and it draws your climax nearer. When he rolls your tender bud between his fingers, you have to bring one of your hands to your face so you can bite on your fist to stop yourself from screaming out.

“Shit, T-Tom, I’m gonna come.”

“Let go, darling. Let me feel you.”

Your orgasm explodes through you, dousing you in a hot buzz of pleasure as you squirm against the sink. Tom fucks you through it, his thrusts becoming sporadic as you feel his hot seed fill you up. His hand slips from the mirror and grabs at the sink as he curses lowly, his fingers continuing to fondle your clit until you’re spent and whimpering.

“Shit,” you mutter, throwing your head back and stretching out your back when Tom slips out from you. You glance down at the mess between your legs before glaring up at your boyfriend. “Always so messy, aren’t you?”

Tom grins. He’s quick to grab a few tissues, and he passes some to you before tending to his own member and tucking it back in his jeans.

“I’ll go out first. Wait a few minutes so no one gets suspicious,” he suggests. You give him a short nod, biting your lower lip sceptically.

“Are you sure no one noticed you following me in here?”

Tom looks considerably more guilty than he had when you’d asked him the first time, right before he’d bent you over the sink.

“Harrison… might have looked a little bit suspicious,” Tom says, testing the waters. When your eyes widen, he’s quick to throw his hands up in the air and add, “I’m sure he doesn’t know, though! They’ve got brilliant soundproofing on these planes, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” You hiss, but you end the words with a short laugh, and you peck his lips softly. “Send me a message when it’s safe to come out.” Thank you, free first-class wifi...

Tom nods his head, and he fixes his hair before slipping around you and over to the door. “See you on the other side,” he replies cheekily, and then he gives you a short wave before sliding out from the cubicle.

You wait a painstaking amount of time for his text, and when you receive his messages, you groan loudly.

Tom: so they know

Tom: you should probably come out now

Tom: we’re never hearing the end of this

It’s very hard to avoid looking at Harrison, Harry, and Sam, but somehow you manage to get back into your seat without dissolving into embarrassment. You sit opposite Tom, drawing your arms over your chest as you glare at him pointedly.

Harrison’s the first to crack. “You dirty bastards,” he says. When you shift your powerful stare onto him, he raises his hands in the air. “You can’t even argue because I’m right-”

“Shut up, Haz,” you snap.

“You know, if you thought you were being inconspicuous, you really failed,” Harry chimes in, earning a glare from Tom. “Seriously, like... You guys could’ve at least tried to be discreet about it.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Tom says.

Sam just smirks, eyes dancing with amusement. “Who would’ve known you’re both so kinky-”

He gets a pillow thrown in his face, and then you reach down and pull up the divider which helpfully obscures their obnoxious, teasing faces. Your attention shifts back onto your boyfriend, who just shrugs sheepishly.

“You have to admit it was worth it, though,” Tom says, finally breaking the silence.

You sigh, but you’re forced to nod your head in agreement.

“Feels pretty good to join the mile high club, I guess,” you resolve, your lips quirking into a grin when Tom wiggles his eyebrows.

“Damn straight.”

#final one of the night !#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #blurb night #myblurbs #tomblurbs #Anonymous #tom.filth #smut

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delabor · 3 years

Text

☠ — headcanon:: @soulstcne wrote a fantasti c prompt

okay but like. in any series or movie, like any screen adaptation, how do you imagine your character would be introduced? like. hela steps through a terrifying portal into the planet, then breaks mjolnir and yeets her brothers out of the bifrost. kaz brek.ker uses the tip of his cane to stop jesper from pocketing the money at the casino table while offering some sharp advice. but if you could create, or recreate, the perfect entrance scene for your muse in their series or movie, what would it be?

supernatural; after gadreel left sam as a vessel. reapers taking preemptive souls; perhaps late season 9 to stop metatron; or some other ongoing crisis.

castiel; with frown: there’s an angel that has recently left hell and been heard to be back on earth. he might be able to help with (ongoing crisis.). an archangel. winchester brother: he just l e f t h e l l ? (implication of working with enemy; killing people; etc.) castiel; frowning further; thoughtful: his work is quite distinctive. i would know if he were involved.

decided; they use a scrying spell to track location ; summoning is either unsuccessful or untested & unexplained. (commercial break) with a lock on location; all arrive at a busy night club. “t h i s is where an angel is?” winchester brother asks; face painted in neon light. some quips about location; patrons with short dresses & remarks about how u s e f u l the angel would be if they’re hanging out here. castiel’s staring at his scrying compass. may get in right away; or bit about not getting past the bouncer & having to break in through back door. scrying leads through crowds; music to door. everyone pauses. camara zoom ; it’s a restroom. shot of glancing at each other; then entering. restroom is busy; crowds of (men or women) slowly clear somewhat; compass points to occupied stall; walls rattling; obscene suggestive noises; brief. castiel: perturbed. sam: uncomfortable; glancing around room at other people. dean: visibly confused. door slams open; everyone jumps. flirting; drunk; talking overloud to woman in stall; samael stumbles out; as if having leaned on flimsy lock. catches himself on edge of open door; camera shot from shoulders up; back of head; hair tousled. laugh; slight stumble; turn; starting to do up jeans. pauses with hands on undone fly; surprise.

samael: castiel?

pan to castiel; looks as if he may be regretting this decision already. winchester brothers look over at each other; slow. (commercial break)

fade in; samael sitting in motel chair; beside table; rickety; afront five or six wrapped hamburgers & one takeout cup of soda. eats enthusiastically; moans; chews. wide stance on small chair. wearing sunglasses inside? at night? winchester brothers have arms crossed; one or both is scowling. castiel; tired. (left to audience: how they changed location; how he got the food)

samael: m m, thanks for the grub. real tight, hits the spot. forgot my wallet on the other side (cheeky) dean: yeah, what gives? i thought angels weren’t supposed to eat. samael: i thought you were supposed to be taller, but sometimes things happen. dean; insulted: e x c u s e m e ? samael: excuse you. (takes off sunglasses) you’re excused. i’m not here for you anyway. sam; suspicious & before dean can cut in: oh yeah? who are you here for? samael; waving food: castiel. my new favorite brother. castiel: we’ve never met. samael: and? sam: you’re here to kill him? samael: what? no. i’m here to get fashion tips. the coat is sick. (sarcasm) someone: (explains problem) you need to help us with (crisis) samael; laugh: yeah, no. i’m not doing that. dean: why the hell not? samael; squint: i don’t feel like it, big shot. i’m on vacation. and very busy. dean: you were in a n i g h t c l u b . samael: if you just left hell wouldn’t you want to get some? it’s smelly down there. and everyone’s complaining about their hellfire burns. sam: you’re an archangel, it’s your responsibility. samael: do i look like i give a fart? someone: (righteous speech) samael; interrupting with loud noises from nearly empty cup: r i g h t. let’s put it this way, y o u were born to be vessels, h e was created to be a soldier for the big poopah. if you want to step up and be bitch boy for all time destiny then maybe i’ll take up my mantle. but until then i think i’m good. (stands; stuffing burgers into pockets) if this is all i’m going to go. if you ever want to party mindlessly i’m down, but if you’re not drinking and wenching i’m busy. my phone’s on do not disturb. samael: (flies off) dean: (goes off about how that was a waste of time)

plot is eventually saved ; either by castiel who meets samael one to one & gets information of him with tit for tat ; or by the cup he left he’d been drinking out of. resemblance between he & sam goes unmentioned for long enough the fans start to despair. brought up by sam in later episode ; samael claims doesn’t see a resemblance & frankly he’s insulted sam would presume to compare himself to an angel. sam leaves; annoyed. bystander asks if that’s really the case & samael explains ancestry & admits to only saying that to get a rise. it’s not mentioned again.

#{ i've thought abou t this & it got long :x the first & only keep reading link on my blog }#{ may take it out later when it won't eat up dash :> }#::headcanon::#{ this could be the main meeting for pre established :> if anyone want s }#::drabble::

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

Text

French Press

Sam Wilson has a crush on two things: good coffee and you

Pairing: EMT!Sam Wilson x Nurse!Reader

Word Count:1.981

Warnings: bad words, probably bad descriptions of medical professions and f l u f f

A/N: This is my submission to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan @littledarlinhavefaithinme "Little Darlin's Mystery AU Challenge". Thank you Clea for hosting this challenge! My prompt was EMT/paramedic featuring Sam Wilson. Many thanks to the only person lovelier than Captain America - Dani @xbuchananbarnes who kindly kept up with me rambling on and on about this for weeks. The banner picture was found here. I hope you like it ♡

Sam Wilson was having a really bad day.

He had slept in, having missed his alarm by well over forty minutes, and when his - goddamned, motherfucking, idiotic - roommate Bucky started banging on the door warning that they were going to be late, Sam rose in a flash, tripping on the strewn covers and stubbing his left pinky toe on the foot of the bed. Howling in pain, he half-entered, half-fell in the shower, scrubbing himself as fast as he could while muttering curses under the cold water.

The temperature was just warming up when he got out, only to realize he forgot to get a towel from the clean laundry basket. Trusting that drying himself off with a face towel was less humiliating than asking Bucky for a regular one - even if it meant going over his legs five times - Sam lost even more precious minutes, having to forgo his beloved french-pressed coffee in order to get to the hospital on time. Barnes could be a dick sometimes, but he was the best ambulance driver in the city, and, right now, Sam’s only hope.

Only they were not on the ambulance yet, and New York City's traffic didn't make way for Bucky's old Camaro - "It's vintage!" - the way it did for first responders. So when the tires screeched in front of Brooklyn General and the two friends rushed to the ER, they were greeted by the displeased face of their supervisor, Maria Rambeau.

"Please come in" she said in mock welcome. "I'm sure emergencies can wait for the princesses to get their beauty sleep."

And because anything in life that can go wrong will go wrong, you happened to pass by precisely as Sam was spilling out apology after apology. From the corner of his eye, he saw you stifling a laugh as you ducked behing Maria to get to the women’s rest room.

That was Monday.

Late evening blended into early morning and Sam found himself in the hospital cafeteria, upper body slumped on a chair and legs stretched in another. He always found it funny how healthcare professionals were usually the ones with the most unhealthy habits - like the irregular sleeping habits and the copious amount of bad coffee. Still, over and over again he took refuge on beige walls of the cafeteria, trying to find a modicum of rest between calls.

So far, the night had brought in an amateur archer with a cracked rib and a teenager with a allergic reaction to spiders. All in all, not a bad 24-hour shift.

Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the shutters when you walked in with Carol Danvers, another nurse. Your scrubs were rumpled and there was a dot of smudged mascara under your eyes. A thin line streamed your cheek from where the surgical mask sat and he was sure your hands were dry and scratchy from the latex gloves just like his were. Even so, to Sam, you were as beautiful as you did when you arrived yesterday morning, if only for the twinkled of mischief he could still catch in your gaze.

Next to him, Bucky snickered.

“You’re so whipped.”

That was Tuesday.

The first time you saw each other outside the hospital, it was a coincidence.

Sam turned left at the coffee aisle and there you were - almost unrecognizable in legging pants and a cap, bopping to a song he couldn’t hear on your earphones. You looked worlds away from the capable nurse he knew you were, staring absentmindedly at the rows of grains, weighing different options on each hand.

He couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the familiar white packaging on your right palm or the way the black pants hugged your calves and thighs in a soft curve your scrubs could never achieve. Somehow, finding you in the domestic setting of the local grocery store brought the words out of Sam’s lips, past lungs and vocal cords, toppling the insecurity that lived at the tip of his tongue.

“The Colombian one is great,” he blurted out.

Your removed an earbud, then the other. Your confused frown morphed into the most beautiful stretch of lips when you recognized the tall man at the end of the aisle.

“Hey,” you beamed. “I know you.”

I know you.

“From the hospital,” you quickly explained yourself, not knowing you didn’t have to. “You're Sam, right?”

On the inside, he was hyperventilating.

Oh my God, she knows me.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Sam Wilson.”

Two steps forward and he was close enough to extend his arm. The handshake was brief and polite, but thrilling. Sam sensed the gentle caress of your palm on every nerve ending of his body. He was wrong yesterday: your hands were so soft it felt as though you'd never once wore latex gloves.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said and damn it sounded so much better coming from your mouth rather than someone else’s. “Since you’re a friend, do you think you can help me understand this coffee?”

Friend. Friend. Cool. Helping a friend at the grocery store. He could do that. Friend. Get it together, Wilson.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Well, I use a French Press, so if that’s your thing I’d suggest a medium or dark roast. That one is one of my favorites,” he pointed to the small white bag you were still holding in the cradle of your elbow.

“Oh wow, you’re a pro,” you laughed. “I don’t think I can operate anything more complicated than a coffee bag.”

Sam raised his eyebrows.

“A coffee bag? Really? That’s like a crime against coffee!”

You giggled, carefree, melodious and slightly embarrassed, like the first warm breeze after a long winter, still shy and oblivious to her greatness.

“In my defense, I’ve been trying to get better,” you claimed. “I don’t think I can survive much longer with the cafeteria coffee as my standard.”

“You’re right about that,” Sam said. Then, in a push of his good luck, he added. “Hey, if you want you can borrow my book on coffee recipes. When’s your next shift?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you replied. “And thank you! Are you sure you won’t need your book?”

“Not at all!” he shook his head. “Besides, it would a crime to let you keep using those coffee bags.”

And there it was again, the laugh. He could keep hearing it forever.

There was a pause, then. That awkward silence in the middle of a sentence when someone wishes they could say more but they don't know how to. It's child's play all over again, from the itch at the tip of the fingers to the flutter in the stomach. In a few moments of quiet, everything is a lot - emotions are too intense, too noisy and too much, toppling over careful overthought expectations of an infatuated heart.

He saves the memory of your smile, willing it to be good fortune, read from coffee grounds sitting on a an empty cup.

“Ok, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.”

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

That was Wednesday.

He found you at the nurses’ station.

Standard green scrubs, hair out of your face, glasses on the bridge of your nose. There was a pink stain on your middle finger from the neon pen you used to highlight patient’s prontuary.

He’d never seen you in glasses before and something about them made his heart beat faster.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, fingers drumming the countertop in a nervous tick disguised as smooth greeting.

“Oh. Hey, Sam, ” you offered. Next to you, Carol Danvers looked like the cat that ate the canary. “How are you?”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “What about you? Committing any coffee sins recently?”

“I’ll let you know my coffee bags are safe and healthy, thank you very much,” you grinned and laughter bubbled from him in easy breaths of adoration.

“Here,” Sam slid a small rectangular to you. “The recipe book I promised you.”

You held it to your chest like a precious gift and he crumbled, tiny pieces of man falling apart in earth-shattering joy.

“Thank you so much,” you said. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Please,” Sam whispered, either to you or to himself, he wasn’t sure. “Please do.”

That was Thursday.

It took Bucky a lot of convincing, but he eventually let Sam take the Camaro.

"Never call her old again, ya hear me?" he complained. "Not when she's helping you get your girl."

Sam was going to call it something a lot worse if he didn’t manage to find a place to park soon.

On it’s defense, it was Friday night on Fulton Street. Chances of finding a parking space were little to none, even if you were a man with a crush and a nice car. So when he finally reaches you, looking pretty in a dress under the artificial light of a café, he’s just a little breathless from racing down three blocks.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed and you beamed, brighter than the signboard, or his headlights or the first twinkling star shining through the foggy city sky.

“Hey,” you said. “I thought you’d bailed on me.”

“Never,” he breathed out. “I just… Idrovemybestfriendscartoimpressyoubuttherewasnoparkingspace.”

“What?”

“I wanted to impress you, so I borrowed my friend’s car,” he admitted. “Only there was no parking space, so I had to go around the block a few times.”

Relief flooded from you and your shoulders visibly relaxed - but not enough.

The text came ungodly early, in an hour that most people would consider impolite, but not you and definitely not him. In your line of work, odd hours were just regular hours.

Hey Sam, it’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from an EMT named Steve. He said he’s your friend. Anyway, there’s this café in Bed-Stuy that’s doing a “French Press Festival”. I don’t know what that means but I thought maybe you’d like to come. With me. Like friends, of course. To honor good coffee.

He said yes of course. Perhaps more than once.

“I have something to confess, too,” you said. “I thought you’d found out about it and that’s why you didn’t show.”

Sam froze.

“I’m not a coffee newbie,” you admitted. “I actually know a lot about it. But when we met at the supermarket you seemed so enthusiastic… And honestly, I’d tried to find so many excuses to talk to you at the hospital but I was embarrassed - you make me nervous!”

And nervous you were, fingers twisting each other in a painful, agitated grip.

“I didn’t want to ruin the first good opportunity I got by saying that I knew the Colombian coffee was awesome, and yes, coffee bags should be banned from the face of the planet.”

There are moments that define a boy's heart. Shape it like more than muscle and blood, with something akin to manhood. Sam Wilson was grown - long limbs, tall frame and brave heart - but something in your presence screamed schoolyard crush and teenage fever at him. Like a toddler learning to walk or a boy tasting love for the first time. Like an adult discovering that some things feel better when they speed through older veins.

Sam’s smile was an earthquake - shattering the ground and dismantling structures in its wake. It rattled the five feet keeping you apart, pushing your bodies forward finally.

“I must say I was a little disappointed when you mentioned coffee bags,” he stated. Then he opened the café door and mentioned you forward. “But not as disappointed as I’ll be if say you’ll prefer Chemex over French Presses.”

You grinned and maybe Sam’s fortune was read before the coffee was poured.

“I guess you’re in luck, Mr. Wilson.”

That was Friday.

That was the beginning.

#ldamc #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x female reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #corneliabarnes #my writing

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moonshineholland · 4 years

Text

Never Let Me Go / T.H. x reader

R E Q U E S T: Hi! Saw that you’re taking requests and i was thinking maybe i could get some imagine? One where tom took his stress out on his girlfriend causing them to have this huge fight the night before they have to spend time with both of their families and of course, the whole family knows something’s wrong because both of them are not in the mood and the two mothers of both sides decides to talk to them separately and then making them make up? Thank youuuu in advance! Hope you can see this! 🥰

A/N: It’s been so long since I've actually sat down to right something so I hope this is half decent! Shoutout to @cumholland for reading through this and helping me out💖

W A R N I N G S: Kinda angsty, I guess you could interpret the ending as being a little suggestive *wiggles eyebrows*😂

W O R D • C O U N T: 2.8k

The silence in the car was killing you and you were 99.9% sure it was killing Tom too. The atmosphere was tense, even as you pretended to be busy counting the trees, but neither of you were planning on being the first to apologise, you’d gone all morning hardly uttering a word to each other and you weren’t about to give in and be nice to him, especially with the way he had treated you this morning.

You’d both woken up when Tom’s alarm went off at 7:30. Usually, he’d wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder, yet today there wasn’t even a “good morning darling” which, of course, stung. Tom rolled out of bed and you just pulled the covers up further, staring at the wardrobe as he got ready, you thought about turning over whilst he was picking his clothes out but then you realised just how petty that would be so you averted your gaze, the wall suddenly becoming much more interesting.

“We’re leaving in an hour.” And with that, Tom had left the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. You could feel the tears prickling your waterline, the first thing he’d said to you in over twelve hours and it couldn’t have sounded more bitter, like he didn’t want to go, especially not with you. You sighed, throwing back the covers and trudging into the bathroom, coming to stand in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. Normally you'd be stood with a smile on your face, having just shared some loving moments with him before forcing yourselves to get up, you’d brush your teeth in a comfortable silence, sneaking side-eye glances at him that he would always, always catch, wiggling his eyes brows at you before turning to rest his back against the counter. This morning you brushed your teeth alone, sadness hanging in the air.

You made the bed, picking up the stray cushions that were strewn across the floor, they’d usually get stacked neatly to one side before the two of you got into bed but not last night, last night you’d thrown them angrily, not caring where they landed just so long as you could curl up in bed and fall asleep before Tom came up. The sun was shining when you opened the curtains, a pleasant change from the gloom of yesterday, it gave you hope that you would still have a good weekend at the beach house, with both of your families, regardless of whether you and Tom were on speaking terms or not.

Sifting through your side of the wardrobe you decided on your favourite red sundress, decorated with tiny daisies and frills underneath the bust, one of Tom’s favourite dresses, not that you were dressing for his pleasure. You grabbed your denim jacket from the back of the door and your small suitcase, taking one final glance at the picture of the two of you that sat on the desk, it was taken on a double date, you’d scooped some whipped cream from your milkshake onto the tip of his nose, his mouth hanging open and feigning shock, whilst you were caught mid laugh, you never laughed as hard as you did when you were with him.

You made your way downstairs, lingering on the middle steps. You still had twenty minutes left, did you really want to sit in an uncomfortable silence with your boyfriend? But you definitely needed a drink so you continued your decent, breezing right past Tom, who was watching the football highlights and into the kitchen. Coffee brewed, you sat at the kitchen table scrolling through instagram, pretty much losing track of time as you came to the end of your drink. You hadn’t had any breakfast and you knew that if you rushed to make something it would only piss Tom off even more, so you picked up a banana, you’d eat it in the car.

“You’re not eating that in my car.” He’d noticed the banana in your hand straight away, almost as if he was waiting to find something to start an argument about. You didn't even know whether to respond, at first you thought he was joking but when he walked out of the house, not even offering to take your bags, you knew you wouldn’t even be getting the chance to retaliate. That was enough to turn your sombre mood into that of a sour one and without even thinking twice you threw the banana through the kitchen door, straight at the unsuspecting washing machine.

And now here you were, driving to Cornwall, hungry and slightly angry, hangry. Tom had never really cared too much about you eating in his car just so long as you were careful and, considering you weren’t a child anymore, you generally did a really good job of keeping your food in your mouth and not anywhere else. Yes, Tom had gotten his car cleaned a couple of days ago but that had never meant you couldn’t eat a measly banana in there, he was doing it just to spite you and you hated it. When did the two of you ever get like this? Yeah you’d ‘bicker’ here and there but it never lasted more than ten minutes and always ended in an apology.

About an hour into the trip you’d popped your headphones on. The quietness of the car was getting to be too much, so you’d decided that listening to some of your favourite songs would put you in a better mood, hopefully. It certainly helped to pass the time because before you knew it you’d pulled up to the row of beach houses and before you even had time to register that you were here, Tom was out of the car and already making his way inside with his bags, having tossed the car keys onto your lap, he obviously didn’t feel like waiting for you to struggle stuffing your headphones into your backpack. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closing so as to stop those pesky tears yet again, thinking about the time the two of you spent here last year.

Last year was your first time at the beach houses, having only been with Tom for four months, he’d invited you so that he could spend his time off with both you and his family, it had been the most amazing three days. You spent the evenings cuddled up next time him on an outdoor daybed, drinking wine and combing your fingers through his hair, having known just how jam-packed his schedule had been, it was nice to see him relax, enjoying the company of his family and even though he knew he’d be back to work soon he never dwelled on those thoughts. On your last evening in Cornwall you'd stayed awake until everyone else had gone to bed, staring up at the stars and finishing off the last of your rosé, he’d buried his face in your hair and whispered, “I love you.”

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the footwell and opening the car door, you thought about getting your bags from the boot, but ultimately decided that you really couldn’t be bothered, all you wanted was to go and lie down, the bags could wait until later. With the car locked you made your way inside, your mum quick to pull you into a hug, seeing her face provided you with a sense of relief and you let out a sigh, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. It was Nikki’s idea to have your family come down to Cornwall this year, she knew how much you were missing everyone since moving in with Tom, it was such a sweet gesture that you had cried when she told you she’d arranged everything with your mum.

“What’s wrong?” your mum was sure to keep her voice down, making sure only you heard as she still held you in her arms.

“Nothing.” You mumbled.

“Come on, a mother can always tell when there’s something wrong with her child.” She wasn’t letting up but you really didn't have the energy to talk about it.

“Why don’t you ask him.”

“Trouble in paradise?” She pulled away slightly but still kept one arm around your shoulder, both of you watching on as your dad was busy chatting with Tom and Dom.

“I guess you could say that.” You sighed, a deep sigh that came from the bottom of your lungs. You wanted to be stood with Tom, resting your head on his shoulder. You wished it was like last year, full of love, excitement and lust. Looks like the honeymoon period is over, huh?

Nikki’s voice cut through everyone's chatting as she stood with the keys to the houses, explaining who would be staying where along the row of beach houses. Harry, Sam and Paddy had their own place, next to them Nikki and Dom and your parents had decided to share a house and yours and Tom’s house was just a little walk away. No-one had really noticed that anything was wrong with either of you until Nikki had handed Tom the key to your place, watching as you approached him without a word, without even a smile and took the key out of his hands. You picked up his bags and headed for the front door, as much as you loved spending time with his family and as much as you missed yours, it was all a bit overwhelming and kind of painful, the majority of the people in the room were related to Tom, you really just needed to get out of there and catch your breath.

“Where are you going?” Tom’s voice followed you outside, closing the wooden door behind him as he stepped onto the path.

“To our place.” There was more you wanted to say but kept it to yourself, you didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You did want him to, deep down but you couldn’t let him think everything had blown over just because you were in your little paradise.

“No,” you weren’t looking at him, your eyes were focused on the beach, the soft waves that lapped against the shore, but you could practically see the frown on his face. It made you feel bad instantly. “I’m gonna go for a lie down, so there wouldn’t be much conversation anyway.” You looked back at him over your shoulder, forcing a half smile onto your face before heading to the house.

•••

Tom had been trying to distract himself since you’d left, fiddling with his phone in his hands whilst he tried his best to pay attention to his brothers’ conversation about their game of golf last week, something he’d usually be very interested in but all he could think about is whether he should text you, make sure you’re ok. He looked up at the sunset, thinking back to last year when the two of you had no worries. You’d sit outside for hours and hours laughing and chatting and then he’d watch your face light up in awe at the pretty colours that spread across the sky, lifting your phone to capture a picture.

“Tom?” His mothers’ voice eventually caught his attention as she peered her head through the sliding glass doors, “can I borrow you for a second?” He stood up, sliding his phone into the pocket of his dark wash jeans, grabbing his beer from the table as he made his way inside, following his mum into the living room. He sat across from his mum and yours and he was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“What’s going on?”

He sighed, sinking down further into his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I-, I’ve been a dick,” he said with an even bigger sigh. “We had an argument last night, it’s my fault, I’d had a really shitty day at work and I took it out on her, which I know is no excuse and I don’t know, we were pretty horrible to each other.”

“And have you apologised?”

He shook his head, looking down, almost as if he was ashamed. His mum had always told him that no matter what, he should never go to bed on a argument and last night he did. Not only did he feel like he’d let you down but his mum as well and yours. “I guess I was just being too stubborn,” he scoffed, taking a swig of his beer, his eyes diverting to the kitchen.

“Tom,” your mum started, “if there’s anything I can tell you about her, it’s that she loves you more than anything, she never bloody shuts up about you!” that made him smile as he looked down, a compliment that filled his heart with warmth. “She’s told me a million times that all she ever wants is for you to hold her and never let go, she’s never said that about anyone,” your mum had tears in her eyes, “so please don’t let go, especially over something so trivial.”

She was right, in the grand scheme of things it was trivial, sure both of you might’ve said some mean things but Tom knew it was definitely in the heat of the moment, he’d come in and taken his stress out on you, which wound you up, it was only fair you’d be angry but he missed you. Not talking to you all day or holding your hand or kissing you had really taken it’s toll on him, he felt ten times more stressed than he did yesterday.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, to both mums, he truly appreciated their intervention. He had worried about whether he’d let his stubbornness take over, he’d wondered just how long it’d go on for, would he be sleeping next to you tonight? Or on the couch?

He pulled out his phone, he wanted you to come over here, spend time with everyone but he knew what he had to do first. He started typing out the message:

Please come over, we need to talk, miss you xx

•••

You’d been sitting at the kitchen table doing absolutely nothing but drinking a cup of tea when Tom’s text flashed up on your phone and you’d be lying if you said that you didn't smile at it. It was finally going to be over, you hoped. Surely you couldn’t argue anymore, right? You finished off the rest of your cup before slipping on your shoes and rummaging through Tom’s bag that you’d discarded on the couch earlier, pulling his pale blue hoodie out and shoving it on.

When you entered the house you were met with complete silence, you assumed everyone was in the garden but when you entered the kitchen you saw him sat there with his head in his hands. At the sound of your footsteps and your hand on his back he bolted up. “H-hey.” His voice was soft, you could tell he’d been crying. You let your hand trail from his back, down his arm and to his hand, letting him pull you gently into his lap, wrapping your arm around his neck as you perched. He looked up at you, his eyes red and puppy-like. “I’m so sorry darlin,” his voice broke slightly as he pulled at the strings of his hoodie, the smallest of smiles making it’s way onto his face as he noticed you were wearing his Suspicious Antwerp hoodie.

“No I'm sorry, I should’ve just understood that you’d had a hard day and let it go.” You apologised.

“But how were you to know? I shouldn’t have had such an attitude on me,” he brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your cheek delicately “I love you and I don’t ever want to let go of you.” He mumbled, looking intently into your eyes. “Well, we’ve missed the sunset, so how about, we take this bottle of wine,” he leant forward and picked it up off the table, it was your favourite, “and have a bath? And I'll make it up to you, let you know just how sorry I really am.” His lips were pressed delicately against the skin under your ear, the hand that wasn’t holding the bottle of wine was rubbing soft circles on your skin under his hoodie.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know, please never let me go.”

#feedback appreciated!#tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland moodboard #moonshineholland writes #moonshineholland fic #moonshineholland moodboards

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thewondersofsmut · 5 years

Text

Happy Ending

Request: Hi sorry to bother u but can u do a deanxreader where reader has back pains and dean offers to give her a massage, and he sits on her lower back/butt area and it turns into something more. Thanks! I understand if u can't write it b/c u prob get a Lotta requests. – Anon

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, smut

Word Count: 1873

A/N: I’m back! And Im posting a few fics today! Feedback is loved!

Masterlist

“Son of a bitch,” You groaned, pressing your free hand to your lower back, and swinging your machete to your other shoulder. “You good there, (y/n)?” You looked up to Dean, dragging the vampire’s dead body to the pile. “Peachy.” You faked a smile. Dean couldn’t stop his body from reacting to the noises you elicited, his hips jerking forward. “What’s up?” He asked, being better at expressing his feelings of concern towards you, not that he didn’t care, he always assumed that getting too close to you could cost your life, but you had quickly proven that trusting and expressing to each other would be good, considering that you’ve saved his life multiple times.

“Just some back ache, comes with aging,” You joked, making him chuckle. “We should head back, Sammy’s gunna need meds, I promised to pick some up for him.” Your voice sounded hoarse. “I think we should get something for you, maybe some muscle patches too?” Dean suggested, shrugging. You couldn’t help but smile. He’s gotten better at showing he cared, a lot. It also helps that you know of his tiny crush on you. More like large, according to Sam, ever since your first encounter with them as you saved them. “Yeah, he hasn’t gotten sick in a while.” Dean affirmed and you both trotted to baby after setting the bodies aflame.

Dean always glanced at you as a whine escapes your parted lips, your hand trying to alleviate pressure from your back as you sat. You promptly twisted your upper body, grounding your feet and you heard the satisfying cracklings of your spine. You did it on the opposite side and you side, a little bit of the pain leaving your body. “Holy shit, (y/n), is that even safe?” He asked, stunned. You giggled, another sound he loved to hear. “It helps.” You winked and he chuckled, focusing on the road once again.

You had dropped by the pharmacy, got a lot of necessities, medicine, and first aid and all that to stock up the bunker, your new found home. After Dean getting a slice of pie, you were both heading back.

You and Dean brought all your stuff inside and Sam was in the library, on his laptop with a blanket draped around his back. “Hey Sammy,” You greeted, acquiring Dean’s nickname for him early on. You were two years older than him and he’d looked up to you as a sister, even though he still found himself being like an ‘over protective brother’ to you too. “Hey guys, how was the hunt?” He asked. “Totally good.” You replied, your smile turning sour when you bent down to put your bag down. “Are you hurt?” Sam immediately asked, pushing his chair back to stand up.

“No—no, I must’ve pulled something in my back, just gettin’ old,” You joked and he chuckled.

“You’re not old.” Dean snickered, playfully rolling his eyes. “Feels like it.” You scrunched your face and the brothers laughed. “I’m going to shower.” You announced and Dean decided to make soup for the three of you, most especially his sick brother. “You’re ogling her.” Sam teased, smirking at his brother. Dean scoffed. “Am not.” “If you say so.” Sam teased and Dean ran for the kitchen.

After letting hot water run down the expanse of your back for another minute, you stepped out of the shower, wiping down your whole body, putting on some loose jumper and some shorts. You went back to the library just as Dean was bringing a bowl of hot soup to Sam, who thanked him. “Eat up, sweetheart, this should help you too.” He grinned you murmured a thank you, before sitting down. “I think you two should rest and the three of us can do a case once you’re all better.” You said.

Sam smiled. “Don’t you like hunting with me? Like we used to back when Sam was in Stanford?” Dean pouted and you thought that was the cutest thing ever. You giggled and Sam’s smile grew wide. “I do, Dean, but I’m having issues with my back, and I know you’re pretty beaten up too, a couple of days isn’t gunna hurt.” You smiled and his pout went away. “How ‘bout I make pie tomorrow for us to enjoy?” You asked and he grinned. “Bribery accepted.” He hummed and you and the younger Winchester chuckled.

After the light dinner, you helped Sam out in the translation he was well occupying himself whilst being sick as Dean offered to clean up. The hours ticked by fast, Sam heavily asleep with the medication he’d taken. You were doing a bit of stretching when Dean passed by your bedroom. He arched an eyebrow, his eyes slowly looking at the expanse of your legs and the exposed skin by your hips with the jumper hanging low. “You okay there, sweetheart?” Dean asked and you looked up at him. You groaned and stood up. “Just, it’s either my spine’s all fucked up for I have a ton of knots in my back, like those wired earphones.” You scoffed and Dean laugh.

“Would you like me to give you a massage?” His tone had no malice but your brain went to multiple directions. “Yes,” You voiced out before you actually thought of it. You bit your lip and he just gave you a soft smile, entering your room then closing the door behind him. You took off your jumper to reveal a slim bralette you like to wear to sleep.

Dean tried his best not to groan at the sight, it wasn’t the first time he saw you in your underwear, heck, he’d accidentally seen you naked before, as you did to him. “I think I’ve got oil somewhere here,” Your voice cut out his incoherent thoughts and just nodded. You fished it out of your drawer and handed it to him before laying on your stomach on the bed. “’S it okay for me to sit on you?” He asked and you hummed in approval. He did as he suggested, sitting and trying not to put too much weight on your plump ass.

Dean poured a little bit of oil on your back, glistening in the light and he began to press his thumb on your muscles. You tried to bite back a moan but was unsuccessful. He could feel himself twitch at the sound but powered through, going lower on your back until he was massaging the small area between your ass and lower back, squeezing your hips. His hands felt soft despite having rough and calloused edges. The sheets in front of you were bunched up in your fists and you knew you were getting wetter as the seconds passed.

Dean’s hands were going up and down each arm and then back on your shoulders, your neck, then they slowly descended down to your waist. “Fuck, Dean.” You breathed and Dean jolted. He sucked in some air as if gathering some courage and descended to your ass, cupping and squeezing them. He moved towards your legs and started to massage your thighs and legs. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, (y/n).” When he was coming back up to squeeze your backside.

“Fuck, yes, continue.” You shivered at his tone and mumbled against the pillow and he chuckled darkly at how you’re reacting to his touches. His hands continued to massage your body but he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the valley of your shoulder and neck and you moaned, body tingling. You pushed back on your ass, Dean groaning as you brushed against his hardening length. “Fuck, baby.” He shut his eyes, his breath hot on your neck. It spurred you on, grinding up to him and his free hand lands on your hips, tight and warningly.

“Fuck me, Dean.” You whispered, leaning up towards the side where his face was. You moved your head more towards him and he kissed you feverishly. He sat back up, prying your legs open with his hands, this time, slowly running his fingers over your cloth-covered core, your hips bucking in response. Dean hooked his fingers on the waistband of your shorts and underwear, slowly stripping the pieces of clothing off of you, your ass slightly bouncing when it went over them and Dean but his lip, one of his hands grabbing a handful and squeezing. You lifted your hips up and brought your hands up to shimmy off your shorts since Dean got mildly distracted.

He squeezed your inner thigh and you instinctively tried to close them if not for his strong knees stopping them from moving. His fingers ran through your folds teasing your entrance and you couldn’t help but mewl. Dean clenched his jaw and pulled off his shirt. He then worked on your pants and you had to look back, meeting his eyes as you roamed his body. He gave you a boyish smirk and you swore you could come just by that. “You really want this, (y/n)...?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your back, making you shiver, feeling his cock press against your ass.

“Heck yeah, would’ve asked you to massage me a long ass time ago if I knew this would happen.” Your voice was breathy as he started to grind his hips against yours. “Shit, babygirl, wish I’d known, would’ve done it sooner.” He whispered, nibbling on your earlobe, making you wetter by the second. He slowly pushed in, groaning at your tightness. “Fuck.” You pushed back, whimpering when his free hand grabbed your hips and thrusting in fully. “Dean!” You moaned.

He let you adjust before pulling back and slamming back in. “You’re so tight, baby.” He whispered, kissing your cheek. “Fuck me, Dean, please.” “Will do, babygirl.” He grunted and proceeded to pound you. Your moans and his grunts were echoing along the walls and you only hoped Sam was snoring away loud enough not to hear you. You were fisting the sheets in your hands as your hips bucked back to him. His thrusts were fast and erratic and soon enough, it was uneven yet hard enough to make you scream. “Fuck, (y/n), coming—“ He grunted. “Fuck!” You screamed. He felt you clench around his throbbing cock.

“Come for me, babygirl.” He whispered against your ear and you did, moaning out his name along with a string of profanities. He groaned, feeling overwhelmed with your tightness and just as you backed your hip up to him, he came, spilling deeply inside of you. He rode out both your orgasms and slowly lifted himself off of you. You twisted around to lay on your back and he leaned down, kissing you fully. “Are you satisfied with your massage?” He asked with a cocky smirk. You laughed, slapping his chest. “You gotta answer it, (y/n)!” He laughed. “Yes, Dean, it was a very very satisfying happy ending.” You answered with a wink, prompting him to laugh even more.

He leaned down and pecked your lips. “Well that leaves the question, will we finally be together?” He asked. You heart swelled as you leaned up, kissing him tenderly. “Absolutely.” You whispered.

Forever Babies:

@incorrect-quoted @deviljoonie @sallyp-53 @ilovefanfic86 @andkatiethings @malindacath @aunty-peggy @myloveofdean @miss-kristendior @baby7879 @xtina2191 @redsalv20 @hobby27 @fandom-princess-forevermore @jensens-snackles @akshi8278 @shadowkat-83 @onethirstyunicorn

Green-Eyed Lovers:

@brindz30 @polina-93

SPN Babes:

@adoptdontshoppets @lilulo-12

#dean x reader #dean smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #spn smut #supernatural smut #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean #dean winchester

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

Helping Hands - Chapter 5

Series Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Training with Nat doesn’t go as planned, and Fury’s plan is put to the test.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of previous abuse and neglect, minor panic attack

A/N: The gif will make sense. :)

“Okay, stand with your feet about shoulder-width apart, and turn a bit to the side. Yeah, that’s it. Keep your thumbs on the outside of your fists. Now, use the momentum of turning your torso to put some weight behind your fist, and punch through the bag.”

The bandages wrapped over Haley’s knuckles and wrists were uncomfortable with the sweat that slicked over her skin. She couldn’t remember ever exercising, ever having a cause to break a sweat or work so hard in her life. Sure, Steve and Sam were sparring on the other side of the gym, the sounds of their blows deafening, acting as if this was just another day at the office. And for them, it was. But, to someone unused to the strain, it proved a monumental effort to fight the fatigue trembling in her limbs as she delivered punch after punch to the heavy bag that Nat supported from behind.

Haley had healed completely from her adopted wound in the span of several days - not too terribly long considering Loki had stopped her from taking the entirety of Nat’s injury. Natasha, on the other hand, was still taking it easy. Which, for an Avenger, apparently meant settling for running several miles on a treadmill and lifting her body weight in dumbells instead of kicking ass with Clint.

“You can’t walk around in tape all day every day, so it’ll hurt more, when - if, it happens.”

And that little slip-up made Haley’s entire body seize, her throbbing hands spread out against the woven fabric of the bag to tether her to reality. When. When she was going to have to face Mr. Shaw again. That’s what she was preparing for, beating up a bag of sand with arms as thick and tough as overcooked spaghetti.

“Ah shit, Hales, I’m sorry.”

Small fingers clutched hers after she dropped to her knees on the cushioned, sticky mat beneath her. She stared at them, one set littered with callouses and scars, the other flushed, but baby soft and lined with blue-green veins beneath almost translucent skin. Panic constricted around her chest so that it felt like her rapidly drumming heart would burst through her ribcage and tear her struggling lungs into ribbons with the fragments left behind.

“He’s on a mission.”

“If we don’t call him he’s gonna be pissed. You wanna deal with that?”

Cool glass pressed against her ear.

“Are you alright?”

The rough timbre of Loki’s voice didn’t sound quite right through the small speaker of the phone. She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”

An obnoxious tone sounded through the phone, and she tilted her head away from it with a grimace, closing her eyes. Everything was fine. She was in Stark Tower. She was surrounded by friends who would protect her. Mr. Shaw couldn’t reach her here.

“Darling.”

The hands holding hers retreated, replaced in an instant by a warmer, larger pair not a moment later. Deft fingers worked at unraveling the bandages protecting her knuckles. Her eyes opened to see Loki kneeling in front of her, still dressed in his leather armor.

All she could think to mumble out was, “How’d you get here so fast.”

Loki tossed the wrappings away, lifting her chin up with two fingers to thoroughly examine the distraught expression on her face. “Magic.”

The fear slowly seeped out of her at his attentions but she still couldn’t catch her breath or calm her speeding heart. Strangely, she couldn’t help but long to rub away the lines that crinkled between his brows. “You were on a mission. You’ll get in trouble.”

“You needed me.” He stood up and helped her to her feet with his hold on her hands. He didn’t let them go after she was standing, maintaining his firm grip as he led her out of the room. “You need a sports beverage and a snack. It wouldn’t do for you to overwork yourself before this evening.”

Had she overworked herself, or was she destined to feel this terrible regardless of her disastrous session with Nat?

Even with the soothing feeling of makeup smoothing over her skin and a brush running through her hair (there wasn’t much else to do with what little length she had), she couldn’t ignore the anxiety that weighed heavy in the pit of her stomach. It rolled through her and threatened to force itself around the lump in her throat. But practice made perfect, and she’d had years of hiding many a negative emotion and sensation.

“If you don’t stop sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, I’m gonna make you look like a clown.” Nat bopped her cheek lightly with the fluffy end of a makeup brush.

“Sorry.”

A brush painted over her lips in long, soft strokes. “We’ll all keep an eye on you. Fury has backup waiting on the floors just above and below. Even Loki is going to be there. You won’t be alone.”

All those words were meant to reassure her. But when she opened her eyes after shimmying into the dress Wanda had loaned her, she felt anything but confident in how the evening was going to go.

“I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

The crimson dress molded to her skin, dipping down in the back to show a considerable amount of her spine. Lace encased her arms to her wrists and all she wanted to do was tug the sleeves down so she could grasp the material in her palms. She’d never shown so much skin. Did anyone really need to see the lower halves of her thighs? That was hardly her most pressing concern, however, when she factored in her inability to walk in the black heels Nat had helped her wobble into. She felt like a toddler, desperately attempting to balance with each step.

“That’s the point. Come on, the faster we get you out there the faster this is all done with.”

It took every ounce of courage that she had within her to step into the spacious ballroom several floors down from their living quarters. The lights, scattered around the room in glowing columns and hanging from the ceiling in interesting modern fixtures, were just warm enough to contrast the black marble floor and dark walls. The music from the DJ vibrated through her bones to ratchet up her heartbeat until it matched the thudding bass. More people than she had ever seen in her life milled about, either dancing or talking or some combination of the two.

Tony had told her to make sure to be seen by as many people as possible. What did that entail? How was she supposed to act natural, while still making sure she was noticed, when she didn’t even know what ‘natural’ was? She’d never been to a party before!

“Perhaps you should first procure a drink?”

She stopped staring at a stunning woman in a dress that looked to be made out starlight, glancing quickly over at the owner of the naggingly familiar voice. It had sounded just enough like Loki to pique her interest, although there was a softness to the baritone that didn’t quite fit. Nor did the owner of the lovely accented suggestion. The man peering at her through brown, thin-rimmed glasses shot her a mischievous grin. He had auburn hair that curled at the nape of his neck, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache that covered the rosy skin of his jaw.

But the eyes. Even though they were a twinkling light blue, she’d recognize that playful and earnest expression anywhere.

“Loki?”

He closed the remaining distance between them, steering her toward one of the many bars set up around the edges of the room with a gentle hand on her exposed middle back. It was as if all she could focus on was his touch pouring heat through her skin to flow through her like molten sunlight. Even walking was a bit easier with him brushing against her side, as if he lent her a bit of his strength and surety while guiding her along.

“I desired to be close to you for the evening, and my standard appearance tends to draw more attention than would suit the delicacy of the mission,” he explained quietly, his head ducked down low so his words were delivered just above her ear.

Ignoring the flush that spread up her neck at his admission - he just wanted to protect her - she settled her trembling hands on the gleaming dark wood of the bar. She took the short, wide-mouthed glass that he’d ordered, crinkling her nose at the slightly bitter condensation that tickled against her lips. “What is this?”

“Sparkling water. It will appear as if you are imbibing, but you will maintain a level head.” He angled his head toward the dance floor. “I will be close behind.”

At his clear suggestion that she continue on with the plan, she started moving about the room, cracking a smile that didn’t reach her eyes whenever she made eye contact with someone. The bitter drink bubbled unhappily in her stomach, and she couldn’t stop herself from fiddling with the orange slice perched on the rim. It was expected for the Avengers to attend the party, so she was safe in acknowledging them whenever they’d cross paths. A friendly nod from Bucky, a squeeze of her hand from Natasha, a quick hug around her shoulders from Tony and a smile from Pepper, they all helped to tamp down the edge of her nerves.

She caught the barest hint of Loki’s voice, sweetened with his disguise, at random intervals. Pleasant laughter and an airy chuckle would meet her ears over the sounds of the party, reassuring her that he was keeping his promise of remaining closeby. How she longed to change her appearance as he could, melt into the skin of another, to avoid it all and enjoy the evening. Perhaps learn how to dance…

“Your drink seems to be empty, sweetheart. Care for another?”

She snapped out of her self-pitying reverie, sighing heavily at the waiter who offered her a flute of sparkling golden liquid. She suspected it to be alcohol, but maybe a sip wouldn’t hurt to calm her down?

“Thanks.”

The crystal was refreshingly cool grasped in her hands. She sank against the wall behind her, lifting it to her rouge-painted lips to take a drink, when it was ripped from her grip.

“Don’t drink that,” Loki urged her, shielding her from view of the room with his body placed squarely in front of her. He cut his eyes at the drink between them, turning it in his grasp and sniffing the contents.

Tony, with Pepper right behind him, quickly skirted through the unaware guests, coming up to Loki’s other side with alert, tight eyes and hands flexing in front of him. “What’d he look like?”

“White button-up shirt, but it wasn’t pressed like your staff. Fair skin, brown hair and eyes, with scuffed black trainers and a skinny black tie. Not a bow tie.” Loki handed the glass off to Stark, searching Haley’s face with jaw set.

“Fury’s on it. Good catch there, Reindeer Games. Hales, you okay?”

Why would Loki keep her from trying the drink? What could’ve been in there? Poison? Drugs? Mr. Shaw didn’t like to discuss business in front of her, but she knew that Hydra had created some awful weapons that could be easily hidden in a bit of liquid.

Oh.

They’d found her. Was he here? Here to drag her back to another dank room, living out her days in endless agony and darkness, taking his injuries so he could commit more atrocities in the world? Her eyes skittered over the guests frantically even as the room seemed to fold in around her. Her quick breaths did nothing to take in any oxygen into her constricted lungs and she gasped, curling in over her arms wrapped around her stomach. She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t.

The striped blue fabric of Loki’s suit was the last thing she saw before he straightened her up with steady hands on her shoulders, tugging her into him until her face was pressed into his neck, instructing her to close her eyes.

Coldness, sharper than anything she’d ever felt before, rushed over her for a split second before the sounds of the party instantly stopped. The resulting silence was so jarring that she backed away from Loki, expecting to hit the wall of the ballroom; instead, her knees touched the lip of her favorite couch in the recreation area. She sank down onto it, focusing on slowing her breathing and her heart rate as she stared up at the bespeckled version of her closest friend.

“How can I assist you?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her, his hands hovering in the space between him and her knees.

Only when the worried scrunch of his brows blurred did she realize that tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes. She clenched them tight, refusing to give in to her panic, waving her hands in his general direction. “Can you just, be you, again? It’s too weird. I need you.”

More silence beyond her ragged breaths. And then gloriously soft fabric slipped over one arm, around her back, and then over the other. Her hoodie. She opened her eyes to watch Loki adjusting the cuffs around her wrists, tugging them down until her fingers could close over the edges, before sitting on the couch next to her. He looked like himself again, handsome and dark with piercing green eyes that searched her face with so much concern she thought her heard might split in two.

“I could fetch a bit of water, or chocolate. Would you prefer to get out of that dress and into something more comfortable? I promise that you are safe-”

His mouth hung open, all speech ceasing when she reached out to take his hand into her lap, lacing their fingers together. She needed the physical reminder of his presence. The warmth of his grasp and the gentle rub of his thumb over the thin skin on the back of her hand - initiated after a few moments further of him staring - did more to calm her than anything else.

“Can we just sit like this for a minute?” She hated how she sounded, weak and shaky to match the knocking of her knees, but it couldn’t be helped.

Too close. They had gotten too close and he wasn’t close enough.

He shifted and let out a deep breath. Their sides pressed together from thigh to shoulder. His other hand rested over theirs and squeezed tenderly. “Anything you wish.”

Series taglist: @kneel-before-queen-loki @alexakeyloveloki @from-hel-i-with-love @cleocc @cateyes315 @coldbookworm @rjohnson1280 @bambi-butt @skiddleskaddle @lokis-high-priestess @myraiswack @ilovetardis @midgardian-mistress @lisaspageofstuff @kathrynwynterbourne @bluestaratsunrise

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @thathedonistgirl @lokixme

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @snoopy3000 @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare

#loki fanfic #loki #slow burn #loki x OFC #angst #fluff #protective!loki #protective loki #marvel fanfic #helping hands #hopelesswrites

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calumcest · 4 years

Text

i want to teach you a lesson (in the worst kind of way)

me writing 5.6k in 4 hours and pretending my essays/presentation/exams/dissertation don’t exist? it’s more likely than you think

thank u jex for listening to me scream abt this for the past 4 hours and for always being the sweetest and most encouraging person in the world you are truly such a positive influence in my life

also this is based off a prompt i got i think in 2014 never say i don’t provide! i would link the post but honestly it’s just got my 16 year old self’s embarrassing screams on it so frankly i would rather not so instead i will provide you with a screenshot of the ask under the cut

[ao3]

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window.

“The new PE teacher,” Michael says.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

“He’s also twice your age,” Michael says. “Go on, off to your practice rooms.” The girls groan, but one by one pull themselves away from the window and start to wander off. Michael stays by the window, one eye on the girls to make sure they actually go where they’re supposed to and one eye on the new PE teacher, who’s dividing the class up into groups and handing out footballs. He is kind of hot, Michael supposes, if you’re into muscular guys who are clearly good at sports. Which Michael most definitely is.

Michael Clifford loves his job.

Sure, the staff room politics can get a bit exhausting (although Michael would be lying if he didn’t admit to loving all the drama he wasn’t personally involved in), and the kids can drive him up the fucking wall, but at the end of the day, there’s nothing he’d rather be doing than teaching.

Except today. Today, when a good portion of 10C has somehow exploded into an argument over whether or not Julia snatched a guitar when Sam was about to take it, he thinks he’d rather be a human guinea pig for infectious diseases, or something. It probably pays better, anyway.

“Sam,” he says sternly, and he turns to look at Michael, anger written all over his face. “There are plenty of guitars in the cupboard. Let Julia have that one.”

“But sir, that’s the only one which-”

“I don’t care,” Michael says, holding up a hand, because he’s perfectly aware that it’s the only guitar which stays in tune longer than thirty seconds. He’s been begging for a budget increase since the day he joined the school. “It’s one lesson, it’s not an exam, you can deal with it for forty-five minutes.”

“But Mr Clifford-” Lucy pipes up, ready to defend Sam.

“No, Lucy,” he says firmly. “I want all of you in the practice rooms, now.” Sam glares at him furiously and stomps off without an instrument in his hands, Lucy and Pip running behind him to one of the practice rooms outside the main classroom. Michael decides he’s got enough on his plate without inserting himself into hormonally-charged teenage drama, so he lets them go, rounding on Noel and Olivia, who are still arguing with Julia, Brandon hovering awkwardly nearby.

“I don’t want to hear anything else about this,” Michael cuts in, and Noel and Olivia round on Michael instead.

“Sir, she stole it from-”

“He was about to pick it u-”

“I don’t want to spend my lunchtime in detention, and unless you two do I suggest you get your instruments and go to your practice rooms,” Michael says curtly, trying to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He’s getting a stress-induced headache already, and it’s the first lesson of the day.

“Fine,” Olivia spits, full of the kind of melodrama only a fifteen-year-old can summon, and Michael tries not to roll his eyes as they stalk off to one of the practice rooms at the back of the classroom without so much as another glance in his direction. He’s pretty sure he hears one of them mutter fuck you under their breath as they walk away, and he feels momentarily bad before he remembers they’ll have forgotten about it by their next lesson.

“Don’t do it again,” is all he says tiredly to Julia, who nods meekly, and scampers off to join her group in one of the other practice rooms at the back of the classroom. That being sorted, Michael turns back to the rest of the class, to find about eight of the girls gathered at the window, chattering excitedly.

“That doesn’t look like composing a short piece on three instruments to me,” he says, wandering over, and a bunch of the girls look back at him with a look of excitement on their faces.

“Who’s that, sir?” Lily asks, jabbing at the window and leaving a mark. Michael peers over their heads to see a distant figure standing on the field with a class that looks like it might be 7A. All he can make out is that it’s a guy, with what looks like a mess of dark brown hair and a couple of tattoos on his (very muscular, Michael notes with approval) arms that he’s waving around, clearly explaining something.

Michael vaguely remembers Paula, the headmistress, saying something about a new PE teacher starting this week, but he’d been too busy whisper-explaining to Luke why Magic: The Gathering was a great game and he should definitely play it with Michael to remember what she’d said the guy was called.

“The new PE teacher,” he says, hoping they won’t ask what he’s called.

“He’s cute,” Sarah says, and a couple of the girls nod vigorously.

Huh, he thinks, pushing himself away from the window and heading to the first practice room to make sure Noel, Olivia and Brandon have calmed down a bit. Sarah’s kind of right.

-------

Michael has a free period fourth period, and even if he usually wouldn’t be seen dead on the field, it’s a beautiful day, and it is on the route to the staff room. Well, it’s on a route to the staff room, at least, and if that route happens to be five minutes longer than simply walking through the building and over the quad, then Michael doesn’t need to know about it. He could do with the exercise, he tells himself. It’s nothing to do with the new PE teacher.

When Michael gets down to the field, the PE teacher’s gathering up the footballs from the previous lesson and stuffing them in the big netted bag that’s been threatening to break for about five years. He turns around after picking up the last one and spots Michael (who is definitely not staring) cutting across the top part of the field. He raises a hand, and Michael’s not really sure if he’s waving or telling him to get the fuck off the field, but then he’s gathering the bag in one hand and jogging over, and Michael’s absolutely not watching the lines of his muscles as he makes his way over.

“Hi!” the guy says, grinning widely, and fucking hell, he’s even hotter up close. He’s got dark brown eyes, crinkled at the corners with the brilliant smile currently gracing his full lips, and his dark hair is curled, falling into his face slightly. “I’m Calum. Calum Hood. I’m new.”

“I’m Michael Clifford,” Michael says. “I’m not.” He curses inwardly as soon as the words have left his lips - he should be legally restricted from talking to hot guys, honestly - but Calum laughs, laughs, and it’s not fake, if the twinkle in his eyes is anything to go by.

“I gathered,” he says. “So, what do you teach?”

“Music,” Michael says. “You’re PE?” Calum nods.

“Music’s my second, though,” he says.

“Oh?” Michael wants to die. Of course hot PE guy can teach Music, of all things. He was literally crafted by God to upset Michael.

“Yeah,” Calum says, with a smile. “I mean, I’m sure I’m nowhere near as good as you, but I play guitar, and a little piano. Bass is my real love, though.”

“Bass?” Michael says, trying his best not to imagine Calum’s long fingers flying across a fretboard.

“Yeah,” Calum says. “I played in a band, for a bit, but, y’know.” He gestures at himself. “Clearly didn’t work out.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool, though,” Michael says, genuinely impressed. “And hey, bassist to secondary school PE teacher is an upgrade.” Calum laughs.

“Fuck you, man,” he says, but he’s grinning, and Michael feels a warmth spreading from his toes to his cheeks. “Hey, are you heading to the staff room?” Michael nods. “Mind if I tag along? I’m still finding my way around.”

“Sure,” Michael says, shrugging and hoping it conceals the fact that he kind of wants to turn back to the safety of his music room and bang his head on the wall until he forgets someone as perfect as Calum Hood exists on the same planet as him.

“Sweet,” Calum says, beaming at him as he holds up the bag of footballs. “Let me just lock these in the shed and I’ll be right with you.”

Yeah, sweet, Michael thinks, as Calum turns on his heel and jogs away from Michael over to the tiny shed in the corner of the field which houses all the outdoor equipment. Not like Michael’s already head over heels in love, or anything.

Sweet.

-------

Calum’s officially introduced in the staff room at lunchtime on his first day, but Michael has lunch duty on a Monday so he misses it. Luke and Ashton tell him Calum’s a big hit in the staff room, “really charming, and have you seen his arms?”, which just puts Michael in a bad mood, because he now has competition.

It’s three days before Michael bumps into Calum again, in his free second period, which he’s spending catching up on all the marking that was due, like, two weeks ago and is still unfinished.

“Hey, Michael!” Calum says cheerfully, sitting down opposite Michael at the desk that he’s entirely covered with a careful class-organised system of marking. “Oh, shit, are you busy?”

“No,” Michael says immediately, because what’s his job compared to conversation with the hottest guy in Australia? “What’s up?” Calum shrugs.

“Just wanted a chat,” he says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. You been hiding from me?” His eyes are twinkling as he says it, and it makes Michael’s stomach flip, because it’s pretty friendly for a guy he’s met once. If Michael were anyone else, he would say Calum might almost be flirting. Maybe Calum’s just like that, though. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

“Been catching up on marking,” Michael says, indicating all the papers on the desk. “I’m literally going to stop setting homework, I swear to God.”

“Can’t say I relate,” Calum says, with a grin. “Perks of being a PE teacher.”

“Yeah, but you have to deal with, like, concussions, and shit,” Michael says, capping his pen.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that,” Calum says breezily, and Michael snorts.

“Typical PE teacher,” he says. “I could have had my leg cut off and my PE teacher would have made me keep running.” Calum smirks.

“Well, you have another leg, don’t you?” he says, and laughs when Michael scowls. “I’m kidding. I’d let you do push ups instead.” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“How generous,” he says. Calum grins back at him, and Michael’s heart does a fucking backwards somersault, or something ridiculous.

“That’s what you get for saying PE teacher is an upgrade from bassist,” he says.

“Hey, that’s just the natural order of things,” Michael says. “It’s not my fault bass is at the bottom of the musical food chain.”

“What’s music without the rhythm section?” Calum says, stretching, and Michael tries his best not to stare at the sliver of skin that’s exposed under his shirt.

“Acoustic?” Michael offers, and Calum huffs out a laugh, bringing his arms (and shirt, Michael thinks wistfully) back down.

“Fuck,” he says agreeably. “Guess my band could have carried on without me.”

“What kind of music did you play?” Michael asks. Calum shrugs.

“A bit of everything,” he says. “We started on All Time Low, Fall Out Boy, that kind of a thing, got more Radiohead and Tame Impala vibes as we went on.” Jesus Christ. Michael has literally died and gone to heaven, because there is absolutely no way a man this perfect exists anywhere other than in Michael’s imagination.

“Mate, I fucking love All Time Low,” Michael says, and a smile unfurls on Calum’s lips.

“Have you heard their new album?”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “Fuck, Monsters? What a fucking tune.”

“Right?” Calum says enthusiastically. “And Basement Noise?”

“Fucking sick,” Michael agrees.

“You’ve got good taste,” Calum says approvingly. Michael opens his mouth to say something - you’re just saying that to get in my pants is on the tip of his tongue - but he’s interrupted (or possibly saved from eternal embarrassment) by Ashton sitting down heavily next to him.

“Hey, Michael,” he says, throwing a dimpled smile in his direction. “Hey, Calum.”

“Hey, Ashton,” Calum says. “How’s the Year 10 clay project coming along?”

“Oh, you know,” Ashton says, leaning back in his seat and pushing his curls out of his face. “Two busts have been decapitated so far, so we’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“Nice,” Michael says approvingly.

“I know you’re talking about the decapitations, Mike, you don’t fool me,” Ashton says knowingly. Michael scowls.

“Was it Sam?” he asks, needing to know who to high-five in his next lesson.

“No, Noel,” Ashton says.

“10C? Short kid, really fucking fast?” Calum asks. Michael shrugs. How is Michael supposed to know how fast he is? It’s not like Noel’s Naruto running through the music room.

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because apparently Noel’s Naruto running through the art room.

“He’s really fucking good with a ball,” Calum says, and Michael bites back an awful innuendo with a lot of difficulty. Not in front of Ashton, he tells himself.

“He’s lacking a passion,” Ashton says. “He’s good at art, but he messes around too much.”

“Same with Music,” Michael says. “He’s got a temper on him, too.”

“Well, maybe I can get him to channel it into football,” Calum says seriously. “Kids need an outlet, and something they feel like they’re good at. He needs something to be proud of.”

Fuck, Michael thinks, as Ashton enthusiastically responds in kind, staring at Calum as he nods along to whatever Ashton’s saying with a thoughtful frown. He’s definitely in love.

-------

Calum and Michael fall into a bit of a routine.

They don’t share a lot of free periods together, only the fourth on Monday and second on Thursday, but Michael will wait at the corner of the field for Calum to finish clearing up after his last lesson and they’ll walk to the staff room together, sitting and chatting shit for an hour about nothing in particular.

Michael learns that Calum’s got a sister, Mali, who’s in the music industry and whom he’s incredibly proud of, and that he’s half-Kiwi, half-Scottish, and grew up in western Sydney, not too far from Michael. He learns that Calum loves dogs more than he loves either bass or football, loves his dog (Duke) more than he loves anything else on the planet, likes playing Fifa and eating ice cream, and that his biggest fear is not having an impact on the world. He learns that Calum genuinely loves teaching, that Noel’s finding his feet with football and he’s really enjoying it, and that Calum almost went professional with football.

(“Is there anything you aren’t fucking talented at?” Michael says grumpily, when Calum tells him that. Calum laughs.

“Asking cute boys out,” he says, throwing Michael a grin, and Michael’s stomach flips.)

And so he also learns that Calum’s gay, and that he’s been single his whole life.

(“Are you serious? Michael says incredulously. Calum shrugs.

“I’m not a blushing virgin, Michael,” he says, seeing the look on Michael’s face, and Michael scowls.

“I didn’t say you were,” Michael says sullenly, but he’s secretly more than a little jealous of these nameless, faceless boys that have had the honour of fucking Calum Hood.)

Of course, Michael’s not the only one in the school to notice Calum.

A majority of the girls, and a good number of the boys, sing Calum’s praises to Michael every opportunity they get. He hears them talking in the corridors when Calum breezes past, smiling at them but eyes lighting up when he brushes past Michael (which Michael tries desperately not to think about when he’s staring out of the window daydreaming in the middle of a lesson). The staff are no better, either - Brenda and Caroline have been gossiping about Calum’s muscles so loudly that Michael only half-jokingly threatened to file a sexual harassment suit against them on his behalf.

One thing that having an incredibly hot PE teacher has done wonders for, though, is school morale.

It’s the only reason Michael’s standing at the corner of a wet field on a freezing May afternoon, wrapped in a thick coat and scarf and somehow still shivering, huddled between Luke and Ashton, whom he’d bribed-slash-threatened to join him because he didn’t want to be too obvious about it.

(“Mike, I don’t think you could be less obvious about being in love with Calum if you tried,” Luke had said, rolling his eyes, but then Michael had pulled out his trump card - he’d give Luke his coveted spot in the corner of the staff room - and Luke had agreed to go.)

“I fucking hate you,” Luke mumbles into the scarf currently covering a good half of his face. “I’m so fucking cold. This is not worth it to get you laid.”

“Fuck you,” Michael says automatically, eyes on Calum. He’s shouting encouragement and tactics at the Year 12 football team - not that Michael can hear it above the cheers and boos from the rest of the school and their opposition - but he looks so fucking good, brow creased as he focuses on the game.

“Are there usually this many people at football games?” Ashton asks, looking around in wonder. “There aren’t, are there?”

“How d’you expect us to know?” Luke asks, exasperated. “We’re not usually at football games either.”

“We’re being good friends,” Ashton tells Luke, a little sternly, and Luke huffs, but doesn’t say anything else.

Their team scores, and the crowd erupts into cheers, because it’s now only two minutes until the end of the game and they’re two-one up, so it’s unlikely the result will change. Calum still looks determined, though, muttering something to Ben, the Year 12 captain, who nods and jogs back across the bitch to prepare for the kick-off.

“I hate this,” Luke whines after a minute, because that’s apparently as long as he can keep quiet without reminding everyone how miserable he is. “This is why I’m a Maths teacher.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, and then the final whistle blows and Calum’s face is finally relaxing, tension dissipating from his posture as he cheers with the rest of the crowd.

“Calum looks really good tonight,” Ashton says, sending a glance in Michael’s direction.

“Alright, fuck me, I guess,” Luke grumbles. Ashton rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he says, but he looks around furtively before snaking his arm around Luke’s waist and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Everyone knows you’re fucking,” Michael comments, still staring at Calum. “You don’t have to be sly about it.”

“No they don’t,” Luke says, leaning into Ashton’s touch.

“Yes, they do,” Michael says, and then he forgets what he was going to say next because Calum makes eye contact with him from across the pitch and gives him a huge grin, and Michael’s stomach bottoms out. “Fuck, he’s grinning at me.”

“Well, grin back, idiot,” Ashton says, so Michael does. Calum holds his gaze for a moment, and then turns back to his team, leaving Michael feeling a little unsteady.

“I’m in love,” he declares, for the nintieth time that week.

“We know,” Luke says grumpily.

-------

Michael’s halfway through marking 8A’s elements of music test when there’s a knock at the door. He looks up, expecting to see Luke or Ashton, not Calum. He looks out of place in his football kit in the music room, and Michael’s brain short-circuits as it tries to reconcile a hot man in Michael’s music room.

“Hey,” he says, sticking his head around the door. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” Michael says, because Calum could walk in on him taking a shit and wouldn’t be disturbing him. “What’s up?” Calum steps into the room, clicking the door shut behind him, and throws himself down on a seat opposite Michael’s desk.

“So,” he says. “You know All Time Low are here next weekend?” Michael nods. He’s planning on going with Luke and Ashton. “I might have got two tickets to Sunday night.”

“That’s sick,” Michael enthuses. “Who are you going with?” Calum throws Michael an odd look, somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“Well, I was hoping you’d want to come?” he says. Michael blinks.

“Me?” he says.

“Yeah,” Calum says, and there’s definitely a hint of amusement in his tone now.

“I, uh.” Michael’s not really sure how to speak without saying yes, please, and please let me suck your dick while I’m at it. He swallows, hoping it’ll make the words disappear from the tip of his tongue. “I’d fucking love to.” Calum grins, looking relieved, and Michael realises that he must have been nervous . Something about that sends a thrill coursing through his veins - he’d made Calum nervous, somehow.

“Sweet,” he says happily. “Text me your address? I’ll pick you up at five.” Michael just nods, not really trusting himself to speak, and Calum pulls himself up out of the chair, throwing him one last smile before he leaves the room.

Fuck, Michael thinks, as the door swings shut behind Calum, pulling his phone out to Google how to fall out of love with a colleague.

(It doesn’t help him at all.)

-------

Next Sunday comes around faster than Michael had expected, given how much he’s been thinking about it.

Luke and Ashton had been a little incensed when he’d told them he was no longer going with them but with Calum.

(“What?” Luke had said crossly. “Michael, you already bought your ticket.”

“Yeah, but it’s a choice between third-wheeling you or one-on-one time with the love of my life,” Michael says dramatically. “What do you expect me to choose?”)

At five to five, Michael’s sat in his living room, leg jiggling nervously as he checks his phone every two milliseconds just in case he’s somehow missed a notification from Calum in the time it’s taken him to blink.

Calum, though, doesn’t even text to say he’s arrived, just rings the doorbell at five on the dot, scaring Michael shitless.

“Hi,” Calum says, smiling, when Michael opens the door. He’s wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt and straight-leg blue jeans, which should look incredibly nineties and not good at all, but somehow makes Michael want to drop to his knees right there and then. Although, he supposes, that’s what Michael wants to do regardless of what Calum is wearing, so it’s probably nothing to do with that. “You look gorgeous.” Michael has to bite his cheek to check whether he’s still alive and not, like, ascended to heaven.

“Thanks,” Michael mumbles when his mouth floods with pain and it becomes clear that yes, he is actually still alive, feeling heat rise to his cheeks from the sheer intimacy of this moment with a colleague-slash-friend-slash-soulmate-but-he-doesn’t-know-it. He’s so used to seeing Calum in the context of school that it feels strange to see him in normal clothes, standing on Michael’s doorstep.

“Are you ready, or, like, d’you want me to stand here all evening?” Calum says after a moment, and Michael steps out of the house with a scowl.

“Fuck you,” he says, trailing behind Calum as they walk to his car.

“Maybe if you’re lucky,” Calum says, and Michael chokes on his next breath. Calum, however, doesn’t seem to notice, as he’s getting into the car and starting the engine. Michael takes the opportunity to splutter for a second, re-learning how to breathe for the first time in twenty-five years, and takes a deep breath before getting in the passenger side of the car.

“What d’you reckon’s going to be on the set list?” Calum asks, reversing out of Michael’s driveway and setting off down the street. Michael hums in consideration.

“Aside from the obvious?” he says.

“No, Michael, tell me that Dear Maria’s going to be on the set list,” Calum says sarcastically. Michael scowls.

“I’d punch you if you weren’t driving,” he tells Calum, and Michael sees him grin in the dim light.

“I’ve found my shield,” Calum says, running a stop sign. Michael squawks as they swerve into the road, grabbing onto the handle on the door. Calum rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve seen how you drive.”

“Fuck off,” Michael says, scowling, but he can’t deny it. Speed is more important than safety, is his motto - mainly because he always sets off at least ten minutes late.

“So?” Calum prompts. “Set list?”

“I hope Monsters,” Michael says. “But honestly? I’d love some of the older stuff on there too.”

“Yeah, I miss Stella being on the set list,” Calum says wistfully.

“You saw them when Stella was on the set list?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, a tad smug, and okay, fuck him.

“Fuck,” Michael says, and he can’t even disguise the envy in his voice. Calum just laughs, throwing Michael a glance, and his eyes are glittering in the sunset, making Michael’s heart hurt a little bit. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Hey,” Calum says, aiming for affronted, but he’s still grinning. “Don’t antagonise the driver.”

“I can antagonise you all I want,” Michael says. “You’re not going to kill us on the way to an All Time Low gig.”

“Might kill us on the way back, though,” Calum points out.

“Yeah, well, I can probably die happy, then,” Michael says, with a shrug.

“True,” Calum agrees. “Good music, pretty boy in the passenger seat, what more could you want?”

“Exactly,” Michael says emphatically, and it takes him until Calum’s started talking about the merits of Nothing Personal as compared to Don’t Panic to realise what Calum had just said.

Michael’s in the passenger seat.

-------

The show, as expected, is amazing.

Michael’s seen All Time Low, like, five times now, and they never fail to disappoint. He voices as such to Calum on the way home, running on a high of adrenaline and having seen Calum jumping in the pit, screaming the lyrics to every single song, which had only made Michael’s whole being-in-love-with-the-hot-PE-teacher situation a little more difficult to handle.

“Right?” Calum enthuses, speeding along the almost-empty highway. “I’ve heard it so many times, but Therapy live just hits different.”

“God, I know,” Michael groans, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, letting the memory flash in front of his eyes. “I actually heard the full band version live, once.”

“Yeah?” Calum asks, a tinge of envy in his voice. Michael savours the moment.

“Yeah,” he says, a touch smugly. “It was fucking sick.”

“I can imagine,” Calum says. “I told Alex that they should play it like that tonight, but-”

“Hang on,” Michael says, cutting Calum off, because he cannot be understanding this correctly. “Alex who?” Calum suddenly looks a little guilty.

“Uh,” he says.

“Alex who, Calum?”

“Gaskarth?” Calum offers after a moment, and Michael gapes at him.

“You know Alex Gaskarth?”

“Well, y’know, I used to be in a band, and we opened for All Time Low, and-”

“You opened for All Time Low?” Michael asks. Calum chews on his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m- look, I’m sorry for not telling you, okay? I got the tickets through Alex, but I thought if I told you you might just want to go for them, like, you wouldn’t get it, and-”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you know All Time Low,” Michael huffs, sinking down in his seat. Calum throws him a worried look, so Michael adds: “I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” which makes Calum smile as he turns into Michael’s road.

“Fuck you,” he says, but the concern is fading from his face as he parks on the road by Michael’s house this time. They both get out of the car, and then Michael hovers awkwardly by the little path that leads to his house.

“You’re a traitor,” he says, when Calum rounds the corner of his car and comes to stand opposite Michael. He’s lit up in the orange light of the streetlights, dark brown hair surrounded by a halo of amber, and Michael doesn’t think he’s seen a prettier sight in his life.

“I had to make sure you were coming for me,” Calum protests, a smile playing at his lips. Michael blinks at him.

“What do you mean?” he says, nonplussed.

“Well, y’know,” Calum says, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” Michael says. Calum looks at him oddly.

“Wait,” he says. “You...you know this was a date, right?” Michael gapes at him.

“Are you- wait, what?” Calum’s face falls, and he takes a step back, and no, no, no, that’s not what Michael wants. “Wait, no, I-”

“Fuck,” Calum says, laughing uncomfortably as he cards a hand through his hair. “I probably should have made it clearer, huh? I did say I was bad at asking out cute boys.”

“Me?” Michael’s voice is a good three octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m cute?” Calum smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Michael, I’ve been flirting with you since, like, the minute I saw you,” he says.

“You have?”

“Jesus Christ,” Calum mutters, and then seems to pull himself together. “Look, I’m sorry if I, like, overstepped, made things uncomfortable, whatever. I’m happy to keep it professional, and-” he cuts himself off when Michael laughs. “What?” he says, and it comes out snappy.

“Are you serious?” Michael says, and he’s grinning now, so much he thinks he probably looks a little creepy.

“You’re kind of being a dickhead, now, you know that?” Calum says, a little sharply.

“No, Calum, I- fucking hell,” Michael says, and a bubble of manic laughter escapes from him. “I’ve been kind of in love with you since, like, before we met.” Calum looks at him for a moment, expression unreadable

“Before we met?” Calum asks carefully.

“Yeah,” Michael says, nodding. “10C pointed you out, in first period, and I kind of stared at you for half the lesson.” Calum says nothing for a moment, just keeps looking at Michael, and it’s starting to get a little unnerving, when-

“Oh,” Calum says, and a small smile is creeping onto his face. “You- wait, so, like, I didn’t misread it? You do like me?”

“I mean, I did just say I was kind of in love with you, but sure, I like you," Michael says, and Calum grins, lit up by the streetlights and his happiness, and Michael thinks he’s found space in his heart that he didn’t even know he had since meeting Calum.

“So,” Calum says. “This was a date?”

“This was definitely a date,” Michael agrees, feeling his stomach flip pleasantly at the words.

“Would it be cliché to kiss you goodnight?” Calum asks, and Michael grins.

“Definitely,” he says, “but I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Calum grins back, and takes two steps forward to close the space between them, bringing a hand to Michael’s jaw and pressing his lips to Michael’s gently. It’s chaste, sweet, slow, languid, and Calum kisses like Michael’s the only thing that matters in the world. He smells like mint and pine and vanilla, pressed close to Michael’s chest, slipping an arm around Michael’s waist, and Michael groans into the kiss as he thinks about Calum’s long fingers splayed across the small of his back.

“Too much?” Calum asks, breaking away, and Michael shakes his head, pressing his forehead against Calum’s shoulder.

“Not enough,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get enough of Calum Hood. Calum pulls him in for a proper hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, and Michael’s glad Calum’s got strong arms because he feels like his knees are about to give in.

“Do you want to come in?” he mumbles against Calum’s shoulder.

“Is that a proposition?” Calum says, smile evident in his voice.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Maybe.” Michael swallows. Jesus Christ.

“Then it is.” Calum pulls back and looks at Michael, suddenly serious.

“Hey,” he says. “This isn’t- this isn’t just sex for me. I really like you, Michael. If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I want something more with you.” Michael grins.

“Have I got to repeat the whole ‘kind of in love with you’ thing again?” he says, and Calum grins back.

“Alright,” he says, and Michael hears his car squeaking to indicate it’s locked. “You’re making the excuses when we turn up to school tomorrow, though.”

-------

A few students give them strange looks when they get out of Michael’s car in the morning.

“Is this seriously the sportiest thing you own?” Calum grumbles for the fiftieth time, picking at the green hoodie and black jogging bottoms that Michael had chucked at him that morning.

“Quit complaining,” Michael says, locking the car behind them and starting across the car park to the school. “Green’s your colour.”

“Oh, that’s why you picked it,” Calum says, jogging a little to catch up with Michael.

“Yeah,” Michael says with a grin, unashamed. Calum shakes his head, but he’s grinning too.

“I’d kiss you right now if I could,” he says, as they turn into the building.

“What’s stopping you?” Michael asks, as they make their way up the stairs to the staff room.

“Uh, code of conduct? The contract I signed when I joined the school?” Michael rolls his eyes as he pushes open the door to the staff room.

“Morning!” he chirps, heading straight for the desk Luke and Ashton are already sat at, Calum in his wake.

“Morning!” a few people in the room chorus over the general buzz of post-weekend chatter.

“Hey,” Luke says loudly, frowning. “Why’s Calum wearing your clothes?”

The room goes still, and Michael just grins.

#malum #lashton #5sos fic #5sos slash #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #bro the way i can just knock out 5.6k of fic in 4 hours but spend 3 hours reading a singular academic article #do i have a brain? debatable

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