can we all just talk about his face in the fourth one

Closet Softie

Or, How Bucky Barnes Nearly Ruined His Tough-Guy Rep

(On AO3)


The trail mix was gone. 

The nice, expensive trail mix, with twelve kinds of nuts and the big sunflower seeds and dried fruits, the kind Tony only rarely left sitting on the common floors for everyone to get at, was gone. 

Clint had been looking forward to that stuff all morning

All the way through a hellish morning “jog” with Steve, all through Nat handing him his ass on the training mats, all through firing the same batch of misweighted arrows over and over so Tony could take scans and fix the design, he’d been thinking, when this is done I get to go upstairs and hang out on the couch and watch Dog Cops and eat the good trail mix, guilt-free. 

And it was gone.

Clint was gonna shoot somebody.

Just as soon as he figured out who’d taken the trail mix.


kingofmemes posted:

yesterday i saw a sad duck in the park who kept getting picked on by the other ducks so today i brought some trail mix and we had a nice lunch together. also i think he might be the duck who pooped on sam last week. if so, he is officially my new best friend. 

Posted at 3:29 PM, 24379 notes

(Read More Below)


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Foolproof

Can we just take a moment to imagine what would have happened if Draco had believed the rumors and articles about Harry and Hermione dating in fourth year? Like, yes, he knows that most of Rita Skeeter’s articles are made up, he’s one of her sources after all, but what if this one is true? And no, of course he’s not jealous, how can he be jealous of Granger? But damn it, they’re together all the time and it makes him sick, thinking about what they’re doing while they’re walking around the lake day after day.

So Draco comes up with a plan. A foolproof plan. He snatches a few strands of hair from Hermione’s robes one day after class and makes sure she’s headed to the library. He gulps down the Polyjuice Potion he prepared and hurries to find Harry. He runs into Viktor Krum, who won’t leave him alone and Merlin, why is he holding Draco’s hand? Sweet Salazar, he just kissed Draco’s hand! He’s extremely flustered and confused when he finally finds Harry.

There’s a quick exchange of,
“Hermione, I thought you wanted to go to the library?”
“Oh, I changed my mind, let’s take a walk around the lake.”

Draco smirks to himself when he and Harry are finally alone. He gets a bit irritated when Harry still hasn’t taken his hand and keeps blabbering about the Triwizard Tournament. Seriously, when does the snogging start? They’ve already rounded the lake once and Potter is still talking. Draco knows he’s running out of time, so he stops walking, grabs Harry by his robes and starts kissing him furiously. Harry lets out a gasp and freezes as Draco attacks his mouth.

Why isn’t Potter kissing him back? He still looks like Granger! When Harry still doesn’t move a muscle, it suddenly dawns on Draco that - Oh! Maybe they really haven’t done that before! Maybe Granger isn’t his girlfriend after all. Shit, what if Draco just made Potter realise he fancies Granger? As it turns out, Draco needn’t worry about that, because when he pulls back, he can see his reflection in Harry’s glasses and oh no! His hair! It’s not bushy and brown, it’s well groomed and blond! Without another word he turns on his heels and runs back to the castle.

In the following weeks, he refuses to meet Harry’s eyes and tries to avoid him as much as possible. On the day of the second task, Draco feels even more foolish. So Granger has been dating Krum? And Weasley is the most important person to Potter?

The next day, Draco is on his way to breakfast, when somebody suddenly grabs his wrist and drags him into an empty classroom. Draco blushes when Harry closes the door behind him and looks at Draco intently. Oh Merlin, is he finally going to confront him?

“You stupid prat,” Potter suddenly exclaims. “What have you done to me? Seriously, because all I could think about in the last few weeks was that bloody kiss!”

Draco just stares at him, not sure he’s comprehending what Harry is saying.

“And last night I dreamed you were the one on the bottom of the lake, not Ron.”

Draco’s brain registers the words, but not the meaning.

“What?” is all he’s able to say.  

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Harry bursts out. He reaches out and takes Draco’s face in his hands. Draco has no time to react before Harry presses their bodies together and starts kissing Draco feverishly. After a few moments, Draco makes a high-pitched sound that he should probably be embarrassed about, but who cares? This is an even better outcome than he had hoped for!

Not that he doubted it would work for one second. His plan was foolproof after all!

Transference (M) – Chapter 06

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 13,167

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: This chapter is going to hurt.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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Thrive // h.h

A/N: wow I went overboard with this and it’s really all over the place so if you’re confused feel free to message me so I can make things clearer. 

This is my first imagine for Harry Hook so I don’t really have his character down yet, also I really hate the ending but I didn’t want it to go on forever so I needed to finish it up.

Being the fifth wheel in a group of some of the most infamous VK’s has never been Y/N’s ideal life, but when approached by the four most feared kids on an island, one does not simply say no.

She hangs around as almost a form of protection, the stigma of the four keeping others away from her. Almost like a security blanket, she can count on having a place in the corner of Mal’s apartment, even if she only stood in the shadows.

Then one day that protection vanishes, the core four summoned to Auradon on Prince Ben’s orders, leaving her behind with nothing.

Two months later she makes her way down an alley way, tugging down the sleeves on her jacket as she nears Ursula’s Chip Shop.

Practically the entire restaurant freezes as she enters, drawing the attention of two teens in particular.

“Well well well,” the teal haired girl sing-songs, dropping a tray onto a table as she walks by, “what do we have here?”

She walks up to the girl, eyebrows raised.

“Tell me Harry,” Uma asks, circling around the her, “are we taking in strays?”

“Hm, I dunno,” the boy replies, smirk on his face, “she’s cute though, maybe we should keep her. I could use another play thing.”

“I just came for food,” Y/N replies, crossing her arms over her chest, “not to join some kiddy pirate crew.”

Uma place a hand on Harry’s chest before he can rush forward, her eyebrows raised slightly.

“Impressive,” she mutters, nodding, “take a seat, I’ll have a server sent your way.”

The girl sits down on a stool, all to aware of the boy who now occupies the seat next to her.

“It’s a shame darlin’,” he drawls, leaning his chin on his hand, “we could’ve had lots of fun together.”

“Never thought you’d want anything to do with me,” she replies, raising an eyebrow, “last I checked I was part of Mal’s crew, not Uma’s.”

“And last time I checked,” Harry smirked, “your little crew are now frolicking around the fields of Auradon, and you’re still here. No crew, no friends, no nothing.”

The girl clenches her fist under the table, swallowing back her words.

“Your point?” She asks.

The pirate smirks, twirling his hook around in his hand.

“Just plotting love,” he says, standing up, “I’ll see you ‘round.”

That is the first of many encounters with the infamous pirate teen, it seems as if every time she turns a corner he’s there, a smirk on his face, the hook in his hand and a backhanded complement dripping off his lips.

Four months after Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos left for Auradon she’s walking through the Isle, hands shoved in her pockets.

“Hello there love,” he says from behind her, a half smile appearing on her face, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it?” She asks, keeping her stride as Harry falls into step next to her. “Don’t you know where I am at all times? Isn’t that the job of a stalker?”

“I’m offended you would even think I would stoop to that level,” he says, placing a hand on his heart in fake shock.

“What do you want Hook?” She questions, leaning against the brick wall.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he replies.

“Do you now?” She smirks. “And is this your proposition or Uma’s?”

“Both,” Harry answers, twirling his necklace around in his fingers, “come to the chip shop tonight, two a.m. We want to talk.”

With that, the pirate turns on his heel and walks down the alley.

“And if I don’t?” She calls.

“You will.”

And she does, at two a.m. on the dot she shoves her way into the shop, one hand on her hip.

“She’s a prompt one,” Uma says from the back.

“Mother always taught me to be on time,” she says sarcastically, making her way towards her.

“Mother’s always give the best advice,” Uma replies, gesturing for the girl to sit down.

“So what is this,” Y/N asks, “I’ve already told you that I don’t have any info on Mal and her friends, haven’t heard from any of them since they left.”

“Nah it ain’t about that,” Uma shakes her head, leaning on her elbows on the counter, “I want…well, we want you to join our crew. Not an entry level type thing, I want you up with us, with me and Harry and Gil. I wanna add a fourth to our ranks.”

“Why me?” She questions, leaning forward. “You could get anyone on this island, especially since Mal left, so why me?”

“Power,” Uma shrugs, “simple as that. You were on Mal’s crew, you’ve got status here. You need a crew and I need a fourth member, figured we could help each other out.”

“You’d be willing to work with me?” Y/N questions, noticing Harry lurking in the background. “And your crew would too?”

“They don’t have a choice,” Uma replies, “but yes, I am willing.”

“And you?” Y/N throws her question at Harry, keeping her eyes trained on Uma.

She sees Harry smirk from the corner of her eye.

“Welcome aboard princess.”

A few days later Y/N joins the pirate crew aboard their ship, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ll teach you the ropes,” Harry says, “literally and figuratively. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

The two teens spend practically every minute of every day together for the next few weeks, becoming incredibly close incredibly fast.

“We’ve been working hard all day love,” Harry says, leaning against the mast as the girl turns to look at him, “let’s go on a walk.”

“You sure Uma is okay with that?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uma doesn’t control every single thing I do,” he rolls his eyes, “c'mon, lets have a rest.”

“Walk me down the beach?” She suggests, holding her hand out to him.

Harry takes it gladly.

“After you princess.”

The two teens walk down the sand, hands still intertwined.

“So I know that ‘dating’ isn’t really a thing here,” she starts, “but you and Uma…is that a thing or?”

“Me and Uma?” The pirate laughs. “Nah, we’re just mates, the best of friends I would say. We’ve been friends since we were toddlers. Why?”

“Just curious,” she shrugs, staring at the shore line.

“I would call dating a thing here though,” Harry says, “it maybe be different than what they have there at Boradon,” Y/N laughs at his nickname for the mainland, “but it’s still a thing. We may be villains, but we’re allowed to fall in love, to get as close to a happy ending as possible.”

“You think we deserve that?” Y/N asks. “Cause I think the people over there think we deserve to pay for the sins of our parents.”

“Doesn’t matter what they think,” Harry replies, “they don’t know what life’s like over here, they don’t get a say in what we deserve.”

“I like that,” she smiles.

“I like you,” Harry says, biting down slightly on his lip as he looks at her.

“Yeah?” She asks, a half smile on her face as the boy nods. “I like you too.”

Harry’s smirk widens, his hand squeezing hers as they continue to walk down the beach.

“We should head back soon,” Y/N says quietly, “I promised Uma I’d cover a shift at the shop tonight.”

“Kiss me first,” Harry says, turning her around so they’re face to face instead of next to each other, “then we’ll go back.”

She does as he asks, smiling as she presses her lips to his. She feels his hand cup her cheek, the slight sea breeze blowing through her hair.

“More of that later?” She questions, causing Harry to smirk again.

“Much more of that later, love,” he says, taking his hat off of his head and placing it on hers, “much more.”

Six months after Mal left the Isle, she came back. Y/N sits in Ursula’s shop, she felt Mal’s presence before Harry even told her.

“She’s back isn’t she,” the girl asks as her boyfriend plops into the seat next to her, “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, she is,” Harry replies, “saw her at Tremaine’s salon, how are you doing?”

“I guess ’m okay,” she shrugs, “but that girl essentially left me for dead, right now all I want to do is see the look on her face when she realizes I thrived while she was gone, that I don’t need her or her posse to run this town.”

“You’re so hot when you’re revengeful,” Harry growls, surging forward and practically smashing their lips together in a heated mess.

“Oh get a room you two,” Uma says a few minutes later, practically throwing a tray down on the bar for Gil.

Harry pulls away from her, only to press another short, bruising kiss to her lips.

“I’ve got a plan,” Uma says, leaning against the counter, “you ready for this?”

Her question is pointed at Y/N, the girl smirks.

“I’m ready for anything.”

Much to Y/N’s surprise, Mal actually shows up to the shop. Uma practically growls, walking up to the purple haired girl as Harry slides an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

“How ya doin’?” He whispers, lips ghosting over her ear as he kisses the skin gently.

“She may have changed her look, but she hasn’t changed her attitude,” the girl says, “she hated being bad, deep down she always wanted to be like the kids in Auradon, no amount of hair dye and leather can change that.”

As Mal and Uma talk, the purple haired girl’s eyes shift around the shop, landing on the couple near the back.

Y/N presses kisses to Harry’s jaw line, taking the tri-horned hat off of his head and placing it on hers, a smirk playing on her lips as she sees Mal turn her gaze back to Uma.

“And what exactly did that accomplish?” Harry questions playfully.

“Maybe nothing, probably nothing,” Y/N shrugs, smiling up at him, “but it was fun.”

“You’re evil,” Harry mumbles.

“You love it.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin on his face, “that I do.”

“Walk me home?” She asks, intertwining their fingers.

“After you,” Harry replies, opening the back door for them to leave.

The couple makes their way down the alley, Harry’s arm around her shoulders and their fingers intertwined.

“No no I’m serious,” Y/N says with a light laugh, “she froze the entire kingdom and then turned her own sister to ice.”

“Sounds like she belongs over here,” Harry replies, “not in Auradon.”

“Must be because she’s of royal blood,” the girl shrugs, “but who knows.”

The conversation comes to a halt when Y/N’s eyes land on her used-to-be friends standing in the alley way.

“Y/N?” Evie questions with surprise. “You’re still here?”

“Where else would I be?” Y/N shoots back harshly, Harry squeezing her hand gently.

“What’s going on here?” Jay asks, hopping down from his perch above the alley.

“Just trying to get home,” Y/N replies, “what are you all doing here?”

“Getting Ben,” Carlos answers, glaring at Harry, “no thanks to this clown.”

Y/N places a hand on Harry’s chest, holding him back.

“Just leave it,” she whispers, shaking her head, “they’re not worth it.”

“You’ve changed,” Jay says, crossing his arms, “last thing I remember you wouldn’t go near Uma or her crew.”

“Yeah well,” she shrugs, looking up at Harry, “I had to survive somehow, the only friends I had deserted me. And things just…happened.”

Harry kisses her forehead, Carlos’s jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Well that’s…” he searches for words, eye darting around the alley, “new.”

“Time to go?” Harry asks in a whisper, the girl nodding in agreement.

“Good luck getting your friend back,” she says, “you’re gonna need it.”

The two of them swagger off, Harry spinning the hook around in his hand.

“You’ve gained more confidence since they left,” he says, “it’s hot. I’m proud of you.”

“All thanks to you,” she replies, “when I was friends with them I felt…weak. Like I was a charity case or something, but when I’m with you and Uma and Gil I feel…powerful. I feel like I matter.”

“You do matter,” Harry replies, “and we’re gonna rule Auradon together. And no one is going to ever make you feel like you don’t matter again.”

“Promise?” She questions, smile on her face as she cups his cheeks.

“Promise,” he smiles, kissing her hard, “we’re gonna rule the world princess.”

“We ride with the tide.”

Record Player - Peter Parker

request -  Hello! Congrats on the new bloooog. How about a Peter Parker x reader where the reader tries to teach him how to slow dance before homecoming and they end up kissing?

a/n - i’m an ib history nerd so i apologize for the 13 million references in here LMAO i always try to show peter’s dorky side in these fics and i’m sorry if it failed miserably but dont’ forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!

Studying for a History quiz was such a bother, especially with the content being about some guys in suits fighting over which country got money and which one was left in the dust. Alas, I had to study in order to keep my self pride.

The New Look Policy was proposed by Dwight Eisenhower to reflect his concern towards the United States military during the Cold War.” I read from my textbook.

I groaned and started scribbling into my notebook once more, silently listening to the noise the city produced from the small crack of the open window. The apartment was quiet tonight considering my mom was on her fourth night shift of the week, allowing some peace for me to study by myself. That was interrupted once two loud knocks were bouncing off the door.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” I heard Peter yelp desperately from the outside. I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat, heading towards the door. With Peter being a close friend, and also having him live two floors below me, it caused for a lot of situations like this to turn up unexpectedly.

“Coming!” I chimed, unlocking the door and opening it just a tiny bit, peeking my head through. “What’s up?”

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fourth of july: fahc edition

(bc i’m slightly tipsy and there’s already ppl shooting fireworks outside)
(under a read more bc i have no control  and must be stopped)

jack

  • wears bright red lipstick and blue eyeshadow bc she’s feelin p a t r i o ti c
  • is in charge of the food
  • her apron says “quit bitchin’ in my kitchen”
  • actually the kitchen is strictly off-limits while she’s cooking get the fuck outta here
  • seriously one time she threw a knife at ryan’s head when he tried to grab a potato chip
  • goes all out for the fourth of july y’all. we’re talking buttery corn on the cob, fresh guac, fried green tomatoes, salted watermelon, mac n cheese, apple pie mmmmMMMMM
  • follows an old patillo family recipe to make the best goddamn potato salad this side of the mississippi river holy shit like,,, it’s so fucking good god bless the patillos
  • uses a secret ingredient in her potato salad that she’ll take to her grave don’t even bother asking buddy she’ll laugh in your face
  • (jeremy thinks it’s white wine)
  • (gavin thinks its cocaine)

geoff

  • wears leather sandals and american flag-printed board shorts why geoffrey why
  • is in charge of drinks
  • obviously
  • imports single malt whisky straight from scotland
  • then steals 2 dozen crates of bud light from the 24/7 supermarket down the street
  • geoff there’s literally only 15 people at this party do you really need 10 bottles of tequila
  • likes making mixed drinks for people who didn’t order them
  • his “signature drink” is called The Firecracker™
  • everyone’s pretty sure it’s just fireball and actual gasoline
  • always ends up ranting about how fucked up the american founding fathers were
  • “guys thomas jefferson was such a dick i fucking hate that dude”
  • “we know geoff”

ryan

  • shifts into Ultimate Dad Mode™ on the fourth of july bless his heart
  • unironically wears USA t-shirts from old navy and a backwards baseball cap
  • it makes him look * c o o l *
  • is in charge of the grill
  • looks way too comfortable using a meat cleaver and a butcher knife
  • ryan that’s just *beef* in those burgers right?
  • has an AK-47 strapped to his back just in case they come
  • “just in case who comes?”
  • “they”
  • likes to sing 80’s rock music while grilling 
  • there’s a video of him belting jessie’s girl into his spatula
  • ryan is not aware of this video
  • it’s saved on jack’s laptop (encrypted and password protected)

jeremy

  • is in charge of the music
  • turns into the biggest Dudebro™ on the fourth
  • yells ‘merica before doing anything
  • uses red white n blue spray-on hair color and completely fucks up the bathroom sink with it
  • his playlist is called “'freedom muthafukaaaas”
  • songs include: bruce springsteen’s “born to run”, warrant’s “cherry pie”, ELO’s “mr. blue sky” and abba’s “dancing queen”
  • insists on being called DJ rimmy tim for the whole day
  • keeps trying to get people to play pool volleyball with him
  • drinks anything geoff puts in front of him
  • he and jack end up trying to parachute from the cargobob into the pool
  • “jerEMY NO”

michael

  • is in charge of the fireworks
  • doesn’t buy fireworks tho are you kidding me fuck that this isn’t amateur hour sON
  • spends all of april/may developing homemade fireworks with trevor and matt
  • has almost lost multiple fingers while testing their creations
  • also nearly blinded himself while trying to modify a bottle rocket
  • tbh this is the most dangerous thing he does all year and he’s a Professional Criminal for a living
  • created a firework that explodes in bright red brocades and makes the air smell like roses
  • he calls it “the lindsay”
  • every year there’s an illegal massive fireworks show on mt. haan that gets set up anonymously and is electronically detonated
  • everyone knows its the fakes but literally every person in town comes out to watch it and it’s basically a los santos tradition so the LSPD are like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 
  • they get a tupperware of potato salad for their troubles
  • (it’s the best goddamn potato salad they’ve ever had)

gavin

  • likes to remind everyone that’s he’s british and that he’s offended by their patriotism
  • “congrats on your bad healthcare and shite chocolate”
  • paints a lil british flag on his cheek bc fuck u guys
  • but then #brexit rip
  • has the most insane shit delivered to the penthouse for Funsies™
  • last year it was a massive bouncy castle that blocked off the whole street
  • the year before he brought five thousand water ballons filled with ice, blood, flour, and some weird goo he somehow smuggled in from china
  • jeremy almost had to go to the hospital
  • geoff was not a fan
  • literally no one has a clue what gavin has planned for this year and they’re not sure if they should be terrified or excited
  • (it’s actually a lads vs gents nerf battle with tranquilizer-loaded darts)
  • (geoff will not be a fan)

the fakes

  • just bc it’s a national holiday doesn’t mean they’re not heisting
  • jack wears his gaudiest hawaiian print
  • ryan switches his black face paint for blue (sometimes he’ll even add stars)
  • the lads load up on homemade grenades and bombs that sparkle and whizz as they detonate
  • they hit every major bank and big business within the city limits as the los santos sky explodes with color
  • on july 5th, planned parenthood, greenpeace, the national immigration law center, the trevor project, the ACLU and countless other NGOs get their annual summer donation - always impressive, always anonymous
  • bc the fakes know that they’re country is no longer truly the land of the free
  • and they may be criminals but goddamnit they’ll do their best to fix it
  • bc who better than america’s most wanted can give america what it needs the most?
Trouble in Canada

Request: “I’m your husband, it’s my job.”

a/n: I hope you enjoy this itty bitty 10 page writing that I’ve been working on for a few days now ! 😉 ALSO @whitechocolateperfection wanted some angst so I wrote some angst and I hope y’all enjoy and I’d love to know your thoughts!!!

Your name: submit What is this?

“I’ll see you at the next session?”

            You picked your head up from rummaging in your bag and smiled at Ethan, your cooking class instructor, “My husband might be back in town, but I’ll see,”

           Ethan nodded his head steadily.  After a while of looking at each other, you diverted your gaze down towards the wooden table.  You saw his tapping fingers slowly make their way towards your hand that was rested on the table.

           Quickly, you moved your hand, and placed your engagement and wedding ring back on your left hand.  You did’t like cooking with your rings on in fear that they could fall down the drain if you were washing your hands, “Uh, Thanks for the lesson, I’ll see you later.”

           You heard an audible sigh escape his lips, “See you next week, Mrs. Mendes.” 

           As fast as you could, you scurried out the door and saw your friend, Jessie, waiting for you outside.  She saw your flustered expression and smirked, “Looks like the teacher has a crush on the student.” 

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Married with Benefits (Part 12)

Summary: In order to not pay out-of-state tuition, you ask your friend, Steve Rogers, to marry you. Things, as always, never go as planned. (College AU)

Word Count: 861

“Married with Benefits” Masterlist 

Originally posted by skywalkersleia-archive


He ignored Bucky’s calls on his way back, his mind only focusing on you. Steve wanted to be close to you, wanted to hold you, wanted to be with you. There was no one else, there never had been. Sure, he had dated a few girls in college, but you had always stuck to the back of his mind and he was positive his relationships had been purposely tanked by himself because of his feelings for you.

He snorted. Personal sabotage. Who knew?

He opened your photo message again and looked at you, marveling at the sheer beauty of you. You were angelic, from your acne blemishes, to the small chicken pox scar you had under your right eye.

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I think I love you - Jughead Jones

Pairing : Jughead Jones x Reader

Word count : 1,484

Warnings : none

Requests are closed!

Originally posted by juptern

Your phone rang in the pocket of your jacket making you jump by surprise. You answered the call before showing your index to your friend Archie, meaning that it would only take a minute.

“Hi, this is (y/n) speaking.”

“Hey (y/n), how are you?” You instantly recognised the groggy voice behind the line.

“Jughead! I’m good! What about you?” From the corner of your eye, you would’ve swore you saw Archie rolling his eyes.

“Marvellous. So, what are you up to this evening? I thought we maybe could’ve hung out tonight. You know, me, you, at Pop’s?” You chuckled lightly.

“Sorry Juggie, I was planning on spending the night with Archie… You can tag along if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” A small sigh made its way into your ear. You had to admit that you spent a lot of your recent time with your new red-haired friend. Jughead still occupied the position of best friend. He didn’t have to worry about it.

“I promise we’ll do something together tomorrow, alright?” It was silence for a while before you heard back,

“Yeah sure.” You pursed your lips, mentally cursing yourself. It wasn’t the first time that you had turned down your best of friend for Archie. Lately it had been happening more than before. It made you feel like the worst pal.

“See you.” With that, Jughead hung up. You understood how he felt. It wasn’t right that you weren’t spending as much time with him.

“Jughead, wasn’t it?” You looked up and saw Archie sprawled across the black beanbag in your bedroom. His hands were attached on the new acoustic guitar his dad had got him for his birthday. You nodded and played with the sleeves of you sweater. Your friend continued strumming the strings of his instrument.

“Hey- I wrote this song last week, and I wanted to know what you thought about it. I’ve been trying to talk to Josie about her playing some of my compositions, but she’s not that into it. You’re her friend, right? Maybe you could listen to it and try to talk to her?” He asked questioningly.

“Of course, go ahead.” His fingers moved to the tuners and accorded them as his other hand rested on the waist of the guitar. A few seconds later, a pleasant melody filled the room. Archie then started singing the lyrics he had written. The song wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was quite catchy. The redhead friend of yours had talent. Before Archie could go on, you blurted out something you soon would regret.

“I’ll probably spend the day with him tomorrow.” The small tune that Archie had started suddenly came to an end. Archie hadn’t spoken to Jughead since this summer. The tree of you and Betty we’re supposed to go on a road trip the fourth of July but Archie left you hanging at the last minute. Since then, the boys stopped talking completely. When you mentioned one of  them to the other, you saw the irritation and annoyance in their expression.

“I thought you were coming to my game tomorrow. I’m playing in the varsity football team this year, remember?” You bet your lip and fiddled your hair with your fingers.

“I’m sorry Arch. I haven’t seen Jughead in a while now and I don’t want him to feel like I stopped being his friend. I’m making a vow that I’ll show up to your next game, how about that?”

“Why does it always have to be about him? Everything constantly has to be about Jughead.” Your were caught off guard by the sudden raise in his voice.

“That’s not it… I’m just trying to do what’s best here.”

“By ditching me at the last minute, that’s how your making things better? I didn’t think of you as an inconsiderate and selfish person.” He replied bitterly. In all the time of you guy’s friendship, you had never seen this side of Archie. Usually, he would be sweet and just shrug off any problem that faced his way. But the words he had just told you, they hurt your heart. Your eyes were starting to fill up with tears and your bottom lip started quivering.

“I’ve spent all my time with you for the last month. You. Not Jughead. Why are you treating me like this?”

“You know what? I don’t want to spend any more of my time with you right now.” With that, Archie got up and left you alone in your room. Without even noticing, a trail of tears had made its way down your cheeks. A sob escaped your mouth and your hands covered your face as you poured your heart out. You laid in your bed and continued crying.

It was all your fault. Archie now hated you and would probably never talk to you again. Why did you had to be so stupid? If only you had kept your mouth shut. Maybe he still would have been on that beanbag, singing.

Maybe half an hour later, you heard the wooden creek of your door meaning that someone was coming in. You didn’t even move, your pillow pressed against your face. The mattress shifted to the side from the sudden weight that it now had on it. You felt a piece of your hair being put behind your ear. You smiled at the sweet gesture and assumed it was your mother. You slowly got up and saw Jughead sitting beside you. Automatically, you vaulted in his arms tearing up once again.

“Sssh. It’s going to be okay.” He rubbed your back comfortingly. Your forehead was against his chest, his two upper limbs protectively holding you. Your eyes were probably red from all the crying but you couldn’t care less. You continued sobbing in his chest until you eventually felt calmer.

“Why- Why are you here?” You asked with a small voice. Jughead gently whipped your cheek with his thumb.

“Your mom saw Archie leave in a rush and realized that you two probably had a fight. She heard you crying and thought that you would be more willing to speak about it with me than her.” You grinned at the boy.

“I ruined your shirt.” You noticed, and felt guilty.

“Nothing to worry about (y/n/n). I never liked that jersey anyway.” You giggle with your best friend. You sniffed and observed Jughead who his face was only about a foot away from you. You had to admit that he was good looking. His prefect blue eyes were mesmerising and his pink lips appeared so kissable. Forever you considered the boy as nothing more than a platonic relationship to you. Never had you ever felt anything for him. But in that moment, something clicked. Jughead wasn’t only a friend to you, not even a best friend.  A stronger feeling overwhelmed your body. You felt love. You loved Jughead Jones. 

He was the one who your mother called when you were sad. He was the one who came rushing to your house as soon as your mother hung up. He was the one who was holding you and comforting you, whispering sweet nothing to you as you were crying. He was the one who was there for you.

“Jughead.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“(y/n)?” You asked yourself in your mind if it was the right time to confess your feelings towards him. Your breathing started quickening as the anxiety rose in your core.

“I think I-” He watched you with intending eyes, indicating to continue your phrase.

“I think I love you.” Jughead eyeballed you, astonished at your revelation. He quietly answered, almost inaudible for you to hear.

“I think I love you too.” He leaned towards you and slowly pressed his lips to yours. Fireworks were going off in your stomach. The heaviness on your shoulders disappeared. In this moment, nothing else mattered in the world. Both of your lips moved in sync as you played with his raven locks. His arms pulled you closer to him, leaving no space between you two. Jughead backed away and kissed every each of your face, including your cheeks, temple and chin.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a last long peck on the lips before saying,

“Do you want to lay down and cuddle with me?” He moved his head up and down calmly and took a blanket that was already on the bed to cover you. Cuddling was not something new for the both of you. You had always cuddled together, and whenever. His hand ran through your hair bringing a comforting and fuzzy feeling. His body pressed behind your back and his hot breath was tingling your neck. Before you even knew it, you and Jughead had fallen in a deep slumber, both dreaming about each other.

*gif is not mine!!

Wrong

Originally posted by lumos025

Summary: Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung bullied you in high school and by some sick joke the universe was playing on you, 2 years later Jungkook was attending the same University as you. Even sicker joke was being stuck with him doing a project on ‘Sex in Cinema’ for a whole semester. Go figure.

Words: 8083

Warnings: Smut, a lot of dirty talk holy shit (I can’t help it), oral, masturbation, overstimulation.

2 years earlier:

You walked down the road, almost around midnight, trying to get home as fast as possible the chilly rainy weather. Not to mention the truck that was trailing behind you and the screams and shouts of “wait up thunder thighs!” and “stop running away like a little bitch!” coming from the 3 boys who occupied it. Wrapping your arms around yourself to feel just an ounce of warmth, you willed yourself to ignore these bastards and walk faster. ‘I’m almost home, I’m almost home’ repeating it like a mantra in your head. Really, it was a stupid idea to think that you could enjoy a last high school party with your friends who were the complete opposite of you. After all, when the three most popular boys of the school were determined to make your life a living hell, why would anyone else want to treat you different in this extremely cliché scenario. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly was it about you that made them hate you so much.

From the time that you can remember, and you remembered a lot, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook had always despised you. It’s like they couldn’t stand your existence. When you would be at the library helping out by staying late, they would wait after school, yes they would go out of their way to stay at school longer, to make sure that your walk home was as stressful as possible. Making fun of pretty much anything and everything you did was a normal occurrence. You had just learned to live with it, but not today.

You suddenly started to slow your pace. They are cowards, you thought. What can they possibly do? Always taunting, always calling names, always making you feel shit about anything you took interest in. But they were all talk, right? You thought, huffing out. People like them walk in groups because they can’t actually do anything alone. You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly stopped and turned around slowly. The truck that the boys were trailing behind you also slowed and stopped a few meters away.

The one driving was Jimin, while Taehyung sat beside him and Jungkook stood, head poking out of the truck’s opening in the ceiling. You stood defiantly, shaking from the growing rain, your hair soaked and hands tightly by your side. Silently daring them to charge the truck towards you. ‘They won’t do it, they’re cowards’ you thought, your confidence growing slowly. You couldn’t tell where this adrenaline rush had come from to give you such courage to finally stand your ground, just a few weeks away from graduation. You could see Taehyung’s cunning, and terrifyingly psychotic grin widening as he relentlessly whispered in Jimin’s ear, whose grip on the wheel was tightening as he looked you right in the eyes. Jungkook was laughing. He apparently found the situation so amusing, that you decided now to grow a spine and challenge them. Suddenly, the sound of the engine revving was as loud as the rain.

It all went pretty much downhill from there. The last thing you remembered was your too loud heartbeat, the bright flash from the truck and Jungkook’s face suddenly forming a horrified expression as if he wasn’t just laughing at you.

Present day:

You weren’t looking for him specifically among the crowd flooding into the lecture hall. But something did happen inside you when you spotted him. A kind of lightness, or a lifting of some heavy part of yourself. Everything was settling into a nice, normal routine. You were going about your daily lives in an ordinary manner, and you were doing it completely separately.

He sat in the fourth row, and you sat at the back. Only now there was no rising sense of dread. You didn’t keep your hand to yourself when the lecturer asked a question. You answered, without the background sound of someone snickering. And even when it felt as though he was looking at you, when you snuck a glance at him you only ever saw the back of his head.

He bent low over his notes, and his head occasionally lifted a little as he really listened to whatever the lecturer was saying. Once or twice you actually caught him nodding, or doing a little staggered-looking half laugh over some ridiculous concept. As if he loved it all now.

He loved it so much he was sometimes at the lectures early. You would come in with Y/B/F, still giggling over something ridiculous, and get the faint prickle that told you he was already there. Only now when it happened it didn’t make you want to cover yourself up, or run and hide. There was nothing to hide from. Everything was going to be super cool and totally fine from here on in. Or it would have been, if it were not for the group project. The one that you were so excited for that you didn’t process it when your lecturer started reading out the names. You would be working with Y/B/F—that was a given. You were going to watch ridiculously filthy movies together and laugh about bobbing butts and ogle Ewan McGregor’s penis.

And then you heard his name.

Followed by yours.

Distantly, like in a dream of being in class.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you have a problem with that assignment?”

Everyone was looking at you now. No—not just looking. Examining, as though You had become a new and baffling species. The girl who was not excited about the idea of spending a whole semester with Jungkook. The creature who seemed horrified at the prospect of working with him. It made it difficult to do anything at all, even with Y/B/F urging you to say yes, yes I do have a fucking problem. Though you still didn’t expect the shake of your head to happen. Just one little accidental shake of your head and that was it. Your lecturer moved on to his next victim, leaving you in something You once had a nightmare about in ninth grade. Working with Jungkook. On a semester-long project.

About sex in cinema.

“Don’t worry, we can fix this. Just go to his office and talk to him privately about it. He would have to be Satan himself to not understand,” You heard Y/B/F whisper. But the words seemed even further away than you name had when your lecturer read it out.

“Right. Right. Yeah. You’re right.”

“I can come with you if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. That’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been punched. In the face. With a small nuclear blast.”

“I’m sure,” You said, but soon came to regret that firmness in your voice. The steady nod that told Y/B/F it was okay for you to go in a different direction once you were outside. It only meant that you were on your own when you got to the tiny hallway outside your lecturer’s door.

And saw that Jungkook was already waiting. Of course he was—he probably had the same concerns as you. No matter how sorry he was or what he thought of being in the red and being wrong, he would never want to work in close quarters with you for the entire semester. In fact, him being sorry likely made the situation seem worse to him. Most likely he had calculated all the awkward conversations you guys would have to have and how far apart he would have to stand to keep you comfortable, and found it as unbearable as you did.

Even though his expression seemed to say something else.

Oh god. His expression was saying something else.

Then he held up his hands, as though to calm you.

And you knew.

“All right, Y/N, I know that you’re probably thinking it’s way better if you do this project with that gal pal of yours, but wait, okay? I got reasons why this is gonna be fine.”

“Is that seriously why you’re here? To stop me asking to switch us?”

“Well…no. Not stop you exactly. Stop is a really strong word.”

“While I’m glad you’ve learned that—” You said, your voice briefly catching when you saw his wince. He winced, your mind hissed, before you forced yourself to finish. “I still think it covers what’s happening here.”

“I just wanted to talk to you about it for a second. Just, like, hear me out.”

“I want to. I really do. But come on. You know I wasn’t born yesterday. This has all the hallmarks of some kind of trap or prank or joke at my expense.”

“How could it possibly be a trap or prank? He put people together based on…I don’t even know what he put people together based on. But it couldn’t have had anything to do with me.”

You searched his face, looking for the lie. Waiting for him to show some hint of bullshit, beneath those too-kind eyes and his spread hands and the obvious logic of what he was saying.

Only there was nothing, nothing, nothing.

And it made no difference at all.

“Okay, I buy that. I do. Yet the fact still remains: I cannot do a project with you. Ever. You have to know that doing anything like that is completely impossible for me. Right?”

“I was just thinking that maybe…maybe you could give it a chance. You know, now that we’re on speaking terms and everything is almost cool between us.”

“You think everything is cool between us?”

“Well, maybe not cool exactly. More like…okay.”

“Still need to dial it back a notch, chief.”

“Reasonable? Not bad? Kind of semi decent?”

“That last one is getting close.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging.

Relenting, you thought. He’s actually relenting.

“Fine, we are a fucking disaster.”

“Now you’re getting the idea,” You said.

“But I figure we can work on it.”

“By doing a project on sex in the cinema together?”

“Well,” he said. “When you put it like that it sounds dumb.”

“There’s no other way to put it! That is literally what you’re suggesting.”

“Yeah, I get that. I just…want to not get that. I want it to be easier or better or just not the way this is.”

“That could have been my daily prayer in high school, Jungkook.”

He didn’t react the way you expected to, with more weird arguing.

He just closed his eyes.

He closed them like someone had just told him his family had been in a fatal accident.

“I wish I could go back and start over again. More than wish—I would give everything I have to start over again. The wrestling, this scholarship, every party I ever went to and every fun thing I ever did. And you can choose to not believe me about that, but—”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Then why does this have to be such a big deal?”

You thought of Y/B/F saying attempted murder.

“Y/N that is fucking attempted murder. Babe, you don’t have to feel bad about anything you put him through now. His friends and him included, ran you over with a fucking truck. How much physio and other therapy sessions did you have to go through because of them, huh?”

The terror that used to flood you when he walked down the hall.

That ever-present sensation of a grille barrelling into your body.

“Because understanding that someone is truly sorry and wanting to spend huge amounts of time with them are two different things. I might see that you mean this, and know rationally that I can almost sort of trust you. Maybe I even want it to be that easy, too. But your face is the one I had nightmares about for two years. Your smile doesn’t seem happy to me. I associate it with cruelty.”

You shook your head. Glanced away from him so you didn’t have to see the defeated look on his face.

“It’s hard for me to look at you, Jungkook, no matter how much I appreciate what you’ve done here.”

“That was a really well-thought-out and logically sound speech.”

“I know it was. I’m pretty proud.”

“And I have no argument against it.”

“You don’t need one. What you’ve done here…” You gritted your teeth hard and looked at the ceiling. But this time it didn’t stop the tears. They were already welling up by the time You explained the rest to him.

“It means a lot. And a million men would never have done the same, I can promise you. I don’t have any messages from Jimin on my phone. Taehyung isn’t going to call anytime soon. It’s just you, a rare fantasy in the middle of all this dismal reality.”

He turned around when you were done. All the way around—and then his arms went up to cover his head and you understood. What you said had affected him, strongly. Maybe more than his words had affected you. It took him twice as long to get it together, and even after he had he couldn’t quite look at you. He just kept staring at the wall and clenching his jaw.

And saying things. Oh yeah, he said things, in a strained, shaky voice.

“I meant what I said, you know. That you are the very best.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to ask you not to say it again.”

“I can’t stop. I have the opposite of whatever idiocy infected me in high school.”

“What, like insane-need-to-compliment fever?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

“Well it has taken a raging hold of you, let me tell you.”

“I know it seriously cannot be stopped.”

“I think you have a terminal case.”

“Not a bad way to go, if you ask me,” he said, so soft and sincere it took all your strength to stop yourself smiling in response. You could feel your lips trembling. Your cheeks ached with the effort of pinning them down, yet still You knew you were failing. You could see it in his satisfied expression.

And hear it in his words.

“That’s better. Seeing you look happy.”

“I am happy,” You said, then added without thinking: “Are you?”

Of course you didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a polite habit, based on interactions with people other than Jungkook. People who had actual problems, who lived troubled lives, who might answer with a god no. Jungkook would never need to answer with a god no. His life was full of endless possibilities and unfettered glory. He could snap his fingers and have a thousand people follow him to the ends of the earth.

He even looked that way, in the dim light of the narrow hallway between these offices.His hair was the colour of dark chocolate. Every item of clothing suited him perfectly, from the rich grey-blue of his V-neck to the jeans he’d tucked into his timberlands. He exuded cool from every pore; he could have stepped off the cover of a magazine. Yet all you could see was his face as it slowly sagged. It was like watching someone cut the strings that had held a mask in place—a mask you hadn’t known he was wearing. You thought that smiling golden god who had tormented you was the real him, but for a second you couldn’t be sure. Just for one heart-rattling second, and then the door to the office opened and that glimpse of something else was gone—so fast You would imagine later that it had never existed. It was just a trick of the light.

Better to focus on the real and the now.

“What can I do for you two today?” Professor asked.

Then you took a breath and answered.

“Nothing,” You said.

A few weeks later:

After that day, you didn’t know how or why you suddenly decided to give working with him a try, but so far, it was going…. okay. You two met up at the library, took your notes, glancing at each other once in a while, mostly Jungkook, asking each other questions relevant to your awkward topic given the situation and that was that. He made jokes sometimes that managed to get out a few carefree laughs out of you as well. It was all… comfortable. Nothing that you had expected. That is why, you decided, it was time to move on to watching actual movies for references, in your project.

It was nearly one in the morning, on a Wednesday night when you went to get him as your friend was out and that was the only time Jungkook was free after wrestling practice. Everyone was in bed, and it gave an eerie feeling to your journey back to your dorm.

As did his silence.

He was always talking—You realized that then. Sometimes he practically kept up a running commentary on everything and anything, yet here he was as quiet as stone. And it wasn’t because he was exerting himself. He didn’t breathe hard once the whole time. He could have been carrying a backpack full of air. But the idea of mental trouble lingered. When you tilted your head a little, you could practically hear his mind going over and over things, in a way that just wasn’t like him. He was easy-going. Happy-go-lucky. He never worried about things the way you did.

Until now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You just seem a little…”

Like an ominous statue of yourself.

“I was just thinking what movie we should watch.”

“Oh. Oh. You mean…right now?” You asked.

“Well, that’s what you came to get me for.”

“That’s true, I did come and get you for that.”

“Unless you don’t want me in your room so late.”

“No, no why would I…no, that’s cool.”

“You’re in the Jubilee Building, right?”

You had the strongest urge to ask him how he knew. But that seemed just as weird as objecting to him being in your room.

“Yeah. You just go past the science block and then—”

“Right, right, right I got it, I got it. The statue of Heo Nanseolheon is outside it, yeah?”

“That’s the one. Then it’s the third floor. Don’t worry though, there’s an elevator.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Do you wanna let me unlock the door?” you asked standing behind him when you both reached your dorm.

“Oh shit, yeah. Yeah, go ahead,” he said moving his bulky body out of the way as you slid past him to unlock the door. Everything had returned to the way it should be now between you and Jungkook.

Except for the sexy movie you were now going to watch.

Alone. Together. On your bed. In the middle of the night.

You let him pick the movie, thinking that would make things easier somehow. Nothing could be misconstrued, at least, that way. He wouldn’t think you meant anything by your choice, whatever it might be. But you forgot that he might mean something with his choice. You watched the heroine trying to clumsily pick up the hero at the start of White Palace, and cringed so hard it felt more like a cramp in your gut. Your cheeks grew hot, in a way that made you grateful for the dim light of your feeble bedside lamp.

Otherwise he would see your face go red and know you understood his point—despite the fact that his point was fucking nonsense.

“This is even less realistic than Dirty Dancing.”

“Really? You think so? Like, in what way?” You asked.

“It just seems like she keeps pushing and pushing. No woman would push a guy that good-looking if he didn’t seem into it. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing.”

You didn’t look at him, but knew he shrugged.

His arm rubbed against yours as he did it.

“Maybe she doesn’t care.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe she knows he’s actually into it.”

“That could be one explanation.” Jungkook says, sighing.

“Plus she obviously gets exactly what she was looking for.” He adds.

Onscreen, Susan Sarandon was going down on James Spader.

Which to you didn’t seem to back up his point at all.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure she’s having a great time getting absolutely nothing out of this.”

“That’s what this looks like to you? Like she’s getting nothing out of this?”

“Well, in movies they make it look like she is. But I doubt she really would be.”

“You doubt that giving a guy a blow job could be enjoyable for a woman.”

You glanced at him then, just to see if his expression was as incredulous as his voice.

Then had to look back at the screen quickly. If anything, his expression was worse. He had one eyebrow raised, and there was almost no humour in his eyes. This was serious somehow. Much too serious.

“I don’t know. I mean it’s not really something you do for your own enjoyment. You do it for his.”

“So to you there’s nothing pleasurable about it. Nothing sexy about having a guy at your mercy. Begging you, moaning for you, trying not to push too deep when it gets too good.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do those things?”

The words came out too fast. Too disbelieving, too.

But You just couldn’t stop them. They ripped out of you before you had time to talk it over with you mind, all ragged around the edges and maybe a little breathless. Just enough that he likely heard it, and wondered why. You couldn’t tell him, however. You didn’t know yourself. You only knew that when he started talking again, you had the urge to put your fingers in your ears.

“Of course I do those things. Having your cock sucked is fucking amazing,” he said, which was absolutely fine.

But then he kept going.

He kept going.

“The heat and the slickness and her looking up at you as she works it with her hands and lips and tongue. Especially the tongue. The tongue is the best part. Watching it curl right around the—”

“Well, okay, it sounds cool when you put it that way.”

God your voice sounded loud. And too fast again, too. All your words practically jumbled together.

“I don’t know what other way it could possibly be.”

“How about hold still while I fuck your face? Some guy coming right in your eye? Losing a chunk of hair because he pulled too hard?”

“You’re not serious. Tell me honestly. None of that happened.”

Now his voice was bright with amusement. But it didn’t make you feel any better.

“All of that happened. To me. More than once.”

“Yeah but after…”

“After what?”

“After he came then he…”

He made a circle with his hand bobbing his head, as though you should know that one thing logically followed on from the other. It was all completely easy and obvious.

Instead of the hardest quiz you had ever had to get through. “Then he what? Gave me cab fare?”

“No. No. After that then this happens.”

You glanced at the thing he was pointing at.

Then had to look away again, quick. At your hands, at the bedspread.

At him, as he oh-so-slowly realized what your sudden awkwardness meant.

“This has never happened to you. Holy shit. You’ve never had a guy go down on you.”

“I have had a guy go down on me. I totally have.”

“Are you sure about that? You don’t look sure.”

“Well, maybe not like this.”

“There’s no other way to do it. This is actually the most basic, ordinary way to go about eating pussy.”

At those words, you could feel the fire burning on your cheeks and your breathing getting laboured. Jungkook really had no filter.

“Yeah, but this seems really exciting and sexy and hot.”

“Going down on a girl is really exciting and sexy and hot. Like I said about giving a guy head? Exactly the same principle. You get to see you writhe and shake and push herself against your mouth. Just like that, just like Sarandon is doing. Look at her. Look at her.”

“I am. I am looking,” You said, but You weren’t, not really.

You were thinking of the shiver that had gone through you when he said look, soft as butter and so oddly tender. And the way that he was looking himself, eyes almost far away.

Like he was seeing Sarandon, but putting someone else in her place.

“Think about how it must feel.”

“Yeah I can…I get that…”

“Think about his tongue slowly easing over her soft folds.”

“Is that…how…is that what you…” You said, breathlessly “Uh-huh.”

“And it works?”

You voice was a whisper now. But that was okay. His was, too. It was so low he had to lean close to ask you questions. He had to meet your gaze, and You had to meet his.

“What works?”

“It makes you…you know. Cum.”

“Oh yeah. But you gotta take your time.”

“I see. I guess that makes sense.” You were just babbling now, trying to keep up with him.

“Let it build, nice and slow. Start by just stroking her with your fingertips. Work her, you know, until her lips part. And then when she’s all open to you, you just trace the shape of her with your tongue. Lick and lick in these ever decreasing circles until you’re right…fucking…there.”

“Where? Where…where are you?”

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew you shouldn’t as soon as it was out. Your faces were too close together now, and his body seemed to be looming over yours. That was his shoulder, almost nudging your chin. And his thigh, pressing deep and hard into yours. His answer was never going to make any of this better.

Then it came, hotter than molten lava and twice as destructive.

“Her clit. Her slick, swollen clit.”

“I see. That makes sense,” You said, even though that wasn’t what you wanted to go with.

No, what you wanted to go with was more like oh my fucking God this can’t be reality.

“Then you just…stroke it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Until she’s mindless.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Doesn’t even know what she’s saying anymore, or doing. She might tell you to bite, to fuck her with your tongue and fingers, harder or faster or some word that doesn’t even make sense. Hips coming up to meet you, greedy for it, horny for it, so horny she barely notices that her hand is in your hair and she’s squeezing tight enough for it to sting, so close to coming that her whole body is shuddering and shivering and flushing that deep, good pink. Soon as you see it you just know she’s burning. That her clit is aching and throbbing and her pussy is all open and slippery, and one more second of this will make her come. She’s already coming, before you even know where you’re at. Hard, hard, hard, like she never has before.”

You were holding your breath by the time he was done. You practically had to—his face was so close now you could have blinked and brushed his cheek with your eyelashes. Every word he said seemed to stroke against your face, cool at first but then more heated. As though he was starting to boil alive inside, too. Certainly he looked that way. You have never seem him flushed like this, not even when he pushed himself during a match.

Not even when he was embarrassed.

Though you supposed that wasn’t a common occurrence. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed now, and he’d just said all those words. He said clit and pussy and slippery, as if that was just a normal way to talk to your friend. And he did it all without flinching, too. Without glancing away or putting some distance between you. In fact, those eyes of his—now heavy lidded and so soft focus—seemed intent on you more than they ever had been before. They skittered all over you face, searching for something you had no idea how to give.

You didn’t even know what the something was.

You only knew that it made you forget yourself, just as he had described.

It made you search his face back, marvelling over every brutish line and gentle curve. Those lips of his, as plump as a girl’s yet so masculine at the same time. Every inch of them gleaming, as if he’d slicked them with gloss in anticipation of a kiss. Though even in that moment you didn’t really believe you wanted that. Until he whispered, low and heavy against your own lips.

“You can, you know.”

“Can what?”

“Touch yourself.”

It jolted you, when he said it.

But not as much as realizing why he said it.

You followed his gaze down, and took in the unmistakable sight of your hand in your lap. Really, really high up in your lap. Almost between your legs, in fact—though that was fine, it was cool, it was okay. You stuttered ‘no, no I didn’t really want to do that’, but it didn’t matter.

Because his hand was actually between his legs.

“I do,” he said.

As the whole world as You knew it dissolved right in front of your eyes.

“You do?”

“Fuck, yes. I’m dying to.”

“Because of the film. Because of the movie.”

“Sure. We can say that, if you want.”

You closed your eyes. Swallowed thickly.

Wished hard that he hadn’t added that last part.

“If we could that would be awesome.”

“No problem. I mean it was probably inevitable that this would happen to us.”

“Probably, yeah. Almost definitely, in fact.”

“Just a natural response to a sexy movie.”

“Seems that way to me.”

“So you just slip your hand under your waistband, and I’ll slip my hand under mine,” he said, which was fine all on its own. The problem was that he then went ahead and did it. You tried not to look, but saw anyway. You saw the way he fumbled in his haste, as though all his talk was only calm on the surface. Underneath, something was paddling frantically. It was making his cheeks pink and his body all trembly.

And his dick hard. God, his cock was hard.

You could see that without even trying at all. The curving shape beneath his sweatpants was enormous and unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been, his hand made it pretty clear. As You watched, he eased it over that solid length, before finally clasping it in a way that shoved the swollen head right up against the tented material. Now You could make out ruder details, like the thick ridge around the head, and the slit at the tip. Both pronounced, explicit, rude.

But that wasn’t what really got you.

It was the way he stopped to lick his palm, before shoving it

under his waistband.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god, are you serious?”

“It’s cool. it’s fine. We don’t even have to look at each other.”

“No I guess not. I guess…I guess that I can just watch the screen.”

“We’re just two people getting off over a hot movie.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”

But that wasn’t strictly true. You weren’t getting off over the movie at all. Nothing was even happening anymore—it was just rich people looking down their noses and arguments over a Dust buster. If anything, it was vaguely depressing, rather than lust-inducing. Yet still You sat there, face burning, body tender and rigid all at the same time. Half of you stuffed so full of embarrassment and shock you sort of wanted to block everything out, the other half just shamelessly straining to hear every single tiny sound he made. Never daring to look, of course, but then…

You really didn’t need to.

He made so much noise that you could make out almost everything. Every little moan and gasp—and there were a lot of them, too. Lots of thick, guttural moans that started on an ah and ended with a kind of abrupt sigh, as though a knife had sliced through his throat before he could finish. So many soft mmms and gasps, like he honestly couldn’t get enough of whatever he was doing.

Though it was the whispers that hit you hardest. They got you right in the gut, low down and deep enough to ache. Oh yeah, he murmured, as though the hottest sex in the world was happening onscreen. As though they were fucking like animals, up and down and left and right. His tone even sounded sort of tremulous, and it got more intense as time went on. Soon he was panting, and rocking, and every now and then uttering something he was clearly imagining himself doing.

“Ah, yeah, suck my cock, just like that,” he said.

Then just to make it extra agonizing, he spat into his hand.

To make it extra slick, you thought, like someone’s mouth. Someone sucking him the way he’d described, slow and steady until he was actually shuddering, right here and now. The bed was moving, at least, and it wasn’t because he was working that cock hard. He wasn’t. He was going slow, so slow, squeezing and rolling rather than the short, fast kind of thing You’d always thought guys did. They almost never seemed to do anything else in porn…but then again they never did all this other stuff, too. You dared to turn you head a little more and saw to your astonishment that he had his hand pressed to his mouth. He was almost biting his fist, chest heaving, body shivering all over—but most important, eyes closed.

He couldn’t even see you looking. You were free to do as you pleased.Yet something held you back. You couldn’t seem to do more than peek out of the corner of you eye, and even that made you feel strange. You kept getting this clenching sensation—sort of like embarrassment or humiliation—and it got worse when his back arched. When he actually said out loud that he was almost there, that he was so close, that he was gonna come all over your duvet. I need something to do it on, he said, and even that had a shameful frisson of its own. You had a brief flash of him kneeling up and suddenly coming all over your face, or maybe pulling down that ridiculously large neck hole to expose your breasts.

Followed by an image of that thick white liquid coating you, striping you face, dripping off your tight little nipples. Him pushing his cock past your lips to finish off, groaning as he flooded your mouth.

And he would have flooded it, too. You glanced at him just in time to see him shove his sweatpants down, that big dick swelling under the pressure of his too-tight grip. Thick ribbons of come already hitting his bared belly, over and over until you were sure he must be done. He had to be, yet more kept flowing over his still-working fist. You watched it run down over his fingers in slippery trails before pooling in his lap.

Though none of it was what you kept seeing behind your eyes in the aftermath. Instead, you saw the way his face had looked as he shot his load. The open mouth, and the closed eyes, and most of all the strange, wrenching vulnerability that had covered him for a moment. No mischief, no macho bullshit—just a completely open and abandoned sort of ecstasy.

And all of it for you.

He knew you had watched him. He still knew now. You flicked your eyes back to the screen as he started to catch his breath, but the first thing he did was include you.

“Guess I kind of made a mess here,” he said, everything about his tone suggesting two conspirators, finishing off their evil deed. You even got up after he’d said it, to get him a tissue.

Though when You got back he’d pretty much taken care of most of it.

You stopped in the doorway to the bathroom at the sight: Him, casually licking his messy fingers.

It took you a good two minutes after that to go over to him, with your fistful of toilet paper. And when you did go, it was on very shaky legs. Your whole body felt shaky, in fact—though not in any way you’d experienced before. This was like being full to the brim with something burning hot, skin so close to ripping that it couldn’t keep still. Sometimes you thought you could see it shivering slightly under the strain, and every inch of it was tender, so tender. His leg brushed yours as you sat down, and it was agony. You even winced—then immediately regretted it.

He had been concentrating on clean-up. Now he looked up at you sharply.

And asked questions You were loathing to answer.

“Have you…not? I mean have you not—”

“I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t.”

“God, you must be bursting.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.”

The problem was though; you didn’t seem fine.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Your hands were fists on your thighs.

And of course he could see all of that.

“You look like you’re bursting.”

“Oh yeah? And what does bursting look like?”

“Your voice is shaking.”

“Is it?” You asked, voice so light it almost passed.

Almost, almost, almost.

“Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Are they?”

“And then there’s the fact that your nipples are like diamonds. Fuck, look how stiff they are. Isn’t that agonizing, having them like that? I bet your clit’s the same. Bet your pussy is so wet. So wet you’re making a mess of the nice, clean clothes.”

Your cheeks grew hotter and hotter as he whispered each word. By the time he was done they felt like they were going to melt right off you face. That tense, cringing feeling in your stomach was ten times worse, and that was before he got to the last point. The one about the clothes, and the mess, and oh god what if he was right? It felt as if he might be. You weren’t wearing any underwear, and everything was really slippery between your legs. You could feel it, every time You moved.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry I don’t…I hope…it’s just that—” You didn’t even know why you were apologizing

“Honey, you don’t need an explanation.”

His tone was like sinking into a warm bath—and the thumb you could feel stroking over you forearm only pulled you deeper down. He just did it so idly. So like he wasn’t touching you at all.

Before you knew it, you were up to your ears in liquid heat.

“Are you sure? Because it kind of feels like I do.”

“I’m sure. I mean, the movie was pretty intense.”

“Right, exactly. Super intense.”

“So why deny yourself?”

“I’m not…denying…anything.”

“I could leave, if you want.”

“No, god no,” You said, too fast and too fierce.v

Though it was only afterward that you realized how it sounded: Not like someone trying to say you didn’t want to masturbate. Like someone saying that you wanted him to stay.

And he took it that way, too.

“Or, you know. I could just…do it for you,” he said.

Then you just had to do your best not to go out of your mind.

You stopped herself from jumping up. Kept your hands from flailing.

Didn’t look at him, in case looking made you do something crazy.

“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”

“I always take a lot.”

“Even when you’re alone?”

“Especially when I’m alone.”

“Well, maybe we should see about that.”

Again, you had the urge to get up. Maybe you even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking your arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of your arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of your throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing you there. It felt like kissing.

Only without the scariness of the real thing.

All of this was without the scariness of the real thing. It was just a game, that was all—and one that you could win if you really put you mind to it. He thought he could get you so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. You were a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. You were impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where you almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.

It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.

Not sexy in the least.

And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of your swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through you was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to your clit, or eased a finger into your slick little hole. In truth, you weren’t entirely sure he’d touched you at all.

Yet you still had to clench your jaw.

You had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching you, with his skill. He wasn’t skilful at all. He was terrible. Awful.

he worst lover you had ever had.

You had no idea why your thighs were trembling. Or what made you moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling you just what he found there.

“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Y/N, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all You could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for the feel of him doing it.

He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into you. There was no fumbling or searching. Your body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on you for hours. He knew exactly how to touch you there, and when he did you simply had to respond. Your gasp rung out in the small room.Though you vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good. you kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why was he the one who had to be so good at this? How did he know how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?

Even watching him do it was exciting. You made the mistake of glancing down and all you could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give you a glimpse of your glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way you were spread around that thick intrusion…

Fuck.

You had to look at the screen just to stop yourself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while you sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered your slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until you were so beside yourself you weren’t sure you even wanted to hold back your moans. You only knew that you were still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now. It just doesn’t matter, your mind hissed, but you kept it up anyway. You held yourself more tightly and bit deep into your lip—deep enough that you tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, you shut your eyes tight. You thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching. All to no avail. He made one circle around your clit.

Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it. Your orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away your control over your body—your toes curled tight and your back arched. But most important, it took away your control over your mouth. It let one little word slip out.

Though one little word was more than enough.

“Jungkook,” You said, and after that the game was pretty much up. That was gratitude in your voice and pleasure in the sigh behind it, and all wrapped in the neat little bow of his name. There was no more pretending that it wasn’t him who had made you feel this way, or suggesting that all of this was just a game.And he knew it immediately. He kept up the thrusts of his long, thick fingers, helping you prolong the feeling of your orgasm for as long as possible. And he didn’t stop there. Your face was starting to contort from the oversensitivity and it was obvious that Jungkook knew it too from the way he bit his lip and started to purposely move his fingers faster once again.

“Ahh! J-Jungkook… I can’t….” You moaned out, though this seemed to have no effect on him as he seemed determined to elicit another orgasm from you. His fingers scraping against your tightening walls as they fought to repeatedly slam back inside you. Your thighs were shaking, your eyes half lidded, leaning back on your hands as his worked between your legs. Suddenly you gripped Jungkook’s moving hand as you came dangerously close to letting go.

“That’s it, fuck, cum again for me Y/N. I need this. You need this” He almost sounded desperate and it made you want to sob because everything was so fucking hot.

With a cry of his name, you came undone again, your body almost curling in towards itself from the sensitivity.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” he said, as though you’d cried out the filthiest thing on the face of the earth. And, again, he didn’t stop there. You could hear him fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants already—though you tried to turn it into something else in your head. He was just pulling them up, you thought. They had slid down as he serviced you, that was all.

Only it wasn’t all.

When you made the mistake of glancing his way, you saw so much more than you were ready for. It was supposed to be over now, completely over, but he’d shoved everything down to mid-thigh and his cock was in his hand again and god god god why was it so arousing? You’d had cum twice already. He’d had one orgasm already, and now he was being so fucking filthy.

Yet somehow the filthiness only made it worse.

You came searingly close to telling him yes.

And go on.

And come all over me—just like you’d imagined.

For one wild second, it even seemed like he might. He was groaning and panting and he kept saying things, incredible things like “do you see what you do to me do you get how fucking horny you make me oh fuck just hearing you moan my name”. His hand was heavy on your shoulder, and you knew he was close. He was going to yank your top down any second now.

Any second, you thought.

Though you didn’t realize how much you wanted it until the first thick burst slid over his fist.

Didn’t know how little control you had over herself until he grunted your name and shuddered violently, that slick fluid easing over his still-pumping fist. After all, if you’d had any you would have stayed right where you were, content to just watch.Instead of leaning forward to take that heavy, swollen, slippery head in your mouth, to catch the last ribbons of his salt-sweet cum all over your eager tongue.

“Fucking fuck, Jagiya” Jungkook cursed loudly, watching you take the head of his cock in your mouth. He slid his hands in your hair, gripping it from the bottom of your skull gently, rocking your face back and forth, riding out the last of his high. You looked up at him, eye still glassed over, breathing hard and laboured and slid the head of him out of your mouth.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was shocked at your boldness but he seemed pleasantly surprised. His pupils blown out, lips swollen, skin gleaming. He truly was a work of art. The magnitude of what you two had done hit you hard. So, naturally, there was only one thing left to do in panic.

Kick him out.

“Jungkook…you need to leave”

A/N: So, Idk what happened but yeah hope you all enjoy. Not sure if I’ll make this a series since I’m bad at continuing ideas. I may stick to separate scenarios. I get bored easily. However, please feel free to check out my blog and send me ideas for new fics

“Growing Up a Winchester”  Sam/Dean x Sister Reader

Word Count: 3,867

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister Reader, some Castiel x Reader

Summary: While on a long road trip to a hunt, you reminisce about your memories growing up with your brothers, from the best ones, to the worst, to the most awkward.

Warnings: Mentions of death, language, angst, light smut between Cas and the reader

Flashbacks are in italics.

Originally posted by whoeveryoulovethemost

                                                            -

You’re sitting in the backseat of the impala, looking out the window at the scenery. Dean, of course, is driving, and Sam is sitting on the passenger side, sleeping. You have a hard time sleeping in the car, so on long car trips like this, you have a hard time. Thankfully, Dean is usually always awake as well, and serves as your entertainment.

Growing up as the youngest Winchester sibling was not always fun and games, especially being a teenage girl. As much as your brothers love you, they know absolutely nothing about teenage girls. You more often than not felt like you were raising yourself, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your brothers are your rock, and you would never leave them.

You can barely remember the first time you’d met Dean. Your dad, John, had gotten your mother pregnant and throughout the first four years of your life, he was very in and out of your life. He’d only show up at your house once a year, normally on your birthday. He’d call on holidays, but you were too young to hold a conversation. A little after your fourth birthday, your mother had passed away from cancer. You had nothing and no one else, and your dad John came to your rescue.

“Hey, kiddo.” John had told you, picking you up from the hospital. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes more prominent than you had ever seen them.

“Hi.” You say quietly. You didn’t really know what was going on. All you knew was that your mommy was in a better place and you were going to live with your dad. You remember being nervous, because to you, your dad was like a stranger. You knew nothing about him.

“Do you have your stuff? You’re comin’ to stay with me and your brother, Dean. Dean’s excited to meet you, you know.”

Keep reading

Teen Wolf Preference - Fake Dating

DEREK HALE

Derek couldn’t believe you had convinced him into doing this.

“You want me to what?” he’d asked, not sure if he’d heard you correctly.  

“I just need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for this event since… I kinda already told everyone that you’re my boyfriend and you were coming. There’ll be free food and alcohol and you won’t even have to talk to many people!”

This had naturally intrigued Derek but there had been something that he couldn’t help but ask you.

“Really? You picked me for your big fake boyfriend plan? You know I don’t… get along well with people around here. Why not Parrish?”

Derek could see Parrish pulling up now at the event in his police uniform. Parrish wasn’t a bad guy but Derek couldn’t help but clench his fists at the sight of him. He wasn’t one to get jealous easily but this guy just put his teeth on edge.

“Shit! Parrish! Why didn’t I think of that?” you’d said angrily, shaking your head, “well, it’s too late. Will you just please go with me, Derek? It’s just one night. We can fake break up the next day.”

Derek had then thought for a moment, making sure to avoid your eye. You had a particular pleading look that you often gave him that made it hard for him to ever say no to you. But he couldn’t resist and looked at you, and it was then that he decided that he was going to be a part of your fake dating charade and he was going to be the best fake date there ever was.

“You came!”

Derek was pulled out of his trance, turning to see you hurrying towards him with a grin on your face.

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

You shook your head, “I just wasn’t sure. Wow, you look really good, you should wear suits more often.”

“I always look good,” he offered his hand, smiling a little as you took it. Your hand was so tiny compared to his. “You don’t look too bad either.”

That was an understatement. Derek always thought you looked gorgeous but right now, he was so blown away by how beautiful you looked that he had to remind himself to breathe.

Gee, thanks. We’re running a bit behind – I’d planned to have at least 2 drinks by now.”

The event was in full swing and Derek felt like he was in high school again. First of all, the event was being held in the school’s hall as the community one was under construction and second of all, he found himself watching protectively over you as he heard several greasy men comment on how good you looked.

“I was wondering when the two of you were going to get together,” Jordan Parrish congratulated the two of you, avoiding Derek’s intimidating stare, “all (Y/N) ever talked about was ‘how hot Derek is’.”

Your eyes widened, taking a rather large sip of your drink as you elbowed Jordan ‘playfully’.

“I did not!”

All throughout the night people had approached you and Derek and gave similar comments (minus the snarky one Jordan gave), saying that they’d seen the two of you out on dates and were wondering when you were going to call it official. In all honesty, neither you or Derek had considered your outings to be dates but now that he was thinking back on it, he wondered if he should start considering them as just that.

Derek proceeded to smile as Jordan winced from the hit you gave him, “well, it was a surprise to me actually. I had always thought the two of you were going to get together.”

“Nah, (Y/N) has only ever had eyes for you!” Jordan glanced at your now nearly empty glass, “want a refill?”

“God, yes please. I’m gonna be needing something heavier at this rate.”

“Completely agree with you.” and with a wink, Jordan disappeared back through the crowd towards the bar and Derek shifted his focus back to you.

“I feel a bit stupid for being jealous of him now,” he admitted, smelling the embarrassment on you which only caused his smile to widen more. Derek honestly couldn’t remember smiling this much since he was a teenager and it turned out a lot of people at the event were being a lot kinder to him because of it.

“Yeah, well, I picked you as my fake boyfriend for a reason. It’s believable and everyone seems to already think it was happening.”

You wished Jordan would hurry up with that drink.

Derek could hear your heart racing and you glanced up at him, something seeming to occur to you as a surprised expression dawned on your face.

“Holy shit – you don’t actually like me, do you?”

He leaned closer to you, his grin seeming rather wolfish now.

“By the sounds of it,” he pointed to your heart, “you feel the same way.”

Derek was now the one taken aback as very quickly, you closed the gap between the two of you and pressed a hard kiss against his lips.

“Stupid werewolf powers.” Was all you said as a low growl came from the back of Derek’s throat, Jordan now walking up from behind you with drinks in his hand. Derek wanted to desperately kiss you just a little longer but as his eyes met briefly with yours, he knew the whole dating charade was going to become a lot more realistic and there was going to be endless amount of time to kiss you.


ISAAC LAHEY

“Sorry man. You probably won’t have a lot to contribute to the conversation considering you’ve never had a girlfriend,” Stiles teased for what felt like the millionth time as he and Isaac stood by the lockers waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.

Stiles had just asked him for advice for an upcoming date but then took it back quickly saying he probably would just ask Scott about it in the car. A low growl escaped Isaac’s lips as he tried to remind himself that Stiles just wasn’t worth it as the idiot seemed to get off on annoying him. And unfortunately, it was working and sometimes Isaac was just a bit impulsive.

“Well, not one that you know of.”

Stiles’s eyebrow quirked up and a Grinch like smile came across his face, wondering if he was hearing this right.

“A girlfriend in fourth grade doesn’t count,” he reminded and Isaac’s hands balled into fists.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Because it isn’t real, Isaac thought.

Stiles nodded, “oh, yeah right, sure, sure.”

The tone in his voice was enough for Isaac to glance around and see you and Lydia walking in the opposite direction of where he was standing. You and Isaac weren’t close but you got along like a house on fire, regularly working together on pack ‘missions’ or sometimes you just studied together in the library. He’d been asked several times if he was interested in you, all those times he just shrugged as an answer but if anyone was to believe he was dating someone, you would be a good candidate.

“(Y/N),” Isaac said, “(Y/N) and I have been dating.”

Stiles looked as if he’d just discovered gold.

“(Y/N)? You want me to believe that? She’s way out of your league!” and then he was shouting, “(Y/N)! Are you and Isaac dating?”

Lydia and you stopped your walking, Lydia raising her eyebrows at you as you turned around slowly. Everyone in the hallway seemed to go quiet, interested in this little bit of gossip and you met with Isaac’s horrified eyes.

“Uh, yes?” was all you said before continuing on your way, Lydia beginning to smack you excitedly at discovering this information as Stiles turning back to Isaac.

“I can’t believe you weren’t just fucking with me. You should invite her to come bowling with all of us tomorrow night – Lydia will be there so she won’t feel so weird. I seriously can’t believe you landed a girlfriend like that, fuck.”

Isaac couldn’t believe that he’d landed a fake girlfriend like that either.

That night, Isaac found himself climbing into your bedroom and nearly scaring you half to death.

“What the shit?” you hissed, pausing the show you were watching, “first you say we’re dating and now you’re climbing through my window? Did I miss something?”

He smiled sheepishly, brushing off a few sticks that got caught in his sweater while trying to climb up through your window.

“Uh, I know normal people just text but I thought I should just ask you in person. I didn’t really think this through –,”

You cut him off, “yeah, I can see that.”

“But, fuck this is stupid. Stiles was being a dick and I kind of just said you were my girlfriend so he’d leave me alone. I didn’t think he’d actually, uh, ask you about it but do… you wanna go bowling with the group of us tomorrow?”

You’d always had a crush on Isaac. He was one of the first guys to ever really notice you and see you for more than just your looks and you wanted to throw one of your pillows at him and demand he take you out on a proper date because you genuinely liked him. But even though he freaked you out a bit by abruptly climbing through your window at that time of night, you couldn’t resist him.

“Fine. But before you leave, I already answered a bunch of our relationship questions to Lydia so you’ll have to learn them. And you’re paying for my shoes and games for bowling. Oh, and when we fake break up, it’ll be a mutual break up and it can’t be weird.”

You weren’t particularly eager to be out bowling with the group. You got along well with everyone and they were being overly nice to you ever since they found out you and Isaac were ‘dating’. A few times Stiles had said to you ‘really, Isaac?’ but other than that, no one really questioned it. The people in the group who were wolves didn’t even suspect that the two of you were faking the whole ordeal because they could hear how fast your heart rates were when you were around one another, which made everything much easier.

“Lydia said she invited you to come earlier in the week but you said no.” Isaac said, his arm wrapped around you rather lazily as you watched Scott get up for his first go. It felt rather natural for the two of you to be like this, having small touches here and there and sneaking each other little glances. It was comfortable and you had to remind yourself that this was all supposed to be a charade.

“Uh, did I forget to mention that I can’t bowl?”

“You know you’re up next, right?”

You nodded, “yeah, that’s why I’m just a bit nervous.”

Scott got a strike, grinning as he turned to the group who were all rolling their eyes at the unfairness of him having werewolf abilities which were a rather big help in the situation. You wished you had the abilities because you had no idea what you were about to do.

“C’mon,” Isaac helped you to your feet, picking up your ball for you and beginning to walk towards your lane.

“Seriously? What are you doing?”

He handed you the ball, smiling a little and back at the seats the two of you were already earning a few ‘awes’.

“I’ll help you, it’s the least I can do,” he handed you the ball and you held it in the hand you were most comfortable with as he began to help line you up correctly, “aren’t we just relationship goals?”

You laughed rather nervously and Isaac stood behind you, his back pressed against yours and you did your best to concentrate on your bowling but it was proving to be difficult.

“Just move sort of like… this,” he murmured into your ear and as he showed you the throwing movement the second time around, you released the ball and it went flying down the middle of the lane, hitting all the pins except one.

“Oh my god,” a grin came across your face as you turned around to Isaac who couldn’t quite believe it either, “oh my god!”

You flung your arms around his neck, kissing him excitedly and Isaac nearly fell backwards at the sudden action. Eagerly though, he kissed you back, enjoying the feeling and hoping that you’d do this every time you did well in the game.

“How come you don’t do that when I do well?” Scott asked Kira from their seats and she nudged him playfully.

Realising that you had to bowl once more and everyone was watching the two of you with stupid grins on their faces, you shyly pulled away and began to walk back to get another ball. Triumphantly, Isaac walked back to the group who might as well have been clapping for him and Lydia patted his arm.

“It’s about time the two of you got together. (Y/N) always talked about how much she liked you but you just ‘didn’t like her back’. I swear if you break her heart I’ll break you.” She smiled sweetly and Isaac, who had to admit was a little intimidated, smiled back as you successfully knocked down your final pin.

“Not planning on it, Lydia.”


LIAM DUNBAR

“I think I left my lacrosse jersey at your place,” you were startled by your ex-boyfriend who was now standing beside your locker, an annoyed look on his face as if it were you fault that he’d misplaced his belongings.

“You never took any of your lacrosse gear to my house.” You told him coolly, shutting your locker which you weren’t actually done looking in and attempting to walk away from him. To your annoyance, he followed.

“Well, if you see it then tell me,” he said and you rolled your eyes. The two of you had been broken up for 3 months, you were certain you would have come across it by now. “How’re you going anyway? Any new guys in your life?”

The last bit he said with an amused tone, causing you to clutch your bag just a bit tighter. You knew if you said no that he’d proceed to tell you the long list of girls that were in his life now – some of which were in his life while the two of you were dating.

“Yeah, believe it or not I actually have a boyfriend.”

You saw a group of guys up ahead being rather rowdy and spotted Liam Dunbar, the guy you were planning to find just earlier because he’d promised you his research notes from one of your classes.

“Oh, really? Do I know them?”

You knew you should’ve just made up a name of some guy that went to another school but because you just happened to be looking at Liam, you couldn’t help it.

“Liam.”

Your ex looked surprised, “Dunbar? Seriously?”

At that moment, Liam looked up, having been listening in on your conversation and he was just as confused too. You couldn’t believe you picked someone so obvious – and someone that was on the same team as your ex as well. You weren’t going to get away with this.

“Um… yeah?”

Liam sensed your embarrassment and excused himself from the group of friends he was talking to. It was well known that he hated your ex and any opportunity to annoy him was valuable.

“Hey babe!” he said cheerfully as he approached you, trying not to laugh at how red you went as he placed a kiss on your cheek, “everything alright here?”

Your ex, to your relief, stepped away, “everything’s fine, man. (Y/N), if you see the jersey let me know.”

When your ex was safely out of sight, you turned to Liam who had a smug smile on his face.

“How – why?” you stammered, not really sure how you’d just managed that.

“I hate that guy,” he said, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone we’re not really dating. We make a cute couple anyway, even if it’s fake.”

“What? Liam, you don’t have to do this. I was just being stupid.”

He shook his head, “he’s just told about 5 people that we’re dating. It’ll be fun! We can get back at that guy all while doing our assignments. It’s a win-win situation.”

And so the fake relationship began. To your surprise, you greatly benefited from the situation. Creepy guys stopped bothering you, if you ever needed to get warm Liam was perfectly fine with you just walking into his arms while he talked with some friends and you ended up making more friends of your own. Some of the seniors he hung around became protective of you and Lydia Martin, of all people, started casually talking to you and giving you advice whenever you needed it. You often forgot that you weren’t really dating because whenever you were around Liam, your heart raced and you got butterflies as if you were actually hanging out with someone you had feelings for. It wasn’t until you sometimes saw your ex around the school who made snide and rude comments about the two of you that you remembered what was going on.

“You’re all sweaty,” you laughed as you and Mason went onto the field after one of the lacrosse games to congratulate Liam. He had a large grin on his face, pulling off his lacrosse helmet and Mason gave him a high five.

“Usually after sports people get sweaty. Weird, isn’t it?” Mason said as you gave Liam a short congratulatory hug, “poor Devenford Prep though… I should probably go and see if Brett’s alright…”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re really concerned about his feelings,” Liam said sarcastically as Mason ignored him, walking over to the opposite (and losing) team.

“So, how does it feel to win against your old school?”

“Quite amazing, actually,” he paused, “he’s watching again. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

You shrugged, knowing exactly who Liam was talking about, “maybe we should give him a show.”

You had been joking – kind of. And Liam knew that but he couldn’t resist. He dropped his helmet, cupping your face and kissing you passionately. You no longer cared about how sweaty he was as you kissed him back, a part of you relieved that you were finally getting to do this.

You pulled away slightly, smiling like an idiot and Liam began to lean in again.

“He’s not even watching anymore,” you told him and he shook his head.

“I just really like kissing you.”

And then you kissed him again.

SCOTT MCCALL

“This is just relationship…ist,” you said angrily as you and Scott sat in the library working on an assignment together. Scott raised an eyebrow, half listening as he was actually working while you were flicking through a free Beacon Hills magazine that you could always find lying around the town in random places.

“I have no idea what you’re going on about.”

You put the magazine down in front of him so he had to actually look away from what he was doing, pointing to the ad on the page.

“Couples get a 50% discount at the Canary. Couples are the ones that can actually afford to be there, single people should be the ones getting the discount.”

Scott pushed the magazine back towards you, amused by your reaction.

“What’s so good about the restaurant, anyway?” he asked and you looked at him in disbelief.

“How – how could you ask that? The food is the best food I’ve ever eaten. It makes you want to cry rainbows it’s so good.”

He snorted, “if you let me do my work I’ll be your fake boyfriend and go with you.”

“You know the way to my heart, McCall.”

You told maybe one person that you and Scott were going for the discounted food and the word got out like Chinese whispers. Soon, everyone ignored the fact you were just going to a restaurant together and were talking about how the two of you were now dating. Both of you, even with Scott’s werewolf senses, were oblivious to the rumours and were sitting at lunch together when Stiles was the first person to sit down with the both of you.

“I can’t believe you two,” he said, you having your mouth full with your lunch but raising an eyebrow at him, “you’re dating and you didn’t even tell me.”

You nearly choked on your food.

“Where’d you hear that?” Scott asked casually, not denying the claim.

“From fucking Lindsay of all people! She wanted to know how long it’d be going on – how come everyone knew before your best friend?!”

You looked at Scott and to your surprise, he shrugged.

“We were going to keep it a secret.”

That was when the rest of the group sat down at the table.

“So it’s true then?” Lydia asked, looking between you and Scott and he took your hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Yes, we’re dating,” and then he looked at you, “and we’re going to get a discount at the Canary. I want to cry rainbows.”

You knocked at Scott’s front door on Saturday night, ready for your fake date. The two of you had found the whole fake dating thing to be rather amusing, promising each other to keep it up until after the restaurant date and then saying that you would break up afterwards because you realised you were just ‘better off as friends’.

As Scott didn’t have a car you said you’d drop by his place after he was done practicing lacrosse with Stiles and Liam that day. Usually you didn’t mind just going on the back of his motorbike to places but tonight you actually got dressed up a little bit and you couldn’t risk having helmet hair or your makeup getting smudged.

“(Y/N)!” Melissa grinned as she opened the door, “come on in. Scott got home later than expected and he’s nearly ready. God, I’m so glad he finally got the guts to ask you out. He’s always gushing about his feelings for you and how he just doesn’t know what to do about it. He adores you, really.”

“Really, mum?” Scott said, knowing he was too late in defusing the embarrassing situation as he came walking quickly down the stairs.

“I’m your mother, it’s my job to embarrass you,” Melissa teased, “I guess that’s my cue to leave the two of you alone. Have fun – be safe!”

You only managed to yell a goodbye because Scott was pushing you out of the door, eager to get out of the situation.

“Don’t,” he warned, knowing you were ready to mention what had just happened, “you look amazing, by the way.”

“It’s not often I dress up like this so you better appreciate it. So should the discounted food, which I’m highly looking forward to.”

The Canary was filled with couples of all ages and you and Scott fit right in as plates of food were being placed in front of you.

“Are we going to be able to eat this all?” you asked.

“(Y/N), I’m a guy who also happens to be a werewolf. I could finish all of this on my own.”

He had a fair point.

The two of you were complimented several times by waiters for being such a cute couple, you both accepting these compliments graciously but with bright red faces. Ever since Melissa made the comment earlier about the two of you, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was joking because you’d always thought it was just you that liked him.

“What is it?” Scott asked, noticing your wondering expression. You gave a small shrug, feeling awfully shy which you weren’t usually like around him.

“Do you really gush about having feelings for me?”

This time, he was the shy one. Scott poked at his food, his cheeks reddening which they had been on and off throughout the night.

“I wouldn’t say I gushed about it,” he finally admitted, “but I do talk about liking you a bit.”

STILES STILINSKI

Saturday night had been a blur. The last memory you had was agreeing to do shots with Stiles and the next day you woke up safely tucked in bed (thanks to Scott) just before you launched yourself to the toilet to begin your day of being hungover. You felt like shit. And even on Monday morning as you walked into school you had a faint throbbing in your head and you were drinking more water when Stiles arrived.

“I’m never drinking alcohol again,” was the first thing you said to him, noticing he looked a similar way to you.

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, “but we say that all the time.”

You leaned against his side, waiting for the others to arrive when you got your first ‘congratulations’ from someone. Neither of you were sure what the person was congratulating you on but you thanked them anyway. Then it happened again when a girl from your English class walked past, lifting her hand to high five you.

“I heard about Saturday! It’s about time you two got together!” she said excitedly before walking into school.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on?” you asked, confused as to what you just witnessed as Stiles shook his head.

“I spent yesterday in the toilet. I didn’t even turn my phone on because the brightness made me sick.”

You waited a little longer and then Stiles suddenly perked up.

“Dude, there’s Theo. I saw him at the party on Saturday with that guy – I think he’s trying to get him to join his weird ass pack,” Stiles tried to tell you quietly, hoping that Theo was listening in.

“Or he could be into guys?”

“Well, you two were certainly a sight for sore eyes,” Kira suddenly said, appearing beside the two of you and making you jump. When she noticed the confused, she elaborated. “On Saturday, I mean. I didn’t know that getting the two of you together meant getting you drunk and having you confess your love to one another but man, it worked. That was gross.”

You and Stiles nearly had a heart attack. Quickly, you stepped away from one another, sharing a confused stare just as the bell went. Kira looked between the two of you but didn’t say anything, leaving you two alone as she entered the school on her own. Rather than say anything, you and Stiles went your separate ways.

During second period, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced at the message from Stiles which simply read to meet him at your spot. Your teacher was reluctant to let you leave but when you did, you nearly sprinted to the spot under the third floor corridor staircase where Stiles was waiting clearly agitated. It seems you weren’t the only one having people come up to you and congratulate you on officially dating Stiles and that many people saw your proclamation of love which neither of you can remember.

“Do you remember?” you began but Stiles suddenly pulled you to him, putting a hand over your mouth. You were confused, only to hear Theo’s voice echoing the corridor and you got the idea. You tried to listen in with him but Theo stopped talking and soon you heard footsteps coming towards where the two of you were hiding.

Stiles swiftly kissed you, causing you to freeze up. You weren’t sure whether to pull away or to kiss him back, only to understand what he was doing when Theo finally stopped in front of the two of you.

“Whoa, Theo!” Stiles pulled away, “can’t a couple just have a few moments of peace?”

Theo’s eyebrows furrowed, “so the rumours are true.”

“The rumours? Didn’t you see us at the party?” Stiles wrapped his arm around you and you smiled sheepishly. Your teacher was gonna be pissed at how late you were going to be.

“Must’ve left by then.”

“With your guy friend?” you blurted out and Stiles tried to stifle a laugh. Theo decided it was best to ignore you – which it was – and began to walk back to class that he was obviously avoiding as well.

You looked at Stiles with a questioning expression but he shook his head, “we’ll talk about this later.”

You never talked about it later but you had a silent agreement to continue the fake dating. Both of you watched one too many movies and had the idea that if you did the couple getting caught making out when you were actually searching into something you shouldn’t be then it was a win-win deal. You were just too nosy.

“We’re basically detectives,” Stiles said, the two of you hidden in a corner of a club watching a group of suspected chimeras. The two of you had been awfully touchy the past few days, both of you trying to convince yourselves it was all just a charade but it wasn’t. If you were able to convince your friends that you were dating, the people you were closest to, then it wasn’t really fake.

“Do you wanna go home and watch Star Wars?” you yelled over the music and Stiles leaned his forehead against yours.

“You are perfect for me.” He said, grabbing your and leading you out of the club. Your heart was racing and even when you got to the car, Stiles continued to hold your hand on the drive back to his place.


“For our detective work, right?” you said jokingly to him when he pulled into the driveway, Stiles walking quickly around to your side of the car to open the door for you.

Stiles leaned in and kissed you, “this has never been about the detective work.”

THEO RAEKEN

“Leave me alone,” you said for the third time to a guy that hadn’t stopped trying to chat you up during the last big lacrosse game. You looked around, trying to find someone you knew to go to for help but the crowds of people all looked the same.

“Why? You got a boyfriend?”

“Why should that matter? Leave me alone.”

You tried to remember how to throw a punch – you even considered making a scene by yelling loudly for the creep to get away from you. But your rescuer stepped out of the shadows, wrapping their arm around you and you nearly punched them in the face until you saw who it was.

“This guy bothering you, babe?” Theo Raeken said sternly and the guy put his hands in the air.

“Hey! No problem here, Raeken!”

“Really?” Theo stepped towards him, “because you better not be bothering my girlfriend.”

Despite how scared you were, your heart was filling with butterflies for all the wrong reasons. You had Theo in a few of your classes and god, you found him insanely attractive. He was always sweet towards you and now you were never going to be able to thank him enough.

“I’m not! I was just leaving, I swear!”

You’d never seen someone move so quickly.

When he disappeared into the crowd, Theo turned to you and gave you the most charming smile. You knew about his powers and was fully aware that he could probably smell your lust and nervousness.

“Don’t mention it,” he winked before disappearing as well and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot.

The next week you were sitting in the library on your own when Theo sat down beside you again, putting his arm around you. Your heart got caught in your throat as you glanced up at him, Theo seeming very comfortable and casual with the situation.

“Didn’t you hear?” he said with an amused tone, “everyone thinks we’re actually dating. I want to make sure they continue to think that so those guys will leave you alone.”

“What guys?”

“Over there. They’ve been saying some disgusting things about you and either I beat the shit out of them or they just get too freaked out to do anything in the first place,” he paused, “you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

You ignored him, “so, what? You’re fake dating me now?”

“Do you mind? I think it’d be fun.”

Theo took your answer as a yes when you blushed and look hastily away.

The next few weeks went past in a blur. It all started out as a bit of fun and eventually you were comfortable enough with Theo to get a bit into it as well. He never did anything beyond holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you but soon you were beginning to realise you wanted more – and so did Theo. He tried to convince himself that he was just doing this as a nice gesture because he’d thought you were vulnerable but he came to realise that you were stronger than even he was. You impressed him and Theo found himself lying in bed at night wishing you were there and he got excited whenever he knew you were nearby.

It was another big lacrosse game and Theo was finishing up some personal business when he saw a guy attempting to take the seat that Theo had originally be sitting in and chat you up. He clenched his teeth, storming towards you and his heart jumped when you made eye contact and you smiled at him.

“Hey babe,” Theo said, leaning down to where you were sitting, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard on the lips. You froze up but kissed him back, the guy that had been attempting to hit on you moving far away as possible.

“Get a room!” someone yelled and Theo moved away, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

Keep reading

The Tea is Decaf

[ao3]

3.7k words
Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen
Based on this text post

Castiel just barely slips out the door into the hallway and turns the knob as he closes it so the latch doesn’t make a sound. The light is always on in the hallway, and Dean always wakes up if too much of it pours into his room, so Castiel has mastered the art of slipping through the smallest space possible.

He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s in the hallway.

A small voice to his right lets out an amused laugh. He turns to see a particularly tiny woman wearing a very large plaid shirt and nothing else. Well, he supposes she could be wearing shorts under the shirt. It really is very big on her.

“You must be Castiel,” she says rather loudly, mispronouncing his name just slightly.

He walks over to her with a finger to his lips.

She puts her hand over her mouth in embarrassment before signing, I’m deaf.

Castiel mouths an “oh” before dropping his head and laughing. He then pops his head back up fast and mouths, “Are you Eileen?”

She nods eagerly and signs, You’ve heard about me?

Sam has mentioned you a few times, he signs back. He says you’re a very good hunter.

Her face lights up. You’re damn right I am. Still, that’s very sweet of him.

So, are you two…? Castiel looks back toward Sam’s room and then down at Eileen’s shirt.

Eileen’s eyes widen in embarrassment. He’s asleep. I was just going to the bathroom.

I was heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Would you like some?

Is there caffeine in it?

Not at 4 in the morning.

Eileen smiles and gives him a thumbs up before moving past him toward the bathroom. Castiel watches her go for a second before it hits him.

He looks down at his plain black t-shirt and too-small boxer briefs and wonders if Eileen could tell that these clothes aren’t his. And that he came out of Dean’s room instead of one of the countless other extra bedrooms in the bunker.

By the time Eileen pads into the kitchen, Castiel has two mugs ready with decaf teabags in them and he’s standing at the stove staring at the pot so he can pull it off the burner before it whistles.

It’s only a minute longer before Cas pours the water into the mugs and takes a seat across from Eileen at the kitchen table.

You’re an angel, aren’t you? Eileen asks as her tea steeps.

Castiel nods as he takes a drink.

Does that mean you don’t sleep?

Sometimes I do. I didn’t feel like it tonight.

Is Dean good in bed?

Keep reading

Writing is Hard, pt 9: Sexting

Summary: You send Dean some dirty pictures.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warning: Smut, taking pictures during sex

Word Count: 2600ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO


You hold up the phone, then almost instantly put it down.

This is stupid.

No. This isn’t stupid. This will be hot. Just do it.

Keep reading

I was inspired by @lazulisong‘s utter brilliance.

The moment Takeshi learned of Yuuri’s ginormous crush on Victor Nikiforov, he lifted Yuuri’s sweatshirt, took a big handful of belly, and shouted loud enough to wake Yuuri’s dead grandmother, “Keep dreaming, round boy! Victor would never want a tubbo like you!”

Oh, but if only Takeshi knew that Victor Nikiforov not only wants a tubbo like Yuuri but that he cried when Yuuri announced that it was time to drop the weight in preparation for the new season. Cried actual tears. The kind of tears usually reserved for deaths in the family or losing everything in a fire. The kind he shed when he thought Yuuri was breaking up with him. Bitter, heart-wrenching tears that leave him red-faced and heaving, then stumbling around hours later, wrung completely dry.

To be fair, Victor cries like that about literally everything—Yuuri landing a quad, surprise candlelight dinners, children in oversized parkas, murals that feature the color cerulean, dogs in movies (not just when they die, but when they’re there at all), the fourth ringtone on his new phone, daffodils, the word ‘sorbet’, and aerosol deodorant—but what Takeshi doesn’t know won’t prove him right, so.

“Maybe you can postpone it another week,” Victor mumbles into the kitchen table, where he fell into a chair and just sort of… deflated everywhere. He’s lying on top of the newspaper. Yuuri really wants to read it.

“You told Yurio he should’ve started training two weeks ago.”

Victor gives a despondent shrug. “He should’ve. Instead he’s been spending all his time Skyping with that degenerate.”

“You love Otabek. You hugged him and said you were proud to welcome him to the family, then you dumped a bag of condoms in his lap and cried because—and I quote—you were trusting him to take care of your most precious child.” And then a mortified, blushing Yurio slammed the airport shuttle door on Victor’s fingers.

Victor’s bandaged hand lifts and cuts through the air as though it were a tiny boat sailing on a choppy sea. Yuuri isn’t entirely sure what it means, but whatever it is? It’s suitably dramatic. “Yurio’s different.”

“Except not really.” Across the table, Yuuri studies the part in his hair, which looks a little… wider than usual. And sadder. It looks like a frown. He wants to lean forward to touch it, but that would do nothing except set Victor off again, and at the moment there isn’t enough fluid in Victor’s body to sustain him as it is. Instead, he pushes his own glass of orange juice toward him. “Vitya, please, drink something and replenish, would you? I don’t want to even think about what the headlines would say tomorrow if I let you pass out while we’re running this evening.”

At that, Victor lifts his head. Yuuri could skate an entire program based on the sheer betrayal on Victor’s face. “We’re running already? But we can’t! Not yet! I'm—You’re not ready. Another week. I’m putting my foot down, as your coach.”

“You’re a terrible coach,” Yuuri says. “I mean that. I want that on record. I can’t believe I’ve put my career in your hands. Can I fire you?”

“I’m a good husband, though, so it all cancels out,” Victor points out, which, okay, fair point. And he proves it by sliding both of his hands across the table and making grabby motions with his fingers. Well, one hand does. The bandaged one looks like a mummified sock puppet. “Don’t leave meeeeee.”

“I’m not leav—” Yuuri pauses, then rolls his eyes so hard he’s almost positive that he sprains something. “Oh. You were talking to my—”

“Squishyyyyyy.”

It comes out on the back of a long, sinuous whine. At Yuuri’s feet, Makkachin stirs, and he places his foot gently on her back and rubs until she settles. “I’m not going to bust my ass twice as hard just so you can manhandle me whenever you want.”

Victor’s head thunks back onto the table between his outstretched arms. “But you’re so soft and squishy, and it’s my favorite, and soon you’re going to be all bony and hard.”

“You’ve never once complained about me being hard,” Yuuri deadpans, then hides his face in his hands, because honestly. Victor cackles dementedly. “Look, I know you like my… well. I appreciate it, but I really need to start training yesterday if we’re going for the gold.”

Victor throws himself off of the table and drapes himself backward over his chair with a groan that honestly deserves an award. “Fine! Fine. Nobody ever told me that so much of being married is making sacrifices.”

It would be so easy for Yuuri to just turn his head and stare at the framed cross-stitch on the microwave that reads Sacrifice is one of the purest and most selfless ways to love someone. Practice it daily. Instead, he nudges the glass of juice a little closer, because, well. Sacrifice.

“Buck up,” Yuuri says cheerfully. “I’ll be back to being squishy before you know it.”

With a grumble, Victor reaches for the glass.

And while no one could ever accuse Yuuri of being the type to hold a grudge, he can’t deny the small, dark part of him that wants to call up Takeshi right this second and crow, “Round Boy got his, you jerk!”

The Fourth Musketeer (Part 2)

Originally posted by fyeahriverdale

Part one here

Requests: I just read The Fourth Musketeer and I’m in love! Will you release the next part soon? I can’t wait ❤❤❤

Can u please do a part 2 of “the four musketeer” please?

I know requests are closed and so please don’t even rush with this request like honestly take however long you want to, but I actually need a 2nd part of ‘the fourth musketeer’ your writing is so amazing!

Pairing: Archie x Reader

Description: Veronica has become invested in (Y/N)’s story, and so she seeks out those who knew her.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,437

Tag list: @isis278 @lost-in-wonderland-x @spam-to-follow@thatspidernamedmeagan @isabellarose5150

A/N: I have been having so much fun writing this series, hope you guys enjoy this part!


“(Y/N)” was the only word that came out of Veronica’s mouth as she sat down at the lunch table. Jughead, Betty, and Kevin’s heads all snapped up.

“How do you know about (Y/N)?” Kevin questioned.  Veronica shrugged.

“Archie was kind of having a meltdown at Jughead’s party,” she answered.  Betty and Jughead shared a concerned look.

“God, what happened?” Betty asked.

“He was screaming her name when I came up,” Veronica explained.  "He babbled on about how much he loved her and that he should’ve told her and that he kissed her.“

“Wait, he kissed her?” Kevin interrupted, his eyes doubling in size.  He glanced over at Jughead and Betty who appeared to be just as shocked as he was.

“You didn’t know?” Veronica’s eyes widened.

“No,” Jughead muttered, shaking his head.  "He never told us.“

“We always knew they had a thing for each other,” Kevin elaborated.  "But we never knew that something actually happened between them.“

"When did she move?”

“Two years ago,” Jughead answered.  "The summer before eighth grade.“

"There was this dance,” Betty reminisced, “in the fall of our eighth grade year.”

“Archie was gonna ask (Y/N),” Jughead frowned.  "He was preparing himself ever since he first heard about the dance.“

"And he never got the chance,” Kevin sighed.

“Do you know why she moved?” Veronica inquired.  The rest of her table shrugged.

“Probably her dad,” Betty replied.  "He was a really intense lawyer, and he got relocated to some big city firm.“

”(Y/N) was gonna try and stay with the Andrews,“ said Jughead.  "They were more than willing to take her in, too. But-”

“But, of course, her parents wanted her to go with them,” Veronica finished.  Jughead grimly nodded.  "So two whole years, and Archie still isn’t over this girl?“

"Well the thing is,” Betty grimaced, “he never coped well with her leaving.  After (Y/N) left he was… strange.  He practically denied her existence.”

“Seriously?”

"Yeah,” Kevin chimed in.  "He never talked about her or anything.  It was pretty frightening, actually.  It seemed like he had completely forgotten about her.“

"And if you’re wondering why Archie can’t get over her,” Jughead answered Veronica’s unasked question, “it’s because he was always in love with her.”

“Yeah, he told me that,” she mumbled.

“I don’t think you understand though,” he said.  "They were both so in love.  They were always there for each other, caring for each other.  When Archie’s parents were fighting, (Y/N) was there; whenever (Y/N)’s dog died, Archie was there.  You couldn’t find one without the other.  Betty and I were also good friends with them, but those two?  They were inseparable.“


Maybe it was Veronica’s fascination with dramatic love stories; maybe it was her desire for an explanation as to why Archie didn’t return her feelings for him.  Either way, she found herself searching for more information about (Y/N).  That was how she ended up at the Andrews household.  Archie wasn’t home.

”(Y/N)?“ Fred Andrews repeated, holding a beer as he sat across from Veronica.  "I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

“I, on the contrary, have been hearing her name quite a lot lately,” Veronica shrugged, sipping on a glass of water.  "So what happened between her and Archie?“

"Oh, I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Mr. Andrews sighed.  "It’s Archie’s tale to tell.“

"He already told me about her,” Veronica quickly explained.  "But only the happy parts.  Only the parts he wants to remember.“  Mr. Andrews exhaled and took another swig of beer.  He stared at Veronica for a moment in silence.

"Why do you want to know?” he finally asked.

“I like hearing stories,” she shrugged. “This sounds like a good book.”  Fred Andrews laughed.

“If this was a book,” he responded, “my son would’ve had a happy ending with that girl.”

“Maybe he will,” Veronica offered.  "I don’t think the story’s over yet.“  Fred’s laughter shrunk into a smile.  He cleared his throat.

"If there’s one thing you should know about (Y/N),” he started, “it’s that she is the purest soul you will ever meet.  She was kind and gentle, and she was exactly what Archie needed.”  Veronica quietly nodded, intrigued.  "I knew both her father and mother quite well.  So, of course, when our children were born around the same time, we knew we wanted them to be best friends.  A couple years later, we realized we wanted them to get married.“  Fred Andrews and Veronica both laughed.  "Sometimes in the movies you see the boy and girl resisting each other because when you’re little, it’s gross to talk to someone who’s the opposite gender.  That was never the case with Archie and (Y/N).  They were both sweet on each other.”

“That’s so cute,” Veronica cooed.

“It was,” Mr. Andrews sighed.  "I remember this one day; I think Archie was eleven at the time.  He and (Y/N) were at the park all day, as they usually were.  That night, he came running home and swung the door open.  His mouth was going at a mile per minute.  When I finally got him to slow down, he told me that he was in love with (Y/N).  He had the biggest grin on his face.“

"The day he kissed her?” Veronica clarified.  Mr. Andrews chuckled.

“Yeah.  God, it made me so happy.  I knew that he sometimes overheard his mom and I fighting, and I was worried that it would somehow affect his relationships.  That kind of stuff damages a kid, you know?  But he had stars in his eyes as he talked about (Y/N), and I don’t think I’ve seen him that happy since then.”

“I heard you offered to take her in,” Veronica changed the subject, “when she was going to move.”  Fred Andrews stiffly nodded.

“Archie’s mom and I fought a lot.  But (Y/N)’s parents?  That poor kid.  She slept over here so many times because the screaming was keeping her awake.  And the saddest part was she never cried or appeared to be sad.  She would just come in here, clutching Archie’s hand, looking up at me with big sad eyes and politely asked me to stay.  Of course, I never refused.”  Veronica frowned.  "When I heard she was moving, I was concerned about how crushed Archie was, sure, but I couldn’t bear to let (Y/N) go off on her own with her parents.  At least when she was in Riverdale, I knew she had a safe place here.  Now, I don’t know if she has one.“  He took a long swig of beer before continuing. ”(Y/N) was like a daughter to me.  Archie isn’t the only one who loved her.“

"Sounds like a special girl,” Veronica commented.  Fred nodded.

“She was.”


“Have you ever considered writing a book about this?”  Veronica sat across from Jughead in Pop’s.  He lightly glared at her, lowering his laptop lid.

“Write about what?” he snapped.  She had interrupted his writing when he was in the zone.

“(Y/N),” she answered.  Jughead shot a glance at Betty.

“You know before Jason Blossom was shot, (Y/N) and Archie were the most interesting things in Riverdale.”

“Wasn’t there a two-year gap between (Y/N) leaving and Jason getting shot?” Veronica inquired.

“Isn’t it interesting that someone so in love could just pretend that the person they loved never existed?” Betty countered on Jughead’s behalf.

“Touché,” Veronica muttered.

“Anyways, to answer your question, of course I’ve considered it,” Jughead said.  "In fact, I already wrote a whole novel.“

"Seriously?” Betty and Veronica exclaimed simultaneously.  Jughead nodded nonchalantly.

“Of course.  But I do think something is missing,” he responded.  Veronica furrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I kept it non-fiction,” he elaborated.  "I didn’t add anything that didn’t happen.  Although, I guess now I’ll have to put in the kiss.  Anyways, I don’t have a plot twist.“

”(Y/N) moving isn’t plot twist enough for you?“ Betty asked a question this time.

"That’s the climax,” he explained.  "Everything that happened after that was the falling action.  I have no plot twist and no resolution.“  All three sitting at the table furrowed their eyebrows.  A faint jingle alerted the diner that there was a new customer.  Betty casually glanced up and then did a double take at what she saw.  She gripped Jughead’s arm.

"Is that plot twist enough for you?” she whispered, gesturing towards the entrance.  Jughead and Veronica’s gaze both snapped towards the front, their focus attaching to the figure who just walked in.

“No way,” Jughead breathed.

“Is that…” Veronica trailed off, unable to form a sentence.  Jughead and Betty both nodded, confirming her suspicions.

“(Y/N).”

Part three here     Part four here     Part five here

bakery au (oldie but a goodie)

Part 1

“He hates me,” Bitty moaned, flopping on his couch. Holster was raiding his kitchen, listening to his rant about Jack Zimmermann.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong! Maybe it was because I told him that he played a hard game last night the first time he came into the bakery? All he does is glare at me and say stuff like ‘Eric, the coffee is too sweet,’ or ‘Eric, you need more protein.’”

“Brah, maybe Zimmermann just has a total resting bitch face,” said Holster as he pulled out a leftover pie from Bitty’s fridge. “Guy seems fucking intense. At least he’s good for business.”

“He keeps on glaring at me! And he comes in, like, three times a week. Orders a coffee and just drinks it in his corner, ignores my attempts at conversation even though, mind you, he has already said some pretty rude stuff!”

“The guy’s a celebrity, he probably has his head so far in his ass and doesn’t care about shit, and also just wants some privacy. Bits, you haven’t been taking pictures of him and posting it on twitter have you?” Holster asked, alarmed.

Bitty gasped, “Adam Birkholtz! I would never!”

“Then just treat him like an antisocial customer, he can’t be the only one going to the bakery who doesn’t want conversation and just wants service and food,” Holster said, dropping down next to Bitty on the couch with two tins of pie.

“I know,” Bitty sighs. “He’s just…so handsome. And he was so nice to Nursey when that fool tripped. And he tips generously. And he’s just so gorgeous, even when he’s glaring at me and speaking in grunts whenever I ask him how his day has been. I just want him to like me!”

Holster navigated the TV to a rerun of Golden Girls and handed Bitty one of the pie tins. “I think that’s your problem. You’re an amazing person, Bits, but maybe you can be a bit too friendly for resting bitch face robozoid Zimmermann. Maybe stop asking him about his day and just let him chill.”

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Identity Theft

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Request: “63 and 67 separately jughead x reader please if its too much then could you just do 67 thank you”

Prompt:
#67 “Are you getting jealous?” - “You’re changing your outfit, now!”

Warnings: I think there’s more than one curse in this one? Also allusions to sex but no actual sex because I’m innocent

A/N: I didn’t want this to get sexual like it did but OOPS I guess I’m just really thirsty lately

Tag list: @1amluke, @betty-coopers-number-one-stan, @keepcalmandflywithtoothless, @lostinpercyseyes, @captainsuperfangirl

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