It was 2010, around the time of ‘The Social Network’. I was being invited to all these LA parties, and three of my mates from home [Epsom, Surrey] came out for one. Everyone there was famous, and we didn’t know what to do, so we ended up creating a little square in the middle of the room, looking in at each other. We couldn’t think of anything to say, so my mate George says, ‘Let’s all say “rhubarb”.’ So we’re all just standing there, these four tall, awkward English boys, muttering ‘rhubarb’. And then at one point, oh my God… At one point, my mate James accidentally kissed Taylor Swift on the ear! We finally started talking to people, and as we were leaving Taylor Swift says, ‘Bye guys,’ and James leans in, but he doesn’t know if it’s a hug or what, so for some reason he just… kisses her on the ear. Then at the end of the night – and I won’t explain how this happened – all four of us ended up dancing in pyjamas at Quincy Jones’s house. - Andrew Garfield by Art Streiber for ShortList (January 2017)
10, 12, 18, 24! please!!! also congrats on 500, you deserve it <3
Thanks @itstenafterfour here are the OTP questions. Hope you enjoy. Hope to get through some more requests tomorrow night.
10. Which one sings and which one dances?
He swings around the lounge the sound of her voice filling their small apartment. The small child in his arms laughs and squeals at his exaggerated movements. He dips her low before lifting her up in the air, another round of her laughter filling the room. Betty continues to sing, despite almost falling into a fit of giggles herself at the sight of the two of them in their pyjamas dancing along to her singing and the background music of the radio. He dips her head and she is giggling hysterically. He mouths the words, not wanting to ruin the song with his own tone deaf voice. She watches on from the kitchen her heart melting at the sight of her husband Jughead Jones dancing with their 2 year old daughter around the lounge while she sings along with the radio. Her daughter comes running over to her, before dragging her over to him insisting that it is her turn now, and he takes her hand in his own before pulling her close as they waltz in the small space, the only real dancing he knows, ingrained in him from their wedding as Evie continues to dance on her own around them, twirling and bowing with her teddy bear.
12. Which one cries more during movies?
“Please don’t tell anyone.” He said sniffing, as she handed him a box of tissues.
“I think it’s sweet, your so sensitive.” She said reassuring, wrapping her arms around him.
“It’s stupid I know it’s stupid but it’s just.” The images on the screen continued to play, highlighting his face, eyes swollen and puffy, cheeks wet with tears.
“I know.” She ran her hand up his cheek, brushing away his tears.
“I mean.” He breathed deeply, thinking about the scene was about to set him off again. “It’s his dad, and he thinks it’s his fault, but it’s not.” He gave another loud sniff.
“The Lion King is going on the list isn’t it.” She got out her notebook and pen, flipping to a page and writing the title of the film they were watching.
“I mean what kind of person thinks this is okay for kids.” He choked out. She smiled at him and wrapped her arms tightly around him snuggling into his chest. They had started the ‘never again’ list after watching My Girl, that one had had him sobbing, after he had tried to hold back his tears, grasping her hand so tightly. She had warned him about this one and he had insisted that he could handle it, it was a kids cartoon after all. She put the notebook away again and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
“Don’t worry Juggie. Your secret is safe with me.”
18. Which one rides the shopping cart out of the store?
“You have seriously never done it?” He asked her, his voice disbelieving.
“Do I look like someone who would do something like that?” She responded as if he had forgotten who her mother was. No way would she have let Betty Cooper ride the shopping cart out of the store.
“I suppose not.”
“But I am totally up for it.” She said her smile beaming. “I mean we are leaving tomorrow for college. Why not?” Her smile was contagious and he nodded his head eagerly. So they stood at the register, the shopping for their road trip loaded into the trolley. Giving each other conspiratorial looks, before giggling to themselves like a pair of mischievous children. The shopping attendant paid them no attention and Betty handed them her card paying for their supplies. They were now at the exit and she felt a wave of nervousness hit her. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head, it was not becoming of a lady, she could fall, she pushed that voice away as she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Ready?” He asked and she nodded her head. She took a deep breath as she pulled back the shopping trolley and then pushed it forward sharply placing a foot on each side of the trolley just above the back wheels, holding on as the momentum pushed her and the trolley forward. She let out a loud laugh as she and the trolley flew towards the exit, Jughead was laughing too trailing behind her.
24. Who is the most affectionate?
He needs to hold her, all the time, needs to show her how much she means to him. He doesn’t care about the looks from the others as her wraps his arm protectively around her. How he moves to nuzzle into her neck at their booth at Pop’s breathing in a scent that is deliciously Betty. After the arguments, the words he has thrown at her he needs to show her that he is sorry, that he needs her. After Homecoming he had been a mess, he had said words to her that he couldn’t take back no matter how much he wanted to. She had stuck there taking each one, each leaving their mark on her, each word making her press just a little bit harder into her palms, bite her lip a little bit deeper, the tears in her eyes rising to the surface. And all she said was sorry, all she wanted was his forgiveness. The stab of guilt he had felt when Archie and Veronica told him that she had nothing to do with their plan, that she had vowed never to speak to either of them ever again, made him feel sick. He would spend his life making things up to her with gentle kisses, hands clasped under tables, arms wrapped around her body as she slumbered. He would show her everyday, how sorry he was.
Dancing at 2am in pyjamas to soft music is shallura culture
Yes! Just, YES. Let them be silly, let them be dorks, let them be young and in love and have fun. Let them have their quiet, cute, happy moments when they can just hold each other close and relish in being with one another.
OTP Questions Part 3 - 500 Followers - All Requested Fills.
This post is collecting all the filled prompts requested from the important OTP questions, posted with my announcements and thanks for reaching 500 followers.
There is a keep reading break after the prompt “Which one is super ticklish” for mobile readers.
Let me know if you enjoy reading these fills as I am thinking about doing something similar for over the hiatus period, and just want to make sure people are still enjoying these.
Now to get back to my one shots.
Who talks smack while playing video games?
“Betts, we need to talk.” He said as he entered her bedroom, his
voice had that soft intonation to it a tell tale sign that he was going
to tell her something she likely did not want to hear.“Nothing good ever
came from that sentence.” She said putting away her book onto her night
stand and looking at him expectedly. He took a deep breath before
sitting on the edge of her bed. “It’s about what you said the other
night.” She looked at him confused, her eyes searching his for what he
might be talking about. Her mind racing through the things that she had
told him last night, she had said she loved him but they had told each
other that so many times that she had lost count. “I don’t know what
“It’s the trash talk Betty, it’s getting pretty personal, Archie said he doesn’t want to play with us anymore.”
“Why because I called him a baby for missing the easiest shot in existence?”
think it may have been the string of expletives after that that he took
exception to.” She rolled her eyes in response. “And what you then said
about his music.”
“Fine we won’t play with him any more.” She
shrugged moving to pick up her book again. “Don’t need people on our
team anyway who can’t handle a little criticism.” She huffed. He loved
that she was passionate in everything that she did. That there was no
room for compromise when it came to performance. But when she was
playing she was brutal, he was sure he could see the beginnings of tears
in Archie’s eyes after she had stripped him down in front of their
other team mates. He had to fight back the laughter of her sitting in
her perfectly pink and floral bedroom, in most likely one of her prim
and proper sweaters, ponytail swinging from side to side as she shouted
down the mic at Archie who didn’t know what had hit him.
Who would rock the boat while the other one screams at them to stop?
It was supposed to be a romantic row boat ride along sweet water river. Not exactly the most romantic spot since Jason’s body was found there but there was only one river in Riverdale and Betty had said she wanted to be wooed. So he had taken it upon himself with some helpful suggestions from Ronnie to organise the perfect first date. In amongst their sleuthing and investigating they had never actually had one and he was pretty sure that the trip to Jason’s abandoned car didn’t count. It had been about a week since his dad had been cleared and he had begged, yes begged, for Betty’s forgiveness. She had told him that she did not blame him and they swore to each other that there would be no more secrets between them, again. She was dressed in a yellow sun dress and was the very vision of everything that was good and pure in Riverdale. He couldn’t help but smile at her as he lifted the picnic basket Ronnie had packed and lent to him for the day. She had also convinced Reggie Mantle to lend them his boat, or rather his father’s small row boat. Cheryl had offered but Ronnie had politely declined given the history of that particular boat. He packed everything into the boat and she took her position at the stern of the boat relaxing and soaking up the sun. The way the rays were hitting her hair made him, want to call of the boat ride and just spend the day wrapped in each other arms by the bank, but he was on a mission. Once they were out in the middle of the water he stopped rowing and she smiled at him looking at him over her sunglasses.
“Do you know what I have always wanted to do?” She broke the silence and he looked at her, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She gave him a mischievous grin before she put a hand on either side of the boat and swayed her body making the boat rock in the water. Jughead caught off guard at the movement grasped the side of the boat for dear life. She let out a laugh, feeling a sense of freedom wash over her as she gave it another rock, it was childish she knew it but this was something that Ms Perfect woudn’t do she would just sit there demure and peaceful. Jughead on the other hand felt nothing of the sort, he felt sick and was pretty sure if she didn’t stop soon he was going to be seeing his lunch make an unwelcome reappearance.
“Betts, please, stop.” He shouted. She froze mid action about to make another move, staring at him and the unusual pale colour he had turned. He took a couple of deep breaths and she moved to sit with him moving the boat again, and he made an unpleasant sound. She apologised for rocking the boat and took the oars rowing them gently to shore, while Jughead laid back, with his eyes closed willing the uneasy feeling to go away. As she helped him out of the boat and onto the shore, he swore this was the last time her would take romantic advice from Veronica Lodge. Which one hogs the blankets at night? or Big spoon/Little spoon?
He watched her wrapped up in her little private cocoon which consisted of their blanket and doona. He tried to gently tug the blanket back towards himself seeking some warmth and protection from the cold night. She huffed and he could swear she just gripped tighter. Sighing he went to the dresser and pulled out the back up blanket. He draped it over his body and started to drift off into sleep. Feeling a gentle tugging on his blanket he opened his eyes to see that Betty was trying to steal his new blanket. He moved his body to be able to enter her private cocoon, pressing himself against her back, his arms wrapping around her torso and nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing in her scent. She sighed happily in her sleep and seemed content now with the new source of heat, warming her body.
Which one is super ticklish?
She sets upon him immediately and he begs her to stop. She is relentless, ever since she found out his weakness she has been exploiting it. They had been in her room, taking advantage of a day off school with no Alice Cooper, no interruptions. Her hands were exploring her body as she lightly moved her finger tips under his shirt, gently brushing against the cool skin of his stomach when he let out a laugh, she stopped her movements and he seemed to be able to regain his composure urging her to continue. She moved her fingertips across up higher to his rib cage and he stifled another laugh with his hand. He apologised, all of a sudden feeling bashful. She instead moved her hand away from his chest and gripped the back of his neck pulling him in for another kiss, pressing her body against his, eliminating any further laughter from their encounter.
Oh boy … A music tag. This is gonna be so hard for me because I love so many things. But i’ll tag the songs I haven’t been able to stop playing/re-discovered in the last month! Thanks @missolitude for the tag!
Rules: if you can, list the Top Ten songs you are listening to lately, and tag ten mutuals to do the same
Pssst, imagine Derek Hale singing Taylor Swift's "Never Grow Up" to his newborn baby girl the first time she falls asleep in his arms :3
OH NO YOU DO NOT.
YOU DID NOT JUST FEED ME THAT MENTAL IMAGE, ANON. YOU DIDN’T.
Okay, but listen. Do you know what pains me about this? Stiles overhearing this. Maybe Derek is just singing it, a song with a gentle rhythm about wanting his little girl to never grow up because he wants this moment to last forever. He’s not exactly thinking about the lyrics in detail. But that song has meaning to Stiles, okay? Especially this verse:
But don’t make her drop you off around the block Remember that she’s getting older too And don’t lose the way that you dance around in your p.j.s getting ready for school.
Do you know how much this fucks Stiles up, remembering his own mom? How, just before she went into hospital, before Stiles realised what was really going on with her, he started making her wait in the car outside the movie theatre instead of coming in with him because he was getting that little bit older and wanted to be cool?
Do you know how much he would give for just one more morning of her waking him up, singing some of stupid song, and them both dancing around in their pyjamas as she got him ready for school? How he would give anything to have had his mom be the one at the parent teacher meeting in junior year, listening as Finstock told her about his paper on the male circumcision because she would have found it hilarious? Because that was his mom. She got him when no-one else did.
And maybe he breaks down crying because he’ll never be able to get those moments back. There is so much he should have done, he should have been a better son, been easier to take care of. His mom deserved better than him and that kills him, that maybe if it wasn’t for him she would still be alive. And he wants to go back so badly and not be a disappointment. Or just to say he’s sorry.
And, of course, Derek notices, puts their daughter down in her crib and makes his way over to Stiles, pulling him into a hug and wrapping him up in his arms because he knows what Stiles is thinking then and he wishes he had never sun that silly song. Derek is the only one Stiles has ever confided in about his mom, about how he misses her, and Derek wishes he could do something. He wishes he could bring Claudia back for a few minutes to tell Stiles how proud she is of him, because Derek knows she would be, and he tells Stiles that. He always tells Stiles that. And somewhere inside he knows Stiles believes him, or at least tries to, but it’s not enough and all Derek can do is hold him close and tell him he loves him. And maybe one day Derek is going to have to go the the Sheriff, tell him he needs to make Stiles understand what happened wasn’t his fault. Because he knows Stiles, even after all these years, still thinks his dad blames him. He sees it every single time Stiles looks at the Sheriff, like he’s waiting for something, for approval that isn’t coming. And that kills Derek, but Stiles made him promise never to say anything and Derek knows he has to respect that.
AND REALLY. WHY, ANON. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN MY DAY IN THIS WAY?
The silence ate away at his confidence, or lack there of. How everyone’s eyes looked up at him; so full of sympathy and understanding. It wasn’t something Yoongi was inclined to admit, but everyone in that room knew how he felt, even if there was a shred of his conscience telling him that ‘nobody could feel as broken as you do right now’. Many had their heads lowered and his heart only sank further in his chest, wishing that he could just set down the papers and return to his seat and weep with the rest of them. Or better yet, he wished that this was just some twisted nightmare and that he could wake up in the morning with his curtains closed, warm in his covers with the sound of drowsy mumbling beside him.
Fixing his suit sleeves, he brought his gaze to the papers in front of them, his shoulders shaking as the words in ink began to blur, he felt his throat closing inward and how when he tried to find some comfort or some help from anyone else; they all had their heads bowed ready to listen. Min Yoongi may not have been known for his skills in comforting others, but he had always been able to comfort you and now; he just had to use what he knew to comfort everyone else. Clearing his throat, he felt his chest tighten, but found his courage to speak.
“—I checked the day that you were born. You were born on a Sunday.They say that people born on Sunday’s are loving, caring, gentle people. And they’re right. I already loved Sunday’s as it was, but you were born on a Sunday; and only gave me a reason to love it more. I love how it’s known as the laziest day of the week, a day for rest, it was the day that neither of us really had to work, the day we first fell asleep on the couch together; because we stayed up all day Saturday. It was the day we first went to the movies together because all the shops had already closed. I loved Sundays, but you– you never liked them, not really. It was all for rest but you, you’re so restless, but you gave me a reason to love the day you didn’t like so much.”
There’s a breath of laughter as he reads his pages, shaking his head as fond thoughts of you enter his mind, his smile breaking across his face; if only for a moment before he settles himself again; stopping hitching breath and aggravated, sorrowful feelings interrupting his words.
“I met you on a Monday, and I thought maybe then; Monday had become my favourite day of the week. Sure, I didn’t get a lie in, I had to wave goodbye to the weekends. But without Monday; I wouldn’t have met you. With out that Monday; I wouldn’t have watched you stumble onto the plane and have to take the last seat, which luckily; was beside me. With out Monday, I wouldn’t have laughed for hours while people groaned about how our plane was late arriving, I wouldn’t have spilled my drink on your shirt and wouldn’t have had to give you a new one, I wouldn’t have slept on that plane with out you either, and I hadn’t slept in days. If it wasn’t for that Monday; you wouldn’t have had anyones hand to hold when we were landing because you were scared. I met you on a Monday; and it was the best Monday of my life.”
The tension in his chest seemed to ease, but only for a moment as he looked up, remembering where he was. His teeth clenched together, his gentle smile somewhat shaken off his features as he remembered what he had written next and what was soon to come.
“Tuesday was the first day you agreed to go out with me, it was Tuesday when you sat across from me in the restaurant I picked, it was that Tuesday when I realised that how you could make me laugh on the plane wasn’t just a fluke, you were funny; it was the Tuesday I realised how kind you were, when I missed my mouth and you dabbed my shirt with your napkin, it was that Tuesday when I knew you were different. That you were someone you only dream of meeting once in a life time. It was on a Tuesday that I told you exactly that, and it was on a Tuesday that you told me; you felt the same.”
Feelings of emptiness started to surface; those fond times he was mentioning slowly but surely catching up on him. The recognition of the room he was in, the faces of people who were crying or reminiscing. Why would you be so cruel as to make him do this? Well, you didn’t. But he knew that you had wanted him to; it was only a coincidence you had talked about it a few months ago, but now; it was real, far too real and his eyes began to sting when he began to empathize with the rest of the room; and saw crying was the only normal thing to do, but he didn’t want to. Not while he read.
“We bought our apartment on a Wednesday afternoon. Actually, we fought about it for weeks before. Whether the bathroom was big enough; if I could go with out a bath and bath bombs until we could get the money to buy our own bath, if the bedroom was too big or if it was just right. But we gave in and agreed on the Wednesday. We painted the walls green, blue, red, white and back to blue, from Wednesday to Wednesday. We slept on the floor that first Wednesday straight to the third Wednesday because our bed got lost on delivery. But you didn’t mind, and neither did I. We spent exactly 164 Wednesdays living there; and sometimes I think that maybe Wednesday should be my favourite day of the week.”
Tears running down his cheeks cause him to pause as his voice cracks, giving an audible sniff to try and regain his composure. A few people look up and wonder why he has stopped. But quickly he wipes his face with his sleeves and gives a short cough. The rest of the room understood; and he knew now why they did. What he did not know is; his words, which filled him with both happiness and sorrow were doing the same for everyone else, but they were only words to them; but to both Yoongi and also to you; these words, these times you shared were cherish-able, unforgettable, and reviving.
“I knew on a Thursday. I knew that I loved you when I woke up and you weren’t there. I knew I loved you when I went to the terrace and looked both ways down the street, I knew that I loved you because the whole apartment smelt like you. Thursday, now, and for the rest of my life will be my favourite day of the week. It was the Thursday I fiddled with the remote control for an hour trying to take my mind off why I was worrying about you so much, it was that Thursday I realised that time spent with out you dragged, was pointless. And that Thursday when you walked through the door with ten bags of food and crappy rental DVDs was the best five seconds I can remember. I remember; you asked why I was so glad to see you. And I wish I could have just told you there and then; it was because I knew how much I loved you.”
Eyes scanning over the next paragraph caused him to smile. He remembered Friday the best, how beautiful you looked in your white dress. The way he was staring at his shoes for five minutes straight because of a spec only to bring his gaze up and let his composure falter when he seen you. How his heart jolted behind his suit because this was the big day you would share forever, this was the day he could put a ring on your finger and have you as his wife. But his smile faded again as he started to speak, because that day was behind you now.
“Friday was the day that you married me. The day my heart stopped when you walked up between the benches of the Church, the day that I never stopped smiling and the day that I felt like there was no such thing as ‘worry’ and the day I believed that there was no end. The only day you actually didn’t have to persuade me and beg me to dance with you; and probably should be my favourite day of the week. But any day with you is my favourite day and any day already spent with you has been my favourite day.”
Bringing gaze up, he looked straight up the Church aisle, with a false hope that he could relive his Friday memory, that you would come down the aisle in a white dress, with your arm linked with your father, smiling up at him while he fretted over his shoes, holding light blue roses between your hands while everyone watched, full of joy, happiness and glee. But; he was met with nothing when he stared down the aisle other than the tears brimming at the edge of his eyes again.
“Saturday is a different sort of day. It was an abundance of days, full of dancing in our pyjamas, holding hands in the park, dinners in the moonlight, sleeping on the floor to a movie in the background, climbing rocks at the beach in the summers, snowball fights in the winter, playfulness and care-free; a day that reminds me just of how we were and how you are. It may not be my favourite day like Thursday, but it’s a day that stole my heart; just like you did on the Monday. Saturday is your day.”
As his attention averts to the next paragraph he feels as though he has been shot in the stomach, his insides churn at the thought of what he is about to read. He remembers now why he is here. Why he didn’t want to read. And he looks up from the podium to the masses of people on the Church benches, he looks to the closed doors and lit candles. He looks for you in the crowds of people but is whipped back to the harsh reality when he sees your not there. Of course your not. As he stammers over the word, his lips break, and his breath falters as he begins to break; moving away from the mic as to not cry into it.
“But– now we’re back to Sunday, and now I don’t know how to feel about Sunday. I used to love Sunday’s because they were always with you; they were always lazy, they were the day you came into this world and the day you didn’t like so much. It’s hard to see Sunday’s like that anymore. Because it was on a Sunday that I lost you— it was on a Sunday that we all lost you. You died on a Sunday. While I held your hand, and it was that Sunday morning that my heart broke in two, and you took half of it with you. I loved Sundays, but now; I don’t want to see another Sunday without you in it.”
Yoongi’s crying doesn’t cease as he puts his hands over his eyes and tries to hold back the bating and heavy breath in his lungs. Every time he brought his attention back to the page he forced himself to look away, he wasn’t ready; because when he finished, you were gone, but looking to Namjoon who offered a shaky nod to assure his hyung, Yoongi shut his eyes, picturing you and him dancing around shops, pulling faces and pretending to be mean to one another, running up streets in the dark, sleeping on the sofa, blocking the tv from each other so one of you would pay attention and these normal thoughts of you; eased him. You wouldn’t be gone, you were always going to be in his thoughts. Always.
“You gave me a reason to think of every day, you gave me a reason to remember every day of the week. I won’t see you on a Monday anymore, or a Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday. Not even on Saturday or Sunday, even if I would give anything to even hear you again. But– it’s alright; because every day of the week—-;
A/N - We live next door to each other and I can see you through the window while you’re dancing to your iPod in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and God you’re a dork - With Dick Grayson rewrite
Of course tonight was no different after the suspect fled the scene and the town. He called it into Bruce and left on his way back home as he needed to rest.
Frustration hit him like a continuous blow to the head. It lingered for seemingly hours and let up for a second only to return. He tried watching TV, he tried sleeping, he even tried working out, but nothing worked or eased off the tension.
He sighed as he picked up his final attempt and tapped on his iPod. The second the music started he was in his own world. Closing his eyes he started dancing and singing along to the music, if he had left them open he would have noticed you, his neighbour starting at him in shock as he wagged his finger and moved his feet while singing
You just walk in, I make you smile
It’s cool but
You don’t even know me
You take an inch, I run a mile
Can’t win you’re
Always right behind me
And we know that you could go and find some other
Take or leave it or just don’t even bother
Caught in a craze, it’s just a phase
Or will this be around forever
Don’t you know it’s going too fast (ooh, to fast)
Racing so heard you know it won’t last (ooh, won’t last)
Don’t you know why can’t you see
Slow it down, read the sign
So yiu know just where you’re going
You swore you were only getting a drink. But that drink took at least a good half an hour to drink as you watched your ridiculously hot neighbour shimmy and run his hands down his body. On top of that he was singing a megamix of The Spice Girls, ABBA, and eventually (your favourite) his recreation of Britney Spears toxic.
You giggled and watched with glee as he shimmied,shaked and even twerked to his songs. His hands ran through his hair and he spun around facing you, with his eyes open. As he caught your gaze with his, his mouth dropped open and he rushed to turn it off. In his rush he managed to drop the device and he left it on the ground before he nervously smiled waving at you.
Winking at him you finished your water and waved over at him. He waved back with a goofy smile and approached you as far as his building allowed him to.
“Enjoying the show?” He grinned stupidly “I -uh, forgot I left my curtains open.”
“Absolutely. If it’s any consolation, Britney is a universal treasure.” you grinned at him
“Yeah, exactly. I’m Dick, your neighbour.” he said
“Nice to meet you dork, I’m Y/N.”
“No no, Dick, as in Richard.” He said correcting you
“Oh no I know, I just think after that performance you’re a massive dork.” You reached around to your fridge and pulled off a post it and scribbled on it with a pen. Leaning out the window you passed him the note.
“Text me when you’re up for round two.” You winked before bidding him goodnight and returning to bed.
Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x reader
Summary: Steve finally gets his dance
Genre: Fluffy fluffy fluff
Warnings: None, other than extreme fluff
A/N: Thank you @marvelximagines for the prompt, you’re a lifesaver! Also (Y/N/N) means “your nickname”. If you don’t have one, make one up :)
I yawned, blinking tiredly at my alarm. Reaching out clumsily, I succeeded in knocking the clock off my bedside table and stopping the incessant beeping noise. I was about to go back to sleep, as was my usual response to my alarm going off, before remembering why I’d set it for midnight.
I rolled out of bed, landing with a thump on the floor. Pausing only to grab the gift bag from under my bed, I ran out into the corridor, slipping slightly in my fluffy socks on the polished floor.
“Steve!” I called, knocking on his door. Hearing a muffled reply from within the room, I took it as my cue to enter.
“(Y/N), it’s too early. Get out,” he complained, pulling the blankets over his head. I grinned, placing the bag down carefully and picking up a pillow, raising it above my head.
“But-” WHACK “-it’s-” WHACK “-your-” WHACK “-birthday-” WHACK “-and you-” WHACK “-need to-” WHACK “-open your-” WHACK “-presents!”
His eyes appeared from under the duvet. “What presents?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Your Christmas presents, obviously. What presents do you think?”
He sat up slowly, expecting to be hit again. To be fair, I hadn’t lowered the pillow yet.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, (Y/N/N),” he insisted. I shrugged.
“‘Course I did!” I handed him the bag, smiling. “Happy birthday, Steve.”
He reached into the bag, pulling out a small wrapped present. It was flat, and very light. He chuckled at the eagle print wrapping paper I’d used.
Ripping the paper carefully, he grinned at the CD in his hands.
““Best of the 40s and 50s”,” he read out. I watched him anxiously.
“I couldn’t think what to get you. If you don’t like it, I can-”
“I love it, (Y/N). Thank you,” he said sincerely. He held the CD to his chest, smiling. I raised my eyebrows, amused.
“Is it just the CD that gets a hug?” I joked. He chuckled.
“Of course not. C'mere, you.” He hugged me tightly, and I wrapped my arms around his back, resting my chin on his shoulder. Pulling away, he pressed a kiss to my cheek quickly.
“Glad you like it,” I muttered, blushing. He stood up, stretching, and crossed the room to his CD player.
“Steve, you’ll wake everyone up,” I laughed.
“Which one of us was running around the tower at midnight?” he questioned, grinning.
Pressing play, he held his hand out to me. “Dance with me?” he asked. I tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, staring at my feet.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I mumbled. He smiled slightly, crouching in front of me, lifting my chin with two fingers gently.
“Me neither,” he whispered. Leaning in slowly, he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes, smiling into the kiss. Pulling away, he rested his forehead against mine. Taking my hand in his, he pulled me to my feet.
I clasped my hands behind his neck, stroking the soft hairs on his neck gently. He held my waist carefully, smiling down at me as we shuffled around the floor.
We must have looked like idiots, dancing around in our pyjamas at midnight, but I couldn’t have been happier. Steve started singing quietly under his breath, his clear blue eyes locking with mine.
“Yes, you’re lovely…with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft…” He cupped my cheek gently, shifting closer to me. “…there is nothing for me but to love you, and the way you look tonight…”
Our lips met briefly, and I giggled quietly. He grinned sheepishly at me, and nuzzled my nose with his as the song kept playing.
Oh, there is nothing for me but to love you,
And the way you look tonight.
“Imagine baking for Sam and him throwing frosting all over you. Imagine then having heated sex in the kitchen covered in baking ingredients.”
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1,500
Warnings: swearing, fluff, smut and baking
You waved goodbye to Dean and closed the door of the bunker. He was off to stock up on ammo and spell ingredients so you knew he would be away for most of the day, meaning you had the chance for some quality alone time with your boyfriend Sam. You and Sam had been item for around a year now, having joined forces with the Winchesters on a hunt and moving into the bunker with them soon after. You and Sam two connected instantly and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was so sweet and so much fun to be around, not to mention being a drop-dead gorgeous giant! You smiled at the thought of having the bunker to yourselves for a day, but since it was still pretty early you decided you’d leave Sam in bed for a little longer and headed to the kitchen to do something you loved almost as much as you loved Sam…baking!
You didn’t often have the opportunity to bake living out of crappy motels as a hunter so you were so excited when you saw the bunker had a proper kitchen, meaning you baked for the boys pretty regularly, and they were always very grateful! You were still in you pyjamas, just some shorts and a baggy crop t-shirt, when you got to the kitchen and put the radio on full blast. You got to work making some pastry for a pie for dean, and mixing up some of Sam’s favourite caramel buttercream frosting. You had just put a cake in the oven and set the timer when your absolute favourite song came on the radio, and you couldn’t help but jump and dance around the kitchen singing at the top of your lungs.
You heard laughter and looked over to the door to see Sam leaning on the door frame, a huge smile lighting up his face. You skipped over to him and grabbed his hand, spinning him round and pulling him into your pyjama dance party. He put his hands on your hips and danced along with you, even managing to dip you at the end of the song. When the song had finished you both stood there in laughter before Sam pulled you into a long, slow kiss which filled your stomach with butterflies, even after being with him all this time.
“Good Morning Beautiful,” Sam said pulling away from your lips to admire how sexy you looked in your little pyjamas. “Something smells amazing in here.” He said wrapping his strong arms around your waist and planting delicate kisses on your neck. You sigh happily at the feel of his warm, wet lips on your skin, taking his hand and lead him over to the kitchen ledge.
“Look, I made your favourite.” You said winking and using your finger to scoop a bit of the caramel frosting out of the bowl. Before you had a chance to put it to your lips, Sam took a hold of your hand and slowly sucked the frosting off your finger, never breaking eye contact with you. You couldn’t ever think of a day when Sam hadn’t been sexy as fuck, but feeling his wet lips around your finger made your pulse race and you could feel a slight wetness in your panties. Sam slowly licked his lips before placing one hand firmly behind your head pulling you in for another kiss, while the other hand traced small, soft circles in the small of your back. His tongue roamed your mouth, filling it with the taste of caramel, which made you smile into his passionate kiss.
You decided two could play at that game, and as you pulled Sam’s t-shirt over his head, you drew a line of frosting down his incredible, chiselled abs, and began slowly kissing down his stomach, until you were on your knees, sucking and licking as you went, earning you some deep grunts from Sam which only turned you on more. When you got to the waistband of his sweatpants you could already see his sizeable erection bulging through the material, so you pulled them down to the floor along with his boxers and begin slowly licking his tip, causing Sam to moan your name loudly. Feeling a warmth growing between your legs, his moan spurred you on, taking his full shaft in your mouth and sucking, slowly at first but getting quicker as Sam’s moans got louder and louder, and sometimes tracing your tongue down the length of him. When he was getting close, he reached for the ledge of the kitchen counter to support himself but, being so distracted, his hand knocked a bag of powdered sugar off the ledge, and all over you.
You stood up, covered in the white powder only to see Sam laughing his ass off at you trying to shake some of the sugar out of your hair. “You think this is funny?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow, doing your best not to laugh at the situation yourself, but Sam was laughing too hysterically to even respond. “Well then you can be a mess too,” You laughed, grabbing a nearby bowl of cake mix and flicking spoonful’s of it at Sam’s bare chest. He ran over to you and wrestled the bowl out of your hands, still laughing hysterically, and once the bowl was back on the ledge he picked you up by the ass and carried you over the kitchen table and carefully placed you so you were sitting on the edge of the table.
He pulled your tshirt off over your head and used his finger to take some of the cake mix from his torso and spread it on your chest, before he started licking and sucking at your breasts. You groaned in delight as he started to flick his tongue over your nipple while his hand massaged the other breast. He pulled his mouth away from your chest to kiss you again before slowly lowering himself to the floor.
He knelt down between your legs, and starting kissing and licking the icing sugar that was now covering your thigh getting higher with every kiss and staring deeply into your eyes. You could feel your panties getting wetter as he reached the top of your thigh, looked up at you and said “As if you weren’t sweet enough already,” with a cheeky wink, before sliding down your shorts and now soaking underwear, leaving you completely exposed in front of him. Without any hesitation he placed his flat tongue on your clit and used his fingers to dip into you slightly then massage your sensitive folds. You threw your head back and moaned in bliss, you could feel your pulse getting stronger down there as he slipped two of his fingers into you and started rubbing on your most sensitive spots, bringing you closer to orgasm. You felt the pleasure building inside you, but you grew more desperate and needed him inside you now, so you hopped down from the table, turned Sam around so he could lie on the table while you climbed on top of him, licking some of the cake mix off his amazing chest before lining him up with your slit and slowly lowering yourself onto him. It felt so fantastic to have him filling you that you both let out a huge moan before you started gently rocking your hips, rubbing your clit on his hip as you went along.
“Fuck (Y/N)!”Sam moaned as he placed one hand firmly on your hip, helping to control the ever increasing speed of his thrusts, and getting overwhelmed with desire for you, he used the other hand to pull your lips to his so your chest was rubbing across his own. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You took firm hold off Sam’s strong arms as the wave of pleasure hit you and you tightened around him moaning his name. This sent Sam over the edge as you felt him grip your hip hard enough to leave a bruise, not that you minded, and he filled you with his warmness. Went you had ridden out your incredible orgasm you slowly raised yourself off of him and lay beside he on the table, trying to brush some of the sugar off your now glistening skin as he pulled you in to a tight hug and kissed you lovingly on the cheek with a huge grin plastered on his face.
“You look amazing and cook amazing, I am one lucky man,” He announced loudly, while covering your face in his warm, comforting kisses. You were just about to tell him how lucky you felt when you heard the oven timer going off on the other side of the kitchen.
“That’s one way to kill time while a cake bakes.” You said standing up and pulling Sam’s tshirt on as you went to get the cake out of the oven. “Funnily enough, I seem to have worked up a bit of an appetite this morning.” Sam laughed as he hopped down from the table, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug from behind. You really did feel lucky.