does his hair have two clasps in or is that just me

{PART 20} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; You finally learn the name of the man who destroyed everything you held so dear; while Jungkook comes to the realisation that the last memory he has of you might be happening right before his eyes.

“His heart only ever had one thought, one want - one need. Despite all, in spite of it all…all his heart ever wanted; was her”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} //{Part 19} {Part 20} {Part 21}

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accidentalkilljoys  asked:

okay but what if Derek was a hug deliveryman and Stiles ordered a hug

“Stiles Stilinski?”

Stiles looks up, his mouth dropping open when he reaches the pinnacle of stubbled beauty that is the man’s face. 

“Oh wow,” he says, “wow, I would not have called the leather.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Stiles kind of wants to marry his eyebrows. There’s something kind of Bronte about them, dark and brooding, like they could carry him across a windswept moor. He might be wearing a dress in this scenario. He’s comfortable in his masculinity. 

“You’re a little later than I was expecting -” he raises an eyebrow, his pause expectant. 

“Derek.”

“Derek, right. I am running late for forensics, Derek, so we’ll do the whole getting to know you thing next time, okay?” Stiles pushes his chair back with a hideous screech and regards him for a second. He figures, first time, he should probably go with the clasped hands back pounding bro-hug, only under the leather jacket there’s a forest-green henley that just looks like it smells really good, and Stiles has never been good with temptation. He slides his arms between the henley and the jacket, steps in close, presses himself against body heat and a certain rigidity that melts pretty quickly into Derek’s arms around his back, perfect pressure, snuggly bliss. 

Stiles steps back and beams

“That was - shit, perfect. Thanks, Derek.” 

“Yeah,” Derek says. He looks bemused, almost dazed. Stiles’d go in for round two only he catches sight of a clock over Derek’s shoulder and swears, slings his bag over his shoulder, runs

*

He honestly does know better than to hang out on Craigslist, Scott, he does, but where can you go wrong with a hug delivery service? That’s like hating puppies, Scott. Why would you hate the puppies? 

Scott, sounding frustrated and a little worried and kinda reluctantly amused, insists that he doesn’t hate the puppies. 

Right, Stiles agrees, because all of his plans are amazing and a hug delivery service couldn’t possibly be wrong. Right? 

It’s so much easier to read agreement into everything Scott says when they’re only calling. There are unexpected advantages to college. 

(There’s a weird email, apologising for the mix up at the coffee shop. 

Hey, Stiles sends back, I didn’t mind that you were late, no worries. And then, greatly daring, so about getting to know each other…

He honestly does know better than to pass out his actual address on the internet, okay, he does, but… y’know. Puppies.)

*

Derek’s early. 

No leather this time, though, which is thoughtful of him, just a dark red sweater with thumb holes that should possibly be illegal. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, eager and happy and grinning all over his face, and this time it triggers a tiny smile in return. “Hey, Derek.”

“Stiles,” Derek says. “Look -” 

“Are you okay to do this sitting down, this time?”

Derek’s eyebrows huddle together for warmth (the windswept moors will do that to you) but he doesn’t look exactly averse, so Stiles tugs him by the sleeve towards the sinfully comfortable eyesore of a couch, getting him situated in the corner and then leaning back against him, pulling Derek’s arm around him. He tips his head back against Derek’s shoulder and moans, faintly. 

“I swear, Derek,” he says, “you were made for me.” 

Derek doesn’t respond. His arm maybe tightens, a little. 

(A little while later, halfway into Serenity, Stiles thinks he maybe hears knocking at the door, but frankly he’s in the best damn hug of his life thus far and nothing short of fire alarms is getting him out of it.

Derek huffs into his hair. Stiles is taking that as agreement.)

***

Laura turns around when the door opens, cocking her head to one side at her brother’s appearance - he’s flushed, and a little rumpled, and almost smiling

“So,” she says, “did you give the neighbor kid the parcel we took in, yet?” 

Derek glares at her, eyebrows lowering, a wash of bright color cresting on his cheeks. 

“I’m working on it.” The tilting of his mouth looks almost involuntary. “I’ll try again tomorrow,” he says. 

A Lesson in Love (A Fresh Start)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,541

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - thank you for spending close to a month listening to me complain about this part, helping me finally get it written, and editing it for me.

Originally posted by natashamaximova

“It happened!” Wanda yells, rushing into the apartment and slamming the door shut behind her. She floats all the way to the couch, picks up a pillow, and hugs it close to her chest. “It finally happened.”

Forgetting all about the milk you were warming up in the microwave, you rush to your roommate’s side. Her cheeks are tinged a light pink color that has nothing to do with the cold. “Viz asked you out?”

Vision, known to your friends as Viz, is a foreign exchange student that Wanda has been crushing on since he asked her for directions last semester. There’s no way to compute the amount of hours you’ve spent analyzing his actions with her and trying to determine whether or not he reciprocated her feelings.

“He asked me out,” she squeals, hiding her face in the pillow and kicking her feet out in front of her. Her enthusiasm level makes you laugh; not at her, but with her. She’s been dreaming about this moment for months and you’re glad that it finally happened. If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Wanda.

That’s why you keep a tight hold on the resentment that’s attempting to consume you as you realize that Wanda has what you don’t: a date with a guy she really likes. You wish you didn’t feel this way, but the wound created by Bucky’s words last night is still raw and very much at the forefront of your mind.

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Hunted | Yoongi

Originally posted by yukidinme

Genre: Angst (sorta?) | Slight fluff (?) | Action | Mafia/Gang!AU

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (ft. Got7)

Warnings: Violence, shooting, mentions of dead bodies, cursing/swearing, etc.

 Word count: 2251

Request: Hello! I would like to request a scenario! Instead of writing blah, blah, blah I will make it easy to read: 1. Yoongi (with Agust D personality - you know, a bad, sassy, rude boy) 2. A mix of genres, whatever you feel inspired for but please - not 100% fluffy. 3. Triggers are alright, they make the plot even more interesting! If that’s okay with YOU ofc. 4. The AU totally depends on you! I thought about something like poor producer AU, drug dealer but I’m up to anything! 5. THANKS

 A/N: I’m finally back after the hiatus! Please leave me feedback as always, I hope this came out okay? I’m not sure, but feedback is much appreciated! 


“Yoongi…”

Your arms slung loosely around his slender shoulders, your lips gently pressed to his neck as you chuckled softly with a mischievous tone, and Yoongi couldn’t help his mouth from curling up ever so slightly, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

“Aish, Y/N, stop making me so soft,” he complained half heartedly, swatting your hands away as he leaned forward on his desk, his fingers intertwining, clasping his palms together on the hard surface. His phone buzzed repeatedly against the desk, and he sighed, hooking his finger onto the object and flinging it closer to him.

“What, is our big bad gang leader going all soft and gooey for me, hm?” You teased him, wanting to see how long you could keep this up, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips with the knowledge that only you could make him this soft.

Yoongi wasn’t the soft type. His own gang members held a certain fearful respect for him, their heads ducking in a nervous nod under his piercing, cold gaze whenever he strode past any of them, his pistol always swinging around his finger threateningly. They had all witnessed his incredibly short temper, how he would easily flip the trigger on anyone who insisted on pushing his buttons too far. His wrath was particularly evident when a rival gang made a puny, futile attempt to threaten him, or back out on a deal, it was safe to say they’d be seeing nothing but darkness from that moment onwards, their bodies lay limp and decorated with wounds. His work was known clearly from his signature mark, three shots; a shot in the head, in the mouth, and straight in the heart, the chilling preciseness of the wounds instilling fear in anyone who saw the cold, emotionless, steel look clouding over his eyes, as he’d cock his head to the side with a small smirk, observing his work.

For someone who seemed so emotionless and sociopathic, his stone heart held a lot of love for you, no matter how much he tried to hide it in front of others. You were strong, skilled, a valuable asset to the gang as well as his beloved, the one person who could soften his stone hard heart, who could melt away the cold glint in his eyes, replacing it with a warmth barely seen by anyone. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl up onto a smile every time he watched you walk past confidently, hair bouncing effortlessly, your eyes always sparkling with an inquisitive, curious look. You could be just as ruthless as him when needed, the sparkle in your eyes glazing over and becoming steely, much like Yoongi. There was a reason why no-one had attempted to use you as a threat towards him; not only would you have found a way to murder them where they stood, Yoongi’s full wrath would truly be enticed out of him, leaving no-one standing, their bodies hanging as an example for anyone who tried such a stunt again.

That day, you left Yoongi reclined in his office to make some phone calls, waving at Jungkook and Jimin as you walked past, two of Yoongi’s most skilled hitmen. You confidently strode through the halls, spinning your favourite dagger in your hands, and eventually slipping out through the front doors of the huge manor house, making your way towards the safe house in the back. Peering around the place, you suddenly felt a prickling feeling on the nape of your neck. Something wasn’t right. You stopped in your tracks, cocking your head to the side as you analysed your surroundings, your posture defensive, dagger gripped tightly in your hand.

“If there’s someone there, you might as well come out now, does it look like I have all fucking day to play with you? Whoever ‘you’ is?” You spoke out, tapping your foot impatiently as you continued to observe your surroundings, listening intently for any noise.

“Well, I guess you caught me out, huh?” Jackson, a member of a growing rival gang, stepped out from behind you, chuckling darkly with a raspy tone. “I always knew I could never sneak up on you, too quick for me.” He tapped his nose with a wry smile, his eyes inquisitive as he looked you up and down, tutting at the glare in your eyes. He spun guns in both hands, tilting his head at you in a deceiving puppy-like way.

“What the fuck do you want? Get it over and done with, you piece of shit,” you spat at him, clearly aggravated by this trespass onto Yoongi’s premises. “It’s either, you get out now, or this knife is going straight in your heart, you’re testing my patience right now.”

Jackson simply chuckled at your words, one eyebrow raising in a perfect arch. “Too bad, wouldn’t want to hurt Yoongi’s girl, hm?”

You were so preoccupied with glaring Jackson down, you didn’t notice Jaebum soundlessly and stealthily approaching behind you, until you felt a strong hand clamping over your mouth, his other arm wrapping around your waist in an attempt to restrain you. You felt a fire quickly burning up in your chest, and you skillfully spun the dagger in your hand, stabbing back into Jaebum’s side, causing him to double over and release his grasp on you. You threw the dagger like a dart right at Jackson, aiming for his heart without second thought, but he was quick to dart out of the way, just about, his gaze now furious as he clenched his sharp jaw.

You were about to sprint back to the manor house, if another of their members hadn’t pressed a cloth to your mouth, the dizzying scent leaving your eyes fluttering shut, your body weakening and dropping like a stone onto the hard ground, your limbs crumpling uselessly as you lay in an awkward position, passed out.

Jackson gestured towards your unconscious body, the other men quick to scoop you up, carrying you away from the scene before someone caught on what was happening.

“Little shit,” Jaebum cursed, pressing his hand to the wound, and wincing at the murky, sticky red liquid dripping from his fingers. “She knows how to use that knife, why is it always me who has to restrain them, while you just stand there having the fucking time of your life watching?” He glared at Jackson, quick to follow the other men sneaking off.

“Stop complaining, just get Youngjae to patch you up when we get back.” Jackson rolled his eyes in retaliation, strolling off in the same direction, but not before peering back at the manor house with a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s just see how long it takes lover boy over here to realise we have his girl.”

➳ ➳

“What?!”

Yoongi’s hands shook violently, his eyes obsidian with how much they had darkened, flames seemingly flickering and licking up in his gaze, his stare piercing right into Namjoon’s soul as he stood there, shifting from side to side.

Namjoon sighed, pushing his plum coloured hair back with his slender fingers, his own gaze finally returning to rest back on Yoongi’s smouldering gaze, watching him clench and unclench his jaw in complete fury.

“Say that again… I dare you,” Yoongi threatened, his voice laced with a terrifying tone that was only ever heard in moments like this, when those he loved were threatened. When you were threatened. He swore he was going to kill those sons of -

“I said, Y/N is missing, she’s nowhere to be found, not answering any calls or texts, and we found this in front of the safe house…” Namjoon slid the small white card across the table, Yoongi slowly picking it up and spinning it in his hands, crushing it in his fist in realisation.

It was a simple white card, a single black hexagon in the centre, circling the number ‘7’. Yoongi’s fist shook harder, as he grasped the crumpled card in his hands, wishing death on all those who had just crossed him.

“Those fucking… they’re going to fucking pay, believe me,” Yoongi spoke coldly again, his gaze fixated on the desk, cogs whirring in his head as he contemplated how to get you back safely, into his arms, into the manor house where he’d make sure no-one could ever dare to hurt you again.

“Taehyung managed to track the bug he planted in her vest, he thinks he has her location… of course, it’s not going to be easy to get her back, they probably have the place highly secured, security guards watching any possible entrance to the place…” Namjoon assessed all the possible layouts of your whereabouts, only to be interrupted out of his thoughts by the sound of a fist slamming into the table.

“Whatever it takes,” Yoongi breathed heavily in anger, furrowing his eyebrows in frustration, slowly rising from his seat. “We save her, and teach those motherfuckers a lesson, got it?”

Namjoon simply nodded, pulling out his phone. “I’ll inform the others, gather a team, we won’t let them get away with it.” He smiled warmly in reassurance, dimples indented into his face as he left the room, leaving Yoongi tossing a book at the wall with a frustrated sigh.

➳ ➳

“You fucking shitheads.”

You breathed heavily, your chest quickly rising and falling as you sat restrained in a rusty chair, the room dark apart from a dim light in the centre, shadows seemingly crawling across the walls as several pairs of eyes fixated on you. You hadn’t stopped cursing them out since they - with great difficulty - tied you to that chair, your eyes shooting daggers at them since then.

“Hyung, she’s so annoying, can we just let her go?” Bambam complained, earning a hit on the back of the head from Jaebum, much to his protests.

“Are you stupid? She’s our key to finally overtaking Yoongi’s gang, and taking all their shit,” Jackson leaned forward, a rather cheerful smile on his face considering the fact he was holding you hostage.

“You really think that’s going to happen?” You leaned forward in your seat, scoffing at the thought. Your mind had been racing with plans to get out of there, weighing your chances of escaping, and analysing the situation as you had been trained to do. While you kept them distracted with small talk, your hand was reaching as best as it could to pull out the spare dagger you always carried in your back pocket, smirking at their carelessness. Your hands were tied behind your back, allowing your body to shield what you were attempting to do, your hand finally clasping onto the cold blade. You began to hack at the duct tape keeping your hands together, the rest of your body remaining convincingly still, as you continued to talk at them.

“You think you can take over Yoongi’s gang that easily? You lot really are clueless as hell, huh?” You shook your head at them, your hands now free and working at the rope tied around you. You would’ve managed to free yourself, had the door not burst open, Yoongi standing there, leaning on the frame, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity. He was accompanied by his main men, along with some others, and you peered behind him at the carnage of bodies scattered in the hallway.

“So,” Yoongi nonchalantly swung his gun around his finger, his eyebrow still raised at their surprised faces. “You thought you could just kidnap my girlfriend and think I wouldn’t find her? Fucking idiots.” He yawned casually, stretching his arms out and pointing his gun right at Jackson. “Okay, I’m bored with you all.”

The first shot rang through the air, grazing Jackson’s arm as he dodged out of the way, and chaos soon ensued as Yoongi’s men and Jackson’s men began to shoot violently at each other, knives flying through the air, and bullets speeding. You managed to free yourself in all the mess, jumping up and kicking Jackson right in the crotch with your boots, causing him to collapse in pain.

Shots continued to fire through the air, Jaebum pressing his hand to a wound for the second time that day, except this time it was located right above his heart, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body collapsed, lying limp on the floor. Jackson cursed at the sight, clutching his own wounded arm as he tried to fire everyone down, and yet he stood almost alone, all his members either dead or too injured to fight.

“Give it up,” Yoongi pointed the gun at his head once again, tilting his head and cocking his eyebrow at him. “You won’t last a fucking day without the rest of your gang.” You helped up some of your own injured members during the exchange, helping to usher them out and glancing back at Yoongi.

Jackson glared at him, coughing up blood and groaning in pain as he clutched his arm, stumbling from the pain. He glanced around at the carnage around him, sighing as he realised he’d have to admit defeat.

“Let this be a warning to you, you fucking touch any of my gang again, and I’ll make sure you’re not standing either.” And with that, Yoongi walked out with you in tow, ducking expectantly as Jackson attempted to fire at his head, Yoongi spinning around and shooting his other arm too.

“You never learn, huh?”

“Blue Flames” - One Shot

Please do not post this anywhere else without my permission. 

Rating: M (Smut) 

Preview: 

You hated going to these functions for Harry sometimes because you didn’t really know how to talk to the rich and famous, much less make a good impression and talk up your boyfriend to these said rich people who were going to make Harry more of a star than he already is. It was much easier earlier on in the relationship to attend to things like this because you knew of three other guys who would be there as a crutch if Harry was off in a serious conversation with a producer or someone who could help him go solo.

           Tonight was so much more different, as Harry was auditioning to land a major movie role and he was extremely excited, but extremely nervous about not getting the part. Knowing that you are HIS crutch made your heart swell a little more, but knowing that you would have to talk to a room full of completely different people, even a completely different scene with no one to fall back on was starting to make the nerves in your stomach race so hard that you felt nauseous. But nevertheless you put on your black dress that fell to the floor in your giant closet that the two of you shared when Harry asked you to move in to his house in LA.

           “Babe?” You heard Harry somewhere in the bedroom, his voice darting a bit forward at the last letter of the word, knowing that he was rounding the corner to the closet. He stood in the doorframe looking down at his hands that were holding two different necklaces, both long; one was gold and the other silver, both holding pendants at the very bottom. The silver pendant adorned his plain silver but slightly larger cross, and the gold chain held one small coin pendant at the bottom and the other chain above it was a small gold cross.

           Harry stuck out his hands that his somewhat more inexpensive pieces dangled from, raising both eyebrows at you. You squinted and your eyes raked over his long and lean torso, a black silk button down (which was almost all the way un-buttoned) was carefully and neatly tucked into the long black and white pinstripe pants over his black and so shiny you could see yourself in them boots. You licked your lips just slightly at the sheer sight of him, and his tongue grazed the inside of his cheek as he rolled his eyes.

           “Don’ have time for that, love,” he grinned his little smirk that made his dimple flash, and you wondered how you weren’t jumping on him right then and there.

           “Shutup. Not like you don’t do it to me,” you crossed your arms and glared at him, shifting all your weight to one hip. He immediately saw your body change and his eyes flew down to your chest that was pushed up by your arms just enough. You rolled your eyes this time, and poked two fingers hard into his shoulder.

           “This one,” you pointed to the silver cross and helped him get it over his head quickly, as he has seemed to freeze momentarily.

           “Thanks. Kiss,” his lips puckered out and you looked at him for a moment and paused, his lips starting to turn into a frown when you leaned forward quickly and pecked at them, his smile was triumphant.

           “You ready, love?” He asked, shrugging on his very tailored black velour jacket that fell at his hips, nudging his long hair from in-between his shirt and the jacket to fall out easily, adjusting the collar and his hair, again.

           “Mmm, just let me get my coat,” you said to him and turned to the white pea-coat hanging on the rack that you hung carefully as if not to spill or even breathe on it before his big night. Just then the moment hit you hard, you knew that it was extra important and wondered how you even agreed to this. It might have been the way Harry was standing in the doorframe looking hot as hell, or it might have been the way he ate you out as a plea and a bribe so feverishly just last night that you thought you went to actual heaven because of all the white and the stars (twice); either way, you were nervous and he was, too.

           “Harry,” you said just barely audible, tears prickling at your eyes.

Harry turned to face you and saw your body frame slumped, almost eaten by the pea coat around your arms and your lips were pouting as to say please, don’t make me do this. He strode over to you and in one simple step of his long legs and he was holding you tightly by the waist with one strong arm, the other swiping his padded thumb over your cheek. You felt his breath linger over your forehead as he kissed the temple, and then dipped his eyes to look at you, searching your face momentarily.

“I won’ leave your side, promise,” he grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours and tugged slightly, his eyes never left yours as you gave up in defeat and nodded, following him out of the house.  

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Frustrations

A Sam & Dean x Reader / smut

HAPPY SMUT APPRECIATION DAY!

A/N: Here is my contribution for Smut Appreciation Day: Vol. 2. I can’t believe it’s been a year since the first epic day. I want all of you to tag me in your filth while I’m at work today, and I promise I will read ALL of them when I get home tonight. Please let me know what you think. Happy reading (and masturbating)!

Word Count: 3,615

Warnings:
- smut. this is very graphic.
- if you don’t like reading about sexual situations, abort now.
- this is a threesome and can also be viewed as a polyamorous relationship between Sam, Dean, and reader.
- there is no wincest in this fic.
- language.
- always wear a condom, kids!

Tags: (at the end)

*gifs are not mine.

The three of you were covered in mud from head to toe. This particular hunt had gone a bit south, due to the unexpected rainstorm that had decided to fuck with your mission. Dean protested the entire way home about the state his interior was currently in, constantly pestering both you and Sam to keep your boots off the floor. Although you’d accomplished what you’d sought out to do, all of you were bickering back at forth at one another like children the entire ride home.

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Don’t Say Anything (part 10)

Summary: You finally decide to tell Bucky that you’ve been in love with him since the day you met but what happens when you walk in on him with a girl? And not just any girl; Natasha.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: I CAAAANNNNTTTTTTTTT

A/N: I’m going to Pride for the first time this Saturday and I’m sooooo excited :)

It goes completely silent. Like dead silent and you hate it. Wanda’s looking between you and Natasha while your voice gets caught up in your throat.

“Nat.. I-I’m-” you stop speaking, running your fingers through your hair.

The fiery red head stood in front of you, mouth slightly open in shock. For a spy, she did not see this coming. Everything happened so fast. You didn’t mean to blurt it out. You cracked under pressure. This is exactly what you were trying to prevent from happening.

Suddenly the door bursts open and in walks Bucky and Steve, worried looks etched on their faces and guns pointed.

“What’s going on? We heard yelling.” Steve spoke first, eyes searching the room. From where they were, all they could hear was muffled yelling and they thought you and the girls were in some sort of danger. Once Steve looks at you, he lowers his gun. “What happened?”

Your eyes travel over to Nat who kept her gaze on the ground. Your heart broke. “Nat, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Steve glances between the two of you before glaring at Bucky. “You’re not waiting any longer - talk to her.”

“But-”

“Talk to her!”

Bucky let out a shaky breath before stepping towards Nat. “Natasha can I.. Can I talk to you? Alone?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, we have a lot to talk about.”

You watch the two exit your room and your eyes fill with tears yet again. As your lip quivered, Steve pulled you into a hug where you let out a sob. “She hates me, Steve. I hurt her.”

“She doesn’t hate you, Y/N.” he sighed, rubbing your back in a comforting manner.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me. She was so hurt. I betrayed her.” you cried. “What kind of friend am I?”

He shushed you, petting your hair softly as you cried your eyes out. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She wasn’t supposed to find out. All you wanted was for them to be happy regardless if it hurt your feelings and made you want to drown in your own tears.

Wanda slowly got off the bed and placed her hand on your back. “Are you okay?”

You step away from Steve and wipe away your tears. “I fucked up.”

“I tried to stop it, Y/N.”

“I know. I should’ve walked out or something. Anything really.” you sniffled. “Now she hates me.”

“Steve’s right, she doesn’t hate you.” Wanda frowned. “Shocked, yeah. But she would never hate you.”

“Why wouldn’t she hate me? She just found out that her best friend is in love with her boyfriend. Of course she hates me!” you exclaim.

Steve’s eyebrows raise. “You’re in love with Bucky?”

Both you and Wanda ignore him. “Don’t think like that. She doesn’t hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Wait.” Steve waved his hand. “You’re in love with Bucky?”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” you sigh.

“For how long?”

“Does it matter? Nothing good-”

“Five years.” Wanda cut in and you glare at her.

“Five years?!” he shouts. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“What?” the both of you say, watching as Steve slapped his palm against his forehead.

“Bucky, he-” but he stops himself.

“He what?” you question.

Steve cleared his throat. “That’s not for me to tell.”

“What the hell? Tell me.” you take a step towards the blonde.

He takes a step backwards. “No.”

“Steve, I’ve had enough today. Just tell me.”

“You’ll have to ask Bucky.”

You scoff. As if you’ll ever go near Bucky now. You should’ve just stayed away from him right when you found out about the two of them. Now everything’s out of control. You’re pretty sure Natasha hates you and Bucky  - Why would Bucky want to be with you now? Nothing will change with him.

Platinum blonde hair pokes into your room and the man attached to it smiles. “Guess who’s back and brought a cake… What’s going on? Why are your eyes all red?”

He fully steps into your room with a bag hanging from his wrist and you exhale loudly.

“Not now, Pietro.” Wanda says, shooing him away with her hand.

Pietro snarls. “Not now my ass, she’s crying.”

“Just go!” she points to the door.

“Like I’d ever listen to you, младшая сестра.” he scoffed, setting the bag down on your bed. “What happened.”

“She’s in love with Bucky.” Steve says as Pietro walked towards you.

“You finally told him? Did he reject you? Is that why you’re crying?” he held you by your upper arm, eyes filled with concern. You glance at Wanda then at Steve before letting out a sigh.

And you told him everything.


Bucky led Natasha to his room where he shut the door and locked it so they could have their private conversation. Bucky was nervous. His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding and he wanted to throw up.

If he even said the slightest thing to piss her off, she’d murder him. Literally. Bucky walks around her and sits on his bed, patting the spot next to him. Natasha doesn’t say a word as she sits beside him, a decent gap space between the two of them. She was thinking hard, thinking about the mini argument with Bucky 3 days ago, thinking about everything that’s happened, literally in the past hour and 30 minutes.

The brunette clasps his hands together, leaving them to rest on his lap and clears his throat. “So..”

“Do you like Y/N?” Nat asked, not bothering to waste any time. “Be honest with me.”

“I - Yeah. Yeah, I do.” he breathed.

Natasha exhaled an ‘okay’ and looked over at Bucky. “Don’t hurt my best friend, Barnes. Do you hear me?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“If she ever comes crying to me because of you, you’re dead.”

“Got it.”

“Alright.” she nods. “We’re done here.”

Natasha moves to stand up but Bucky grabs her hand. “Wait, that’s it? We didn’t even get to actually talk!”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” she replied.

Bucky scoffed. “There’s a lot to talk about.”

The red head sighed and sat to face Bucky. “Alright, fine. Let’s talk.”

“Thank you.” he breathed. “Before I start I just want you to know that I do care about you and you’re a great person.” Nat nods. “Okay so, before.. us happened I had a thing for Y/N but I didn’t think she.. you know, liked me back.” this made Nat scoff as she thought back to what you had blurted out earlier. “And then you came along and we got to talking which then led to.. you know and every time I was with you, I forgot about my feelings for Y/N. You were like a distraction. What we had was a.. a fling. You know that. I enjoyed your company. You filled the hole inside me briefly, the one that yearned for Y/N’s love and affection. I know this all sounds bad, trust me - and I know that messing with your feelings was a douchebag move but at the time, I thought I wanted to be with you. I told myself over and over again that I wanted to be with you and not Y/N but fuck, seeing Pietro all over her these past couple of days annoyed the hell out of me and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore - I couldn’t hurt you as well. I couldn’t string you along, making you think that I loved you when really, my heart belongs to Y/N.”

Nat nods her head. “So you were using me this whole time?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily word it like that but yeah.” he sighed. “It was a dick move, I know. It’s fine if you want to hit me or cut my balls off. I deserve it. I’m sorry.”

The red head exhales. “If I were some other woman, I’d be absolutely furious right now. I’d want to punch you, knee you in the balls so hard that you wouldn’t be able to produce children later on in the future.” Bucky chuckled softly. “But, I’m not some other woman. I’m me. And although everything you just said was fucked up, I shouldn’t be one to judge because I’ve been using you too.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows at Natasha’s words. “What?”

“I was in a bad place when we started talking. Bruce had ran off without even saying goodbye to me. I had to hear from Tony that he left. Fucking Tony. I was sad, I mean I really did love him. I get that he had to leave for the protection of everyone around him but a simple goodbye would’ve sufficed, you know?” Bucky nods. “Anyways we got to talking and all that other stuff and for a minute, you’d make me forget about all the heartbreak Bruce caused me. Just like I filled the hole in you that craved Y/N, you filled the hole in me. A distraction was what you were. You distracted me from my real feelings. I know what we had was a fling, I never saw it as anything more than a casual talk and fuck - sometimes make out sessions. But other than that, I didn’t have feelings for you. I liked the fact that you distracted me from Bruce and I guess I made myself think that I actually liked you in the process.” she ran her fingers through her hair. “And I’m sorry too.”

“Wow.” Bucky laughed, staring straight ahead at his wall. “So us dating, that was-”

“Completely idiotic and for no reason.” she finished for him.

He face palmed. “Oh my god, we’re idiots.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “We are.”

“We didn’t even actually like each other, why did we start dating?” Bucky questioned, although he already knew the answer.

I have no idea.” Nat laughed. “Oh, and sorry about getting all mad after accusing you of liking Y/N. I guess I got frustrated that reality was setting in and the fantasy was no longer there.”

“It’s cool. Sorry for.. literally everything.” Bucky shrugged.

“It’s fine.” she chuckled. “No hard feelings?”

“No hard feelings.” he nodded before running his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, now I have to talk to Y/N. What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“I have a feeling she will.” the spy says as she stood up, extending her hand out for Bucky to take. “Come on, let’s go get your girl.”

The super soldier takes her hand and stands up, following her out to the hallway. “You know Y/N’s a jealous person, right? Not too jealous though but a reasonable amount of jealous.” she says.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” he smiled. “Ooo she’s gonna get so mad and jealous when she realizes that we’ve had sex. Plus those make out sessions and the amount of times she’s caught us. Wow. You’re in some deep shit.”

“She’s gonna get mad at you, not me.” Nat scoffed.

“You were messing around with her man.” Bucky countered.

She rolled her eyes. “Sisters before misters, Barnes. Never forget.”

“Yeah well… Bucky before Nat.” he replied, causing the red head to laugh.


A/N: OH MY GOD I’M FINALLY DONE WITH THIS FLIPPING CHAPTER AND I REALLY HAVE TO PEE SO HERE YOU GO I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS PART, IMA GO PEE NOW. TELL ME WHAT YA THINK

TAGS ARE CLOSED BC I CN’T KEEP UP SORRY AMIGOS

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Sorry to the peeps who didn’t get tagged! Ima go pee now lmao

anonymous asked:

135 !?

Prompt: ‘I always want to come home to you’ or alternatively, ‘part one of giving Harry a blowjob in front of his friends.’ 

I’ve taken this request from the drabble list from ages ago and made it into part one of this concept. I understand that this concept is not everyone’s cup of tea, you don’t have to read this by any means, just skip over it if it’s not for you. 😂 Thank you all for being so patient and I hope you like it. P.S. I don’t know yet when part two will be posted. 

💕


[25] ‘Bout showing you off. [MATURE.] 

Obviously she hadn’t just ended up sliding her lips up and down his cock for his friends to watch, without deciding beforehand she was going to slide her lips up and down his cock for his friends to watch.

Anyway, with that said, it’s late and she’s got to be up early tomorrow. And that would have been rough anyway but they’re only now stumbling through their front door. Harry’s head nearly spinning and she’s just shrieked thinking their coat hanger was a person.

‘You’re fuckin pissed.’ He laughs closing the door behind them.

‘Thought it was a person,’ she groans. ‘A very tall person.’

To be fair, sober isn’t what Harry is either.

She stumbles her way into the kitchen with the heels that are no longer helping anyone. She knows that if she drinks a bedtime tea now, tomorrow wont be so cruel. So she chucks her shoes off, each one flying off somewhere else as she climbs on top of their kitchen counter in search for chamomile.

‘Get the fuck down from there,’ he groans. ‘M’too sloshed to help you if you fall.’

‘If you hadn’t gone and put the bloody mugs on the highest fuckin shelf wouldn’t have to climb like a fuckin koala in my own home.’ She whines.

‘Get down from there.’ He grins. ‘M’being serious, know I don’t look like m’being serious because m’a bit drunk but m’serious. Come down from there.’

‘M’already regretting living with you.’ She knocks down several tea boxes as she finds the right one. ‘And we only just signed the papers!’ She slowly finds her way down from the countertop.

‘Coz of the mugs?’

‘Coz of the mugs.’ She agrees. She remembers the water, how she needs to boil water for tea. She was just thinking hard down at her mug trying to figure out why she couldn’t drink it yet and what could be missing.

‘Fuck!’ Harry yells from the foyer.

‘Ouch!’ She steps over her pointy heels getting to the kettle.

‘Thought you was a person!’ Harry groans loudly at their coat hanger.

‘I told you so!’ She calls to him as she flicks the kettle on

‘No, you’re not boiling water right now!’ Harry calls from where he is.

‘M’gonna be sick on the plane! M’gonna be the drunk lady that vomited on the plane. Tequila, scallops and prawns and god knows what else I ate tonight.’

‘Them chocolate strawberries.’ He pulls her away from the kitchen counter, switching off the kettle. She’s in no state of mind to handle hot water right now. But he opens the fridge to take out a much needed water bottle.

‘You let me eat those?’ She whines. She’s trying to lay off the sugar for the next week and a half. She knows nothing will come out of it, chocolate is a food group of hers but she’s interested in the experiment.

‘Three of those cookie sandwich type things too. The ones with the ice cream?’

‘Three!’ She groans.

‘Three.’ He answers.

‘And you didn’t want to remind me about—’

‘Have you seen yourself after three shots of—’

‘The worst,’ she huffs. ‘You’re the absolute worst. First the mugs and now the ice cream sandwiches with the chocolate strawberries.’ She groans. ‘And now m’gonna be sick on the plane.’

He just nods, agreeing but they really need to get upstairs to sleep. His feet are heavy, can barely carry himself let alone his girlfriend who’s stumbling just the same.

‘C’mon now, one at a time.’

‘Need my shoes.’ She wiggles out of his grasp. She doesn’t, she needs to sleep but she’s already managed out of his hold.

‘No you don’t, can’t have you breaking a foot in those when you can’t even walk without them.’

Harry doesn’t finish his sentence because he’s exchanged words for loud laughs as she slips on her heels, each on the wrong foot. ‘Stop laughing at me,’ she glares as he hunches over, his tummy aching from the laughs she’s causing him.

‘Leave ‘em, you’re gonna fall and break something.’ He pulls her up from the floor, holding her up by her arm. They manage the steps, a few at a time until they get to the end of the landing to their bedroom.

‘Drink.’ He hands her the uncapped water bottle. She takes large gulps before handing it back to him and demanding he do the same.

She gets her dress off after pulling down the straps. She turns to the long mirror to help her locate the clasp of her bra, there’s no way she’s finding it on her own in this state. This is her pajama every night anyway, just her underwear. She finds it silly not to take advantage of the weather when she’s here and not in London where she’s slept with two pairs of socks on more than once.

‘Meant what I said.’ He calls to her over the running water as she washes her face.

‘Bout what?’ He hears her as the water shuts off. She walks out of the bathroom with her body butter, handing it to him. ‘You say a lot of things.’ She grins. He takes it from her, patting the empty side of the bed next to him. She lays down as he hovers over her partially. She’s much too tired to do this herself and he likes doing it anyway.

‘Bout showing you off.’ He uncaps the scented body lotion that he’ll always associate with her.

It isn’t night time or bedtime if she isn’t rubbing lotion into her skin. One of Harry’s first memories was just this, the smell, the one she left on his sheets when they were still just ‘figuring it out.’ That smell, her smell eases his shoulders always.

He’s quite thorough in the way he works his hands across her body. She sighs, her eyelids heavy as he rubs the lotion over her. He works across her legs, laying each one down back on the bed gently after he’s finished. He leaves soft kisses by the inside her leg as she squirms slightly against the sheets. She squeals too as he kisses up her navel back to her chest.

She turns on her stomach so he can get the back of her too. ‘Showing me off?’ She asks herself, trying to understand it. ‘Hmm,’ She hums in understanding.

His hands travel over her back, he kisses the soft skin there before rolling his hands down over her bum. He’s got nice hands, big too, perfect for doing just this. And she likes his hands on her. And they like her body.

‘What does ‘hmm’ mean?’ He asks.

‘Nothing yet.’ She smiles. ‘Still thinking.’

He makes sure to get everywhere he can, rubs the body cream into the back of her hands and up to her fingertips too before kissing them softly.

‘There,’ he kisses her shoulder. ‘All done.’ He says screwing the cap back on and setting it back on the nightstand.

‘Spank me.’ She grins against her pillow.

‘Not tonight.’ He chuckles loudly. ‘Not when you’ve got to sit on a plane for hours tomorrow, m’not that mean.’

‘You are.’ She mutters.

‘How’s that?’

‘For not spanking me when m’asking nicely for it.’

‘Can’t hate me tomorrow then.’

‘I won’t,’ she shakes her head against the plush pillow. ‘Just for the chocolate strawberries and them cookie sandwiches. And the tequila, m’gonna really hate you for that.’

She shudders slightly but smiles when he’s got his lips trailing down the line of her back.

‘Put them back on,’ she mumbles. ‘Your rings.’

‘You’re really gonna hate me tomorrow.’ He reaches back over to nightstand where he’s left them before rubbing his hands over her with lotion.

‘I know.’

‘M’only giving you three.’ He says.

‘I know,’ she grins. ‘Because you’re mean.’

‘Two then?’

‘Stop.’ She whines. ‘We’ve already established that you’re the worst. What does a girlfriend have to do to get her boyfriend to spank her?’ She sighs.

Harry laughs as he props her up on her knees. He hooks his thumbs at the sides of her underwear, pulling them down the swell of her backside. ‘You know exactly what.’

‘Acting out.’ She replies.

‘Mmm.’

‘Was too drunk to remember to act out so you’d spank me when we got home.’ She bites over her bottom lip when he cups her bum, picking his mark.

She hears it long before she feels it. She exhales sharply when the sting sets in until she lets out a moan that maddens him. Her wobbly knees and his swat across her bum jolt her forward as her back arches into a picture he thinks about a lot.

‘Tell me.’

‘M’good.’ she breathes. ‘Again, do it again please.’

The silver of his rings are no longer cold against her blazing skin when they meet her backside for the second time. She’s got proper marks now, both cheeks red, some parts redder than others depending on where his rings landed.

Both of them will never get tired of this, the way her skin blossoms into a pink then into a red, the sting that aches but tingles perfectly and the sounds both of the actual spank and her moans and whimpers.

‘You’re good at this, told you that before haven’t I?’ She smirks attempting to move back slightly to get more of it. ‘Harder this time.’

‘Gonna remember you telling me this tomorrow right? When you’re whining about how it stings getting your jeans on?’

‘Won’t wear jeans then.’ She sturdies herself with her palms flat on the mattress, neck stretched back waiting.

He pulls her hair to one side, wrapping it around his hand pulling her head back slowly. ‘Remember this then, how you were asking for it.’ He whispers below her ear.

His hand comes down harder on the already red and sensitive skin. This one has her knees buckling and her moans are let out into the pillows when she falls to her stomach once her hands and knees fail her.

He lowers himself to hover slightly over her back, kissing down the line of it while rubbing his hand into the taut skin. He throws her panties to the floor knowing her skin would reject the idea of putting them back on. And he prefers this sight much more.

‘Good?’ He asks turning her to lay on her back to face him and she hums contently. ‘M’I gonna have to do this every time you ask me to rub lotion on you? Thought it was the only innocent thing we had going for us.’ He grins.

It had been. She was always too lazy to do it herself and he loved touching her. He’ll always do it before bedtime, likes he loves touching her and he likes the way the smell lingers on her and onto the sheets. That way, he’ll still get to keep some of her when she leaves.

‘Probably best we don’t mix the two then,’ she smiles turning herself onto her back. ‘Just needed something to look at until you come back home.’

He grins getting up from the bed to get himself ready for bed as well. She pulls forward the duvet on her side of the bed, tucks herself in, presses in the fluffy pillows to her liking.

‘M’about to sweat it out aren’t I?’ He unbuttons his dress shirt and however drunk or slightly tipsy he is, remembers to hang it in their closet. ‘Have to be patient and all that?’ He turns to her.

‘You’re used to it by now.’ She silences her phone after setting her alarm for tomorrow morning.

‘Hope you sleep through it.’ He grins, he really doesn’t want her to go.

He is in fact used to being patient now. He’s impatient by nature but he’s grown to become far more patient since meeting her. A lot of patience is needed in a relationship like theirs and it only works if there’s a great deal of it.

‘You’ll think about it though?’ He mumbles from the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth.

She has a been thinking, she’s thinking about it now. She’s giving it so much thought she’d forgotten to tell him that she’s thinking about it.  

‘Hm?’ He reminds her hovering over her once he’s ready for sleep.

‘Told you I would.’ She presses her fingertips to his lips. ‘If you keep nagging won’t have time to think about it.’ Harry understands, nods before kissing her fingertips.

It’s late and their tummies are happily full from good food and tasty drinks. He brings her close to him, his hand drapes over her waist as he nuzzles himself into the space between her neck and her shoulder.

‘Where are you gonna put it?’ She asks. ‘Make it good, make sure it’s a place where you can start a proper collection in.’

‘A proper collection huh?’ He grins adjusting the pillow behind his head.

‘A proper collection. You’re quite the talent don’t you know…’

‘Mmm.’ He hums against her shoulder.

‘Can fell you blushing.’ She smiles.

‘Stop that.’ He whines.

She never misses an opportunity to celebrate and when they’d been out and about just this morning and he got the news she knew it was the perfect reason to go out and celebrate. (Even if it meant too much tequila and many chocolate covered strawberries.)

Like this color,’ she says holding up different paint samples to the light. ‘Isn’t as overwhelming as the other one. Could go well with the couch in the sitting room…’ She realizes only a minute after that she’s just been talking to herself in the middle of the store. ‘Harry? Where’s he gone now…has the attention span of a goldfish…’ She pulls out her phone just before she feels his hand at her back. ‘There you are, need your final say about this grey.’ She holds up the sample. ‘Why are you smiling that big…where did you go…your face has gone as bright as this yellow color…why—’

‘You’ve got to come back here in a few weeks, so best you be letting your job know now…February 26th…’  

She thinks really hard, with all she’s got but comes up with nothing. ‘What’s on the 26th?’

‘Have I got to give you a hint?’ He grins. ‘Films…actors—’

‘The Oscars?’ She asks and he nods. ‘Wait!’ She nearly yells. She feels like quite the goldfish now. ‘Oh my god!’ She yells again.

‘Shhh—’

‘I told you!’ She nearly leaps onto him. ‘I told you didn’t I! Did I not?’ She laughs wrapping her arms around his neck. She can’t keep still in his hold as he wraps her legs around him. ‘Told you that you’d be nominated,’ she shakes her head. ‘When are you gonna start listening to me?’ She kisses him sweetly.

‘Didn’t think I would actually be nom—’

‘Start listening to your girlfriend then. Only been wrong twice before, ‘bout that restaurant on the west end and the sweet Irish lady losing the bakeoff.’ She grins widely before kissing him again and again.

‘Has it really only been twice?’ He wonders. Can’t be…he knows she’s usually right about most things but—

‘I’ll be there, promise. I’ll swim if I have to. M’an ok swimmer.’

‘You’re not.’

‘M’really not.’ She laughs.

But she’ll be there. She promises.

‘You’re funny.’ She sighs as he kisses below her ear. He doesn’t ever want to leave this bed. Getting out of this bed, their new bed in their new house will be terribly hard tomorrow.

‘Yeah?’ He asks sleepily.

‘Yeah, you were just nominated for a bloody oscar today and you’re blushing ‘bout being worthy of one.’

‘Suppose I am a bit funny then.’

‘Suppose you are.’

He rests his head contently at her shoulder, wrapping his arm around her waist. ‘You looked gorgeous tonight angel.’

‘At least one of us will remember tonight.’ She grins.

‘Like showing you off,’ he grins to himself but she feels it against her skin. ‘Love having you with me.’

‘Know you do, s’why you want this one thing so bad.’

‘Think you’d enjoy it love,’ he pulls her closer to him. ‘Always been a bit of a showoff.’

‘Am not.’ She pushes back against him on purpose and he groans playfully.

‘No? What about all the pictures and videos—’

‘Those were for you.’

‘This’ll be too. For my birthday.’

‘You want that to be your birthday present?’ She laughs.

‘Well I don’t want a paper weight.’

‘Who’s gonna gift you a paper weight, was gonna get you a blender.’

‘A blender?’

‘Yeah, I want a blender.’ She mutters.

‘How’s that my birthday gift then?’ He laughs.

‘You’d have a blender?’ She answers obviously.

‘Don’t need a blender.’

‘But you need me to suck you off in front of your friends?’ She grins.

‘S’more exciting than a blender.’

‘Do you know how many things you can make with a blender?’

She really does just like giving him a hard time. Because she’d be the biggest fibber if she’d said she didn’t want to be shown off once or twice before. Or that the idea, while sinful is alluring.

‘M’getting a fucking blender aren’t I?’ He mumbles against her shoulder.

‘There’s a slight difference between a blender and a blowjob in front of your friends…s’all m’saying.’

‘S’not like they’re strangers. You know all of them.’

He’s already told her that if she changes her mind that’d be perfectly fine too. And if she’ll agree to it they’ll talk about the details further. The where and how’s.

‘Know that.’

‘M’not sharing you. You won’t be sucking them off you’d be sucking me off and—’

‘Really?’ She asks sarcastically. ‘Don’t want to watch me suck them off as well?’ She scoffs. ‘Aren’t into that are you?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Think you’d like the praise and being watched is all. Wouldn’t have brought it up if I thought it’d just be for my benefit only.’

He’s not wrong, she does like being praised, being told how good she’s being, how good she is. He’s just taken this all a few steps forward.

‘Just think about it yeah? If you say yes then we’ll discuss the details then and if you say no then that’ll be that.’

She’s curious. There’s plenty she doesn’t know and plenty of questions she has. Would his friends be ok with it as well? Where exactly would this take place? How would the opportunity even present itself? But she leaves those questions aside for now.

‘I’ll think about it on the plane, give you an answer by the time m’home.’ She says and he smiles against her skin.

She’s got a tight busy schedule, it might not look like his but it’s just as busy. She’s got a full time job that she takes home with her sometimes despite Harry’s rule about not taking work home with you.

But he managed to have her for the last four days to sign off on their new house and get started with the move and decorating. He can’t do it alone, won’t be their home if he would have. But they spent far less time picking out furniture and paint colors than doing other things. And just like that she’s got to go back to London tomorrow and they’re not any closer to agreeing on paint colors.

She has to leave early tomorrow and neither of them are ready. But used to the idea. She has to get back to work and so does he. He’s had her for the holidays and these few days now but it all seems minimal and awfully scattered.

‘You don’t have to leave tomorrow, right?’ He grins. ‘Can stay with me until Sunday? Or for another week…two if it isn’t much trouble.’

‘You’re almost done here.’ She assures. ‘Just two more weeks and m’all yours right?’ It’s his birthday soon and he’s made sure to take off some time for it.

‘What am I supposed to do about the paint colors then?’ He yawns.

‘Call me.’ She kisses his forehead.

‘At one in the morning your time?’

‘Even then.’

‘Remember that when you’re groaning at me for waking you up in the middle of the night to talk about paint.’

‘Remind me.’ She grins and so does he. Her body settles against his with a relaxed sigh as he kisses her shoulder gently. ‘M’so proud of you. And m’hoping you’re proud of you too.’ She whispers.

He pulls her in tightly, ‘thank you.’ he whispers.

‘Can’t believe I know someone as special as you are.’ She kisses his neck softly. ‘Can feel you blushing again.’ She grins.

‘Stop.’ He whines sleepily.

Harry doesn’t let her get up when her alarm clock rings at eight in the morning. He smothers her, pulls her underneath him, holds her tightly to him as he falls back asleep contently. She lets him, just a few more minutes she promises.

He groans when she tries to wiggle out twenty minutes later, ‘m’gonna miss my flight—c’mon love, I know it’s hard…’

‘Tell them I was feeling poorly so you had to stay…didn’t like the idea of leaving me in the state m’in.’ He mumbles.

‘Harry—’

‘Take the next one, this evening…just give me a few hours longer.’

‘Oh my god,’ she groans. ‘I can’t believe this.’ She says aloud but it’s just meant for her. She knew this would happen, that he’d be stubborn and she’d have no willpower to leave either. Because it just keeps getting harder. She should just stop booking flights in the morning because it never goes to plan.

‘Please.’ He whispers. ‘Please, just a few more hours. I’ll get you on the next one, promise.’

‘I’m—’

‘Won’t let you get in trouble, just need a few more hours with you. Not ready yet.’

She sees it in the way he’s holding onto her. How four days only are cruel and the thought of spending nights without holding onto her makes him hold on tighter. He panics sometimes, only for a minute when either of their alarms go off on a given morning. He gets used to having her, forgets about the limited time and then he really does feel like she’s being torn away from him. He’s not any good at them, at goodbyes.

‘Ok,’ she whispers. She sets her phone back on the nightstand, shutting it off as she lets him pull the duvet back over them.

The thing about delaying their goodbyes is that it doesn’t make it any easier. Delaying them doesn’t make them disappear, just puts them off until later. He knows this by now but will still beg her to stay until she really does have to leave.

It’s eleven now, the sun is bright and warm. Harry much prefers this, waking up late without an alarm and with her as the sun streams in. He sleeps the best when it’s warm and she’s here, he catches up on sleep when she’s sleeping beside him.

The assortment of teas are scattered on the floor and the kettle is left deserted from last night. He chuckles to himself as he picks them up and heats up the water. He looks back at the clock, they still have a few hours. She could use the sleep.

He makes the tea the way they both like it. Their house is coming together slowly, still echoey from the lack of furniture that needs to be delivered. But as Harry climbs the steps back up to their room, he feels like it’s theirs.

‘I let you get away with it again.’ She groans into her pillow when he places the mug on her bedside table. ‘M’I really that weak?’ She pushes her hair off her face as he gets back into the warm bed.

He nods pulling her on top of him, she might as well be or maybe he’s just skillfully persuasive. She rolls her eyes and he’s happy to see her pretty ones even then while she’s straddling him.

She falls into his chest, resting there because she’s not thinking about the missed flight anymore. He sighs contently, this is the most settled he’s felt in a while, with her resting against him as he plays mindlessly with the ends of her hair. The stillness of the morning and the comfortable silence fills the gaps between their steady breathing that have synced up.

His hands trail down south innocently at first before he’s got a silly grin on him as he cups his hand over her bare bum.

‘S’for the best, should heal a bit first.’ He grins into her neck. ‘Still sore right?’

‘Mmm,’ she rolls her eyes again reaching for the tea mug beside her.

As the afternoon creeps up they’re sitting outside in the sun contently, eating a late breakfast together like he wanted. He wanted to go swimming too, they haven’t since they moved in and they’ve got a really nice pool too. And it’s perfectly sunny and he just has to have her against him for whatever time he has left. He grins into her neck when she mentions the cold water feeling nice on her red bum. He holds her close to him in the water, watches her swim back and forth a few times before bringing her back to him to wrap her body around his.

He’s pulling her bikini bottoms down before she’s even out of the pool. And in retaliation she’s got her hand wrapped around him and they don’t make it inside the house in time.

She admitted it all to herself then, when he’s fucking her by the pool on a perfect sunny day, that staying for these few hours were absolutely necessary. His skin is warm from the sun, small water droplets still stream down his body, between them as he thrusts roughly into her.

When he’d proposed they needed a few of these outdoor furniture pieces she’d agreed but now she’s fully thankful for them.

She wraps her legs around him tighter, needing him as close as he can get. Her sore bum rubs up against the surface beneath her, he told her to switch positions but she doesn’t mind it oddly. The sting and the tingles are always something she’s chasing after. And she’d rather him be on top of her like this now than ride him, she wants him up against her tightly, she needs him to hover over her like this and she wants to hold onto him. Because soon, these small things and remembered details will be the only things getting her through the next few weeks.

Her bikini bottoms never fully made it off with his impatient hands as they hang at her right ankle as he continues with his slick thrusts into her.

‘How am I—meant to last two weeks without this.’ He groans. ‘So good…shit you’re good love.’

She’s exhaling sharply, cracked whimpers leaving her as she comes around him. He’s fucking her through it, driving into her as she keeps tightening around him. He cups her face, making her stay with him so he can get her there again.

‘Good girl, that’s my good girl.’ He groans as she struggles to say anything back. She’s sensitive, overly stimulated as he relentlessly keeps hitting that spot deep inside of her with his name on it. She’s properly crying out now, sinking her nails into his back as her neck stretches back. ‘There it isn’t it? M’there aren’t I?’ He manages against her neck.

She’s begging him now, not only for her own release but his too. How she wants to feel him when she leaves, how badly she needs him to fill her, needs the picture of him coming hard above her.

She’s needy for his lips on hers, moaning into his lips when she gets them. She’s desperately lifting her hips up to his, matching theirs to have him closer, deeper and he nearly chokes over his own breath.

‘Please!’ She cries wrapping her legs around him tighter, pulling him even closer towards her. When he gets close, so impossibly close, her for the second time he thinks sanely for just a moment about the new piece of furniture under them.

‘This is new.’ He groans. ‘Can’t come inside of you—without making a mess of it.’

‘M’not gonna have you for the next two weeks!’ She whines tightening her walls around him purposefully and he growls in her ear. ‘Since when have you cared about making a mess—’

‘You picked these out! Thought you’d care—’ He’s shaking now, needy for it.

‘I don’t!’ She cries. ‘Please!’

‘Shit!—’ He takes her right leg, places it over his shoulder and restarts his ruthless thrusts into her.

‘Fuck what’s yours.’ She whispers to him. His sloppy, jolted thrusts serve them both as she holds tightly to his back and his fingers are pressed so tightly into the skin of her hips.

Her name in short cut off whispers mix with growled out expletives as she starts coming around him. He’s winded, bound so tight as she’s nearly squeezing it all from him. He’s spilling hot and heavy into her, with one of his hands by her hair holding tightly to it and the other holding tightly to her leg wrapped around him.

She’s panting underneath him as he attempts calming his own breaths once he’s pulled out of her and as expected, they’ve left quite a mess.

‘Already miss you.’ He whispers. He straightens out the pout of her lips as she traces the water droplets that fall down his chest.

‘Don’t tell me what time it is.’ She buries her head into his chest.

‘Won’t,’ he pulls her up to him so he’s looking right at her. ‘We’re gonna lay out for a bit.’

She nods, realizes she should soak up as much as sun as she can. There are nothing but clouds back in London. They rest their eyes for a bit, go in and out of peaceful naps. He’s content then, pulls her as close as he can. Then he realizes that this is exactly what he’d pictured when he wanted them to get a house here.

He’s holding her tightly against him in the shower too, when they need to get the day started and have to get clean before. He’s already got his lips on her before any getting clean is done.

She falls into him as he washes her hair, humming contently as he does it for her. She smiles lazily as he lathers up the bubbles across her body, he loves touching her always. She likes pushing her hands through his hair too, trailing and traveling her hands over his strong body.

She doesn’t grasp what he’s doing until he’s on his knees in front of her. With a leg of hers draped over his shoulder and his tongue at her clit.

‘God—I—’ She wants to say, that at a pace like this she’s never going to make it onto this flight either. But he’s got his mouth around her clit, sucking hungrily against her. She’s wobbly, starts shaking as he continues his long and purposeful strokes against her. ‘Shit—keep doing that.’ She moans softly over the loud stream of water as he encourages her to ride his mouth as best as she can.

He wraps one arm around her waist to steady her as he takes his other hand between her legs. He’s needy for it, just as desperate to do this for her as she wants it. He looks up at her from between her thighs as he pushes two of his fingers in as her head falls back. His warm tongue, the way he’s tasting her, the direct strokes against her whilst his fingers press against the spot inside of her, the way he’s moving them inside of her doesn’t leave her many options. She’s coming onto his mouth not long after that with his name as barely there whispers rolling over her tongue.  

She doesn’t stop kissing him until they really do have to step out, get dressed and start the already short day together.

She pouts carrying her suitcase down the steps to his car outside. They have two or three hours to continue the search for more furniture pieces and agree on paint colors.

They should really be getting this stuff sorted and done but they’re out of it, not at all focused on the task at hand. He’s just holding tightly to her hand and she’s leaned into him as they browse mindlessly through the showroom.

‘This ones nice.’ She says and he nods. ‘Could be nice in the kitchen.’

‘Stay for today.’ He turns to her.

‘Damnit Harry.’ She sighs.

‘Please love.’ He whispers.

‘It isn’t gonna be easier tomorrow or the next day either.’

‘Don’t go tomorrow then either.’ He says and realized how impossible that is before he’d even said it. She shrugs defeatedly before looking back at the furniture on display because she’ll crumble if she looks at him for any longer.

Sitting across from each other when they go for lunch isn’t doable either. He doesn’t know what it is, how he’s physically incapable of being without her. So she moves her chair, sits next to him happily. She rests her head on his shoulder as they wait for their food, kissing his neck softly.

If the circumstances had been different maybe she would have stopped to marvel at the view of the ocean behind them and what a pretty and clear day it is. They’re both like this, have a hard time seeing anything good from the current situation. Because it doesn’t matter that he’s coming home to London in two weeks, or how after that she’ll be back here for his big night. They’re trying though, he tries telling himself those things, just two weeks, that’s how much longer but it’s harder than hard to think like that when she’s leaving.

And then somehow, by then it’s already nearly four and her flight is at seven. Harry doesn’t usually wish for heavy traffic, it being a pet peeve of his but this time he does. He’s holding her hand as he drives them both and suddenly it’s the time that Harry was trying to stall away from.

He walks with her into the airport until he can’t go any further. Until she’s got to go through security and board the plane home.

He grins, remembers what they had talked about last night. ‘Think about—’

‘Sucking you off in front of your mates, I know, I’ve got a good memory.’ She rolls her eyes taking her suitcase back from him when he’d offered to carry it.

‘Well when you say it like that sounds fuckin filthy.’ He mutters.

‘Isn’t it?’ She smirks. ‘S’why you want it so bad isn’t it?’ She pulls out her boarding pass and passport from her handbag to avoid holding up the line behind her.

‘Can’t do much showing off with a blender.’ He admits.

‘You could, you could make one hell of a smoothie.’ She grins.

‘I could I suppose.’ He plays along sarcastically.

‘Can’t say it’d taste as good as you do,’ she inches closer to him. ‘Or how good I do.’ She traces his jawline slowly. ‘You could try.’ She shrugs casually. She’s properly asking for it now and she’s not being fair to him one bit. Because she’s got to get on that plane and he’s gonna be left thinking about filthy things for the rest of the night.

‘Who keeps letting you talk like that?’ He covers her mouth. ‘Fucking Christ—watch your mouth.’

She can’t answer him with his hand on her mouth but for one, he likes it when she talks like that. Craves it too. He’s just plain bothered now, wants her again but this is the last flight tonight and she will yell at him if he makes her miss this one too.

She shifts her head to line her mouth with his fingertips, he catches on far too late when she wraps her lips around his index and middle. He glares at her, looks at her like she’s actually crazy. He presses his lips together tightly when he realizes that this is nearly what he’s asking from her for his birthday and the picture starts racing through his head. His stomach tightens when she begins sliding her lips across his fingers. Her lips wet, pretty pink gliding across. And he can’t do this right now, in the middle of a busy airport with people walking by them to stand in the line she has to start queuing in soon. He’ll lose it, he’s already bothered and already missing her.

‘Wanted this didn’t you?’ She whispers. ‘This is what you want from me…’

‘Get on the bloody plane,’ he reluctantly pulls his fingers away and she laughs before he grasps her jaw tightly. ‘Before I never let you leave.’

‘M’going m’going. Just wanted to tell you I love you first.’ She grins wrapping her arms around his neck and he wraps his arms tightly around her waist. ‘Come back to me quickly yeah?’ She buries herself into his neck. ‘Too many episodes of the bakeoff to watch alone, in a house much too big for just me.’

He nods, this bit is always hard. ‘Travel safe.’ He kisses her forehead and his lips linger there because they too, are having a hard time saying goodbye. ‘I’ll see you real soon, not much longer.’ He whispers before kissing her hard then shaking his head trying to avoid getting too sad about this. ‘I love you.’ He whispers. It’s always been like this and it’s going to keep being like this, they try not to get upset.

She finds her seat before reaching for her phone in her bag. ‘You win, like always. Happy early birthday. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Much better than a paper weight and a blender I’d say.’

Harry has already stepped into a late meeting when he gets the message. He grins widely at it, his stomach tightens again but he knows he can’t afford to think about this right now. He’s about to turn over his phone to get back to the meeting when it vibrates again. A blender is on their way to their home, should be delivered tomorrow at noon. He chuckles softly into his hand turning the phone over after sending her a message.

-M’not making you any smoothies.

You have to, m’blowing you in front of your friends. Start practicing your blending.

|| Yours To Take || [[smut]]

{summary: what happens when you catch the attention of a dangerous, mafia prince?}

[mafia au]

i’m supposed to be working on requests, but instead i’m working on this trashy au lmao **maniacal laughter, maniacal laughter**

this is very nsfw content, so if you as a reader are not comfortable with the warnings listed below, then i highly recommend that you don’t read this.

warnings: nudity , prositution , smut , riding bucky’s undeniably muscled thighs , and unprotected sex

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine.

——

Keep reading

Isn’t A Dream

Characters:  Dean x Reader x Sam

Summary:  No plot.  Literally zero.  This is straight up porn. With both Winchesters (no wincest).

Word Count:  2704

Warnings:  A whole lotta fuckin’.

Tags are at the bottom.  There is still room on my Forever Tag List, you can add yourself here.  Thanks!

Originally posted by mockingbbird

Isn’t A Dream

This isn’t a dream.

This is really happening.

Dean’s lips are soft and pliant against my willing mouth. Sam’s kisses skim the delicate skin below my earlobe, his hair dusting my collarbone.  

Sam’s mouth travels upward, his warm breath tickling when he whispers into my ear. “Do you trust us?”

My heart skips a beat but it knows the answer. The answer is yes. Implicitly. There isn’t a person alive or dead that I trust more than the Winchesters.

“Yes.” The word rolls of my tongue and vibrates against Dean’s mouth, which turns up into a sexy grin when he hears my answer, his green eyes sparkling.

Sam’s chuckle is throaty, rumbling in his chest. I tilt my head and turn to look at him and once again, I can’t believe this is really happening. Dean reaches up a finger and hooks it under my chin, directing my gaze back to his. Perhaps a competition for my affections is brewing. I can’t say the idea doesn’t thrill me.

“We’re going to take good care of you, (Y/N).” Dean says it like a promise with a hint of threat. It sends a wave of lust from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Sam reaffirms Dean’s promise. Sam loosens the knot on the tie at the base of his throat while Dean lifts the hem of my shirt. His hand caresses my skin as he works the shirt up and over my head.

Keep reading

The Little Brit, Part 2 | Jughead Jones x Reader

Originally posted by lodges-veronica

Originally posted by stydiaislove

  Part 1

I wake up, the smile’s still on my face from last nights encounter.

“(Y/N),” I hear mum shout from downstairs.

“I’m up,” I yell back stretching out my arms before throwing my covers off my body and heading down to greet my parents and grab something to eat. “Excited for your first day?” my mum asks putting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.

“Nervous. I met a few other kids in my year at the diner last night, they seemed really nice.” She clasps her hands together.

“Oh, sweetie that’s lovely!”

    I shrug hoping she was right finishing up with my breakfast before continuing to get ready for school. I was used to wearing a uniform back home so being able to wear whatever to school was a weird concept for me to grasp as I stand infront of my wardrobe, clothes littering my bedroom floor. I huff to myself glancing at the clock. 10 minutes before I have to start my walk to school and I’m nowhere near ready. 

“You okay sweetie?” my mum asks from my door. I nod throwing together and outfit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m going to head in early to get my timetable.“ She smiles hugging me briefly before bidding goodbye as she heads into work. I grab my bag and rush down the steps walking toward school. 

    As i get closer to the school I glance around to see other kids loitering out front, all in small groups, all seemed to be caught up in their own conversation to see me nervously wonder through trying to locate the front office. 

“(Y/N),” I turn to see Betty waving from across the hall weaving her way through the crowd till she reached me.

“Hey,” I smile warmly adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

“I’m actually showing you around today- I already got your schedule,“ I breathe a sigh of relief.

 “Thank you.” The bell rings loudly.

“I’ll walk you to your first class and then we can meet up at lunch. You can seat with me and the gang.” I smile. 

“Thank you so much.” She throws her arm around my shoulder and gives me a small squeeze.

“You’re very welcome!” 


    The lunch bells rings and I breathe a sigh of relief slipping my books into my bag and heading toward the school yard, my eyes scanning for Betty and Veronica. My palms grow sweaty as I struggle to find the blonde and raven haired girls, my heart rate starts to grow and I consider turning around and finding somewhere else to eat when someone whistles catching my attention.

“Little Brit!” I turn and see Veronica standing up from her seat waving me over. I smile and walk over sitting inbetween the two girls.

“Gosh i thought I was never going to find you guys!” I giggle. 

“How’s class been so far?” I nod noticing Archie, Jughead & an unfamiliar boy approach the table taking their seats.

“It’s actually been really good, easier than I thought- Besides the whole having to introduce yourself every lesson. I swear teachers do it just to torture us!“ I breathe out realising I was mumbling.“I’m thinking of trying out for a slot in the music class, I’ve heard that the music teacher here is really good. She does private classes? Isn’t that right Archie?” He chokes on his lunch and goes red in the face. The whole group looks at me with a shock expression.

“What?” I laugh innocently glancing over to Jughead who looks lost. “Miss Grundy told me she was helping you with songwriting, was I mistaking?” He clears his throat and shakes his head. 

“Oh, right, yeah, she’s been helping me a lot actually- with the song writing, yeah…” I laugh at his sudden change in mood. 

“Anyways I heard Betty that you run the “Blue & Gold”. I was wondering if I was able to help? I wrote back home for my school newsletter and I thought I could help you reboot the paper.“ She smiles.

“That would be awesome! Jug and I have been working a lot lately with the paper, right Jug?” We all turn to face him only for him to be staring right at me. I go red and Archie nudges Jughead with his elbow.

“Juggie,“ Betty pesters. He jolts upright fixing his beanie, his eyes darting to us all.

“Yo,” I laugh and look at the others. “Did you not hear anything Betty and I were saying?” He laughs awkwardly under his breath scratching the back of his neck.

“I swear I was listening I just-”

“Got lost in her voice,” Veronica teases making him go red.

“I just.. um… I have… um… you know what nevermind,“ he rambles pushing his food around the tray. 

“I was talking to Betty about the Blue & Gold.” He nods.

“Yeah we run it. You can… um… are you… did you want to help us?” he finally gets out looking toward me smiling sweetly.

“It’d be an honour Jug. I’d be more than happy to help you and B out.” He smiles. 

“Why don’t the three of us go to Pop’s after chool and talk more about the paper?“ I suggest. 

“Oh, I’m sorry but I have plans today,” Betty replies.

“Okay, maybe just me and you Jug?” He almost spits out the juice in his mouth glancing to Archie with wide eyes.

“Of course!” He almost shouts. “I mean, yeah, of course, I’ll bring my laptop and show you some stuff,” he tries to act cool adjusting his beanie and glancing past me. 

“Cool, it’s a date,“ I smile catching his gaze.

“It’s a date love,” he smiles back.

— Rosie🌹

12x20 Coda

“Spun out” doesn’t begin to describe it. This heaviness, this oppressive ache that is filling Dean’s lungs- it’s like nothing he’s ever felt.

He’s missed Cas before, sure. Lost him a time or two. Had every reason to believe the angel was dead (although he didn’t believe it, not really; he couldn’t bring himself to give credence to that thought- the very idea of accepting that Cas could be really and truly gone… permanently…) But this… this is different.

Dean abruptly shoves the phone he’s been staring at back into his pocket. There are no missed calls, no unseen text messages. He knows. He’s checked about once every two minutes for the past three days, ever since he came to on the cold, hard ground after Cas and his freaky display of surprise angelic power healed Dean and then knocked him unconscious on his ass.

Cas.

The feeling intensifies, spreads. It’s a burning now, a flaming vice squeezing around his heart, and between the pain in his chest and the pressure on his lungs Dean feels like he can’t breathe.

He can’t talk to Sam. He wishes he could. He wishes talking stuff out was a thing Dean Winchester was good at, was a thing he could do.

Their mom is now missing, and Dean knows that fucker Ketch is lying, and Cas- God, Cas is…

Dean paces the bunker kitchen, biting his thumbnail, his green eyes blazing. His fingers itch to grab a bottle of whiskey, something, hell, anything stronger than a beer… Even that wine he had yesterday with the Barnes family would do… he’d actually gotten downright tipsy, had forgotten wine packs a little more punch…  Dean’s mostly given up hard drinking since… well, when did he stop? He’s not sure.

That’s a lie. He is sure.

It was after Lucifer was expelled from Cas’s body.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, an “I’m done with the heavy drinking,” it was more of an unconscious response to losing his best friend (again) and then having him restored (again.)

Dean didn’t want to waste one second not being in full control of his faculties around Cas. He didn’t want his memories with Cas to be hazy, or blurry, or blacked out, because even though Cas was an angel, he wasn’t invincible. His continued existence wasn’t a guarantee, and Dean refused to be fuzzy on a single detail.

Dean has pretty much stuck to beer and a very light buzz after that (okay, that stupid Ketch thing was an exception… but really, for the most part, he’s been done with it.)

Sam’s voice shakes him out of his reverie. Dean hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

“Dean? What are you… are you okay?” Sam approaches him, concerned hazel eyes scanning his older brother. He reaches out a long arm to clasp Dean’s shoulder.

“’M'fine,” Dean brushes him off.

“Dude, you’re like, swaying on the spot. Are you drunk?” Sam presses, almost like he guessed Dean’s current train of thought.

Dean scowls. “No, I’m not drunk.”

The taller Winchester’s face softens, and for one hopeful second Dean thinks Sam might really understand. “You’re worried about Mom,” Sam guesses, and Dean sees Sam’s pain and fear written all over his face, too.

“It’s not that,” Dean shakes his head, then hastily corrects himself, eyes wide. “I mean, yes! God, of course yes. I’m worried. She can take care of herself, I know, but we need to find her. Stat.”

Realization dawns, but Sam hesitates. There is a long silence before he finally speaks again. “He can take care of himself, too, you know.”

Dean stiffens. “What?”

“Cas,” Sam says tentatively. “He can take care of himself, too, Dean. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you’re sure?” Dean snaps sarcastically. “Well, then. That’s a relief. If you’re sure, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Sam sighs, leaning against the counter of the bunker kitchen where they stand. He scrubs his hands over his face then pulls his shaggy hair back. His eyes are red-rimmed and tired; neither of them have slept since losing Tasha and Alicia and getting Mary’s cryptic voicemail.

“Talk to me,” he says finally.

Dean’s shoulders are tense; he wishes he had something to punch. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, so cut the crap, Dean.”

“It’s nothing you don’t already know! I already told you, Sammy, the guy who knocked us out and took off for Heaven, talking about- about faith and all that crap? That wasn’t Cas. Not really. So yeah, I’m gonna worry and you can just fucking deal with it.”

Sam doesn’t rise to the bait. “Talk to me for real. What’s going on?”

“What the fuck do you think I just did?”

“I think you’re trying to pick a fight,” Sam answers calmly. “You think I’m not worried about Cas, too? I am, Dean. He’s my friend.”

“He’s family,” Dean corrects.

Sam nods and mulls it over for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You think… you think that finding him, helping him… that it’s less important to me because of Mom?”

“What?” Dean responds hotly. “I never said that. It’s not about picking sides, Christ, Sammy! They’re both important. We’re gonna help them both. We’re gonna save them both.”

“I agree,” Sam says, and Dean nods, relieved. “But… Cas is different. Isn’t he.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but Dean knows he’s meant to respond.

“Yeah. He’s an angel,” Dean deflects bluntly, but Sam shakes his head.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Sam holds Dean’s gaze, unrelenting, and Dean catches a glimpse of fear, of vulnerability, of hope. Dean’s heart pounds. Maybe Sam is more perceptive that Dean’s given him credit for.  Maybe it is something Dean could talk to him about after all. “Talk to me,” Sam says once more, his voice gentle.

Dean’s mouth is dry. His heart is hammering painfully; he feels sick to his stomach. He wants to tell Sam, he needs to, it’s eating away at him… He draws in a shaky breath. “After… after Cas killed Billie… after he got stabbed with Michael’s lance… He- he said some things.”

“Yeah,” Sam says shrewdly. “He told you he loves you.”

Dean’s head whips up so fast he thinks he might have given himself whiplash. “He said he loves us all.”

Sam shrugs. “He does. I know that. But it’s different with the two of you.”

Dean stares at him, his face pale.

Sam frowns, confused. “Isn’t it?”

Dean lets out a strangled half-laugh. “Yeah. Yeah… it’s different.” Dean swallows hard, visibly uncomfortable. A dark flush is slowly creeping up his neck and he’s now staring at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. “After Billie… we- we slept together,” he admits, his voice low. “After Ramiel, too.”

“Dean,” Sam says softly, “That’s- that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“No,” Dean chokes out. “No. It’s not- it’s… I couldn’t say it back, Sam. He told me he loved me. Again, and again, when we were alone. He was so messed up. And I kissed him and I fucked him and I didn’t say it back…”

“But you do love him,” Sam presses questioningly.

“Of course I fucking do,” Dean hisses.

“Then why-”

“I don’t know, Sam!” Dean explodes. “Because I’m a fucking screwup. Because I’m a coward. Because I don’t fucking deserve him and I never have.”

There is silence for a moment. Sam crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for Dean to speak. When he doesn’t, Sam clears his throat, shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“I made him a mixtape.”

Sam blinks, surprised at the sudden turn in conversation. “You- what?”

“I couldn’t tell him. How I felt. How I- I feel. But I didn’t want him to think I was just using him, either. I made him a mixtape. I dunno, it was stupid. He tried to give it back. When he stole the Colt.”

Sam sighs. “Dean-”

“He doesn’t know, Sammy!” Dean’s voice breaks, and his bright green eyes are drowning in pain and regret and self-loathing as he finally looks at Sam. “I made him a mixtape because I couldn’t tell him the truth, and he doesn’t understand, and now he’s gone and he might- he might never know how I feel. He couldn’t stand to be around me anymore, that’s why he was always gone, always off doing his own thing… Why he went back to the angel-douches. He told me he was in love with me and I fucked it up and I drove him away and now… now he’s gone, and he doesn’t know…”

It’s the most vulnerable Sam has ever seen his older brother.

“What if this time he doesn’t come back?” Dean asks gruffly, and Sam can tell Dean- Dean! - is struggling not to cry.

“He’ll come back,” Sam reassures. “He always comes back.”

“Yeah,” Dean swallows. “Yeah. He does.”

“He loves you,” Sam reminds him, and Dean can feel his heart breaking open.

Cas, you son-of-a-bitch, Dean prays desperately. I love you too. I love you. Come back to me so I can tell you in person. I swear I’ll tell you every damn day for the rest of my life. Please come back. Please be okay.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says. “Let’s go find our family.”

Luxury Demesne (m) // Part 1

To be the best means you have to know the best, but what if you are the best?

Synopsis: Taehyung, your boyfriend and the once lavish heir, falls to an average status after losing every ounce of his wealth. Within that same scene, Jimin’s family name rises in the affluent sphere. Thing is, you never expected that your arranged marriage with your boyfriend would shift to your best friend, Jimin.

[cr.]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader x Jimin // Wealthy!AU, ArrangedMarriage!AU, ChildhoodFriend!AU + a love triangle

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive/Light Smut, Drama

Word Count: 8.7k

SERIES: Part 1 || Part 2

Includes: a little fingering

A/N: more like obnoxiousRichBastards!AU with dashes of satire. kiss kiss fall in money everybody // re-upload! i’ll have part two up after i look over it one last time :)


Everyone knows that money comes first over everything; well, in your world that is.

The world of flashing lights and shuttering cameras turning your way since you are the cynosure of attention, average citizens freezing up cold to the bone from a mere glance at your deluxe self or anyone you associate with. Your upscale family name circulates the world like wildfire, equivalent to the most polished of extravagant celebrity statuses.

It is given that your family is sitting close to the top of the notable social hierarchy, close proximity behind the Kims and the Jungs — the wealthiest of families who have the title of worldwide money bags; oh, and “crazy rich bastards.” With mellifluous voices and a luxuriant way with words, strikingly good looks as a cherry topper, they associate with their own kind: the sumptuous of it all. Of course, in your world, tying with the middle-class is a complete sin. The wealthy leisurely tosses thousands of dollars out daily for the sole purpose of making headlines and believe it is a heinous crime to wear the same outfit twice. People that fall under the category of “crazy rich” is also said to have an endless thread of luck.

Though, like everyone else, you can only press your luck too much.

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You Should Have Known (Smut)

Request: “smut. smut. smut. love em. (😂) maybe something with needy!Shawn, coming back from tour (like a really long time) and you meet him at his parents house, and the boy just wants to fuck you there, but you say that you can’t bc hey “we’re at your parents house Shawn!” but the lil pervert is so damn needy and he ended up fucking u in his teenage bedroom (a lot of doggy style pls, thanks!)❤” 

“and with the needy!Shawn request : thigh riding please!!! thank you so much!”

Oookay I had to put my own spin on this, mostly because these types of fics have been done before, but I hope you still like it. 

So uh, enjoy the ride.


The anticipation kills you as you make the final turns on the way to Shawn’s parent’s house. Aaliyah wanted to see him when he got back to Toronto and to be honest you weren’t going to argue with her. You figured once you guys were finished with dinner, you and Shawn would head home and catch up. Lots and lots of catch up. 

You think you’d be used to this by now, the extended periods of time away from each other, but you’re not. And while phone calls and FaceTime make things manageable, there was always that one element that was missing. Him

The giddiness inside you sparks up as you pull into the driveway. Finally. You take one final look at yourself in the rearview mirror before making your way out of the Jeep. You’re not even halfway up the yard when the front door swings open and you’re greeted by the sight of your boyfriend rushing towards you. Without missing a beat his lips find their way to yours as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. The familiar feeling of home washes over you as you stand there wrapped in each other. Eventually, you break the kiss and pull away to a dopey smile on his face and he takes in the sight of you.

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Secrets, Songs and Bad Habits

In which the reader and Jughead develop a strange dynamic.

A/N: My second fic and it’s awful, I thought practice made perfect? Apparently not but it doesn’t matter because I’m posting it anyways.

Warnings: Language, kissing and smoking (don’t do it kids it’s bad for you)


You were the new girl in town, the new addition to the river vixens and with an ass that made the entire football team want you and sass that made jaws drop. Jughead was the dark, brooding loner kid with more baggage than an airport and sarcasm that got him a one-way ticket to a black eye. Your paths could never intertwine, it was the rule and yet somehow you had both found yourselves wondering around the derelict building-site that was now The Twilight Drive-in. You casually leant against the scaffolding, a cigarette between your fingers and thick smoke escaping from your plump parted lips, unaware that somebody else was lurking around too.  

“That’ll kill you y’know,” a husky male voice came from behind you but you didn’t turn your head, simply rolled your eyes and continued to smoke leisurely.

“Wow, really? I had no idea, thanks random stranger now that you’ve told me that I’ll quit immediately,” you replied with sickly sweet sarcasm. The mysterious voice let out a low chuckle and the body to which it belonged stepped in front on you, illuminated by the lit end of the cigarette now between your lips. The boy stuck out his hand and introduced himself as “Jughead Pendleton Jones the Third” to which you scoffed but shook his hand nevertheless. You vaguely recognised him from the school hallways and from your English class.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“No,” you answered peering up at his tall frame but he just narrowed his eyes and glared back at you expectantly. “(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Well (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N) what are you doing here at two o’clock in the morning? Other than filling your lungs with tar that is.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come and explore this part of town,” you strode up to him and folded your arms across your chest in annoyance, tilting your head at an impossible angle so that you could glare back at him.

“I hope you’re aware that there is a killer on the loose, this is a rough part of town princess and that sarcasm can’t save you from a bullet,” he said in a hushed tone.

“I’m aware of that but I can take care of myself thanks!” you spat.

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Why?”

“You’re like three feet tall.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help your lips from curling into a small smirk. And then you realised the hypocrisy of the lean, beanie-clad boy before you.

“Hey, what are you doing here at two o’clock in the morning? For all I know you’re the killer in question,” you asked furrowing your brows and poking him in the chest with a perfectly manicured nail.

It was his turn to smirk and he told you that you were right, he could be the killer but he promised you that he wasn’t. you held out your pinkie and told him to pinkie promise that he wasn’t and he simply linked his pinkie with yours in response. You smiled widely.

“So Jughead Pendleton Jones the Third,” you mimicked his voice when you said his name and you could have sworn that he almost smiled, “what’s with the crown beanie and the whole angsty look?”

“I won’t be judged on my appearance by the girl in an oversized hoodie, no pants and…ugg boots.” He retorted with a breathy laugh.

“Hey these are my pyjamas, not my everyday attire. If you see me in school, I’ll be wearing heels and skirts and crop tops thank you very much!” you shrieked and flipped your hair. You continued to bicker and chat with him until you had reached the end of your smoke. You threw the butt on the ground and stepped on it before turning to leave. As you walked away from him you briefly turned your head to mutter a quick “see ya” only to see him jogging to catch up with you.

“Stalking me now Jones?”

“Like I said (Y/L/N) there’s a killer on the loose, I can’t let an unarmed dwarf wander the streets all by herself, now can I?”

You huffed but allowed him to walk beside you to your suburban home. Once you reached your driveway, you beckoned Jughead to follow you around to the side of your house. Confused, he followed you.

“Give me a leg-up?” you asked him, doe eyes silently pleading. He simply rolled his eyes but kneeled down and clasped his hands together nevertheless. You quietly squealed in delight and stepped onto his hands, hoisting yourself up onto the flat roof of your garage. From there you tiptoed over to your window and slid up your window. Just before clambering inside you turned back to your new friend.

“Thanks, see you around Jughead,” and with that you climbed through the opening and closed the window.

Jughead watched as you clambered into your bed and snuggled down. He began to walk away with a smile on his face paired with the strong feeling that you would not in fact see him around. You were from a different world, a world with a best friend named Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle and the like hot on your heels.

The following day at school, as you were talking to Reggie, you noticed Jughead stood by the lockers talking to a ginger haired jock and two of your fellow Vixens; one with short dark hair and the other with a tight blonde ponytail. You caught his eye and shot him a wave to which he swallowed dryly and shook his head slightly. You furrowed your brows and turned back to Reggie, confused and annoyed that he seemed like he didn’t want to know you. That is why you were so surprised when that night, as you climbed out of your window and off of your roof, you were met with a nonchalantly awaiting Jughead.  

“Oh, so you won’t acknowledge me at school but you think its okay to turn up at my house in the middle of the night?” you were royally miffed.

“Yeah…no princess, I will accompany you to and from the drive-in so that you don’t get murdered. If I didn’t I would be a total ass. But other than that we don’t know each other, people like you and people like me don’t fraternise in the real world.”

“So this, right now isn’t the real world Jughead?”

“Nope.”

“Okay then…did you just come here to argue with me or are you going to walk me.”

He didn’t answer, he just started to walk and you followed. Over the next few weeks this continues. Every night at two o’clock you would meet Jughead outside your house and you would walk. Sometimes to the drive-in and sometimes just around town, exploring. He would talk and you would smoke and then you would go home. You liked his company, his wit and his sarcasm and he loved your fiery nature and flirtatious gestures, he adored the way that you were always completely confident in yourself. Despite this, at school, he would ignore you and you would reluctantly do the same. Neither of you realised that you both stole secretive glances at each other.

It was five minutes until the vixens were due to perform with The Pussycats and Josie’s voice had completely gone. In its place was a scratchy whisper, courtesy of a throat infection. Cheryl was freaking out. Who was going to sing? How would we perform without a singer to sing our song? How will Valerie and the drummer do it without a lead singer? Then the redheaded girl snapped her head to face you, the memory of you drunkenly singing at one of her infamous soirees suddenly invading her thoughts.

“(Y/N) you have to go up there!”

“…and say what exactly Cher?”

“Not say, sing, you know the song, we’ve been practicing it for the routines.”

“I can’t what about Josie, what about the routine?”

“Can you not sing and dance?”

“…yeah  okay…but what about Josie….”you were cut off by the pussycat herself.

“Oh hunny you’d be doing me a favour, I don’t wanna be known as the leader of a group that lets people down now can I?”

“Okay fine, I’ll do it but if I flop then don’t blame me, I’m not a singer.”

Cheryl beamed and ushered you onto the stage at the edge of the football field, following closely behind. She scurried over to the mayor, whispering something in her ear and pointing over to Josie who was desperately slurping at a bottle of foul-smelling cough syrup. The mayor nodded, sighed and then plastered a smile on her face before stepping towards the microphone and addressing the swarms of people in the stands.

“Riverdale, a town of pep has never been a more accurate term for our wonderful town,” as she spoke the marching band paraded and Cheryl had joined the rest of the Vixens that had assembled, pom-poms at the ready. She turned around to give you an encouraging smile and then turned back to face the crowd with a pout. “I am proud introduce our very own River Vixens who will be performing with Valerie Brown, Melody Valentine and newcomer (Y/N) (Y/L/N) who will be filling in for my lovely daughter.”

After sharing some confused glances, the audience cheered and you plastered false confidence on your face before picking up the mic. The music began and you took in a deep breath preparing for your impending embarrassment.

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’m talkin’ to ya

See you standing over there with your body

You pointed your finger to the audience and wiggled it seductively before circling your hips and dropping to the ground, springing back up.

Feeling like I wanna rock with your body

And we don’t gotta think ‘bout nothin’

I’m comin’ at ya

You spotted Jughead in the crowd, he gazing at you intently and you flushed under his stare, biting your lip and tearing away so that you could continue undistracted.

'Cause I know you got a bad reputation

Doesn’t matter, 'cause you give me temptation

And we don’t gotta think 'bout nothin’

These friends keep talkin’ way too much

Say I should give you up

Can’t hear them no, 'cause I

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

Been tryna hide it

Baby what’s it gonna hurt if they don’t know?

Makin’ everybody think that we solo

Just as long as you know you got me

And boy I got ya

'Cause tonight I’m making deals with the devil

And I know it’s gonna get me in trouble

Just as long as you know you got me

 

These friends keep talkin’ way too much

Say I should give you up

Can’t hear them no, 'cause

 

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

I’ve been here all night

I’ve been here all day

And boy, got me walkin’ side to side

You finished breathless and attempted to courtesy in your skimpy cheer uniform before hopping down the steps beside the stage. You ran towards Cheryl and the Bulldogs that had now run onto the field. She hugged you and squealed her praise. You spotted Jughead over her shoulder but chose to ignore him, that is what he wanted after all. As you made your way through the boys you were wolf-whistled and sloppily hugged until you felt your feet leave the ground. You squealed in confusion and shock until your captor turned you around in his arms and you were met with the face of Reggie.

“You’re one hell of a performer Dollface,” he yelled spinning you around and holding you tightly as you shrieked and laughed. You leant down and pulled him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek.

“Thanks Reg, now it’s your turn, go get ‘em tiger!” he hugged you once more before planting your feet on the ground, squeezing your ass cheekily and jogging off to start the game as you were left giggling at his boyish antics.

It was then that you felt the all-too-familiar craving for a cigarette so you meandered your way behind the bleachers. You fumbled with your pocket, trying to prise out your packet and lighter and not concentrating on where you were going. You bumped into something tall and dark. You looked up to find that the thing was in fact a Jughead. A very pissed off looking Jughead.

“Shit sorry Juggie!” you squealed through a giggle, still in the midst of the rush from perfroming, He just huffed out an exasperated sigh and turned to walk off. “Jug?”

No response.

“Jughead?” he continued to storm away from you. “Jughead Jones the Third don’t fucking ignore me, where are you going?”

“Sorry I forgot I had to check in with the singing dwarf” he muttered bitterly, whirling around to face your direction. Your brows furrowed and (Y/E/C) orbs widened at him in shock and confusion, clearly waiting for an answer. “Reggie, (Y/N) are you serious, why are you even talking to him let alone allowing him to touch you?”

You were silent for a moment as your anger towards the boy bubbled inside you before spilling over and scalding everything in its path. You couldn’t believe that Jughead was trying to control you like this, he wouldn’t speak to you in school so why did he get to dictate how you behaved around your friends.

“Are you fucking kidding me Jones?” you shrieked, lunging towards him and shoving your tiny palms against his slender chest. “You don’t want to know me at school and yet now you think it’s cool for you to criticise my choice in friends?”

“Hmm gee princess I thought you were smarter than that.”

“What are you talking about asshole?”

“Well I think your friend Reggie has a little more than friendship on his mind.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you Jones.” You retorted, scoffing. You stood on your tiptoes and peered up at him, faces mere inches apart. He leaned impossibly closer so that your noses brushed and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. With that you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, blowing the smoke into his face and striding away defiantly leaving him stood bewildered, guilty and alone.

It was two in the morning and you were lying on your bed clad in your underwear and a large hoodie when you an incessant knocking on your curtain-covered window could be heard. Curiously you strode over and yanked open the blinds to be met with the face of a sheepish beanie-wearing boy. You rolled your eyes and exasperatedly unlatched your window and pushed it up with a huff.

“Grovelling isn’t going to work Jug just piss off,”you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“(Y/N)…please…” you huffed in annoyance but made no effort to dismiss him. “Can I please come in before I fall?”

“No.”

“Okay…can you come down then?”

“I don’t have any shoes.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“Fine.”

He smirked triumphantly but immediately returned sheepish when he saw you pouting in annoyance. He clambered down and waited with open arms on the grass beside your house as you lowered yourself into his grasp. He turned you around so that your legs wrapped around his waist and he could rest your back against the wall. You huffed at the position but made no effort to move as the grass was damp and muddy.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead whispered. “I was jealous and stupid and I’m sorry. I mean, you infuriate me and you’re so fucking sexy that it’s really distracting…. up there on that stage you were incredible…and even your bad habits drive me crazy… I can’t write anything because all i can think about is your lips on mine instead of the end of a cigarette. I can’t concentrate around you and It’s driving me insane because I need you but I can’t have you.”

You bit your lip at his babbled, whispered confession, realising exactly what he meant. He liked you. You saw his eyes flit from your lips and then back and you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You leaned in and brushed your nose against his, looking up at him with doe eyes and batting your thick lashes. His chest heaved against  you with each laboured breath and you brought your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through the raven hair at the nape, eliciting goosebumps on his olive skin. You became aware of the feeling of his large hands that were holding your bare thighs, fuelling the heat that was spreading over your body.

“Juggie.” you leaned in so that your lips were almost touching and he could feel your whisper tickling his cupids bow.

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m here, nobody else and I want you, nobody else, I have since we first met. You’re such a sarcastic ass sometimes and you’re angsty and brooding but you have the biggest heart and I love that about you. You literally met me, a virtual stranger and took it upon yourself to see that I made it safely to and from my house every night. That’s completely mental. Nobody else would do that for me, Jug.” 

“Wow Princess, you made me sound like a real catch, no wonder you’re totally in love with me.” he answered cockily, a lopsided smirk gracing his delicate features.

“Don’t flatter yourself Jones, need I remind you who it was that came here to grovel?” you replied, raising an eyebrow and mimicking his smirk then you bit your lip once more and beckoned him closer with your eyes and crashed your lips to his. He kissed back, tentatively at first until you ground your hips into his making it abundantly clear that you needed more. He gripped your thighs tighter and moaned into your mouth which allowed you to slip in your tongue. He pulled you flush against him, needing to hold you as close as possible before reluctantly pulling away.

“What about everyone else, what about school, Reggie?” he asked breathlessly, becoming serious once more so you kissed him again, tongue sliding between his lips slowly and sensually.

“They’re not here Juggie, it’s just you and me.”

I want to remember...

Summary: What if you wake up and can remember enough of what happened the night before to know that everything has changed, but still don’t know who made the first move? (just a little friends to lovers sexy times for your Saturday) AO3


She wakes up to the usual sounds of squealing brakes followed by impatient horn blasts, security gates rattling in their journey upwards, murmurs of cell phone calls and the occasional bark of a too small dog. The noises of the city around her never seem to change, even on a morning that feels like it should be different. She presses at the base of her neck to see if the skin there is raised, fingertips tracing the same pattern as his lips, his tongue, the coarse hairs of his chin. Scrunching her eyes ever more tightly closed, she tries to add clarity to images threatening to disappear as consciousness fights with the fog of drunken mistakes.

Was it a mistake the way his mouth felt against hers, the weight of his hands on her skin or the possessive feel of his fingers anchored in her hair. Did he not mean the words he breathed between her lips between soul deep kisses?

“Finally…I’ve always wanted…Emma…”

She knows the truth of hers.

“Me too…”

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An Infinity of Yes

I don’t have a lot of time this morning and I really shouldn’t be writing this, but…

I’m still happy!  And as is my way, I had to write about it.  So, a moment away from the angst to celebrate the momentousness of a yes.  For the nonnie who requested a little celebratory smut…

Cause I don’t know if you ya’ll knew or now, but Emma Swan and Killian Jones are engaged!

Originally posted by captainswanouat

Under the cut for the normal, smutty reasons…

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Problem Solved

also on ao3 !

Jeremy has a problem. A huge one. One that consists of a red hoodie and dark perfectly tousled hair and pretty eyes and -

And he’s getting off topic now. He needs to… chill. Okay, no, he just needs to stay calm and think it all thoroughly. He’s probably just been watching too many romance-based porn videos lately or something. Yeah, that’s it. Totally.

Jeremy grips the strap of his backpack tighter as he gets closer to the cafeteria. He needs to push these thoughts to the back of his mind before he sees him. Him who has been practically the only thing on his mind lately. Him with his stupid perfect grin and stupid nice long fingers that would look perfect with his intertwined in them and -

Jesus Christ, this really is becoming a huge problem. He’s got to stop thinking about this before he meets up with him because then his face will automatically go completely red and he’ll ask, “Jeremy, buddy, what’s got you all red?” and how exactly would he respond to that? Spill everything? Lie to him? He couldn’t do that, either of them.

Okay, he’s here, the cafeteria. No more thinking, just…

“Jeremy, buddy! What’s up?” Michael says as he throws an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. He gestures wildly with a cup of slushie and Jeremy is seriously worried there’s going to be red slush everywhere soon. “You totally missed it, man, all last night I was working on that level I’ve been stuck on for forever — you know what I’m talking about? (Jeremy nods because of course he does) — and then just when I was gonna give up, I tried one last time and I did it! Beat it without breaking a sweat, sorta anyway…”

Michael continues on about the details of how he finally accomplished success and Jeremy just watches him. He notices the way Michael is still enthusiastically moving the hand holding his slushie while his arm is still slung across his shoulders, other hand gripping lightly at Jeremy’s sweater. He can feel a blush coming from that. They continue walking to their usual table and sit down, Michael’s arm going to rest on the table instead of Jeremy’s shoulders. He frowns slightly at that.

That’s also when he remembers that he was supposed to be listening to Michael talking the entire time. Damn him and his runaway thoughts, but can you blame him? He could watch Michael talk for forever and only be focused on the way his eyes sparkle or the way he can notice a few faint freckles here and there.

“Earth to Jeremy! Hello!”

Jeremy is brought back from his thoughts as Michael waves a hand in front of his face.

“You spacing out on me? Rude. Am I really that boring?” Michael jokes.

Jeremy blushes and says quickly, “Dude, no! I was just thinking…”

“What about?”

Jeremy blushes again and looks away as he starts fiddling with his hands. “Uh…nothing interesting. Don’t worry about it.” Why can’t he be calm and cool about it all? Better yet, why can’t he just stop thinking all these things about Michael?

Maybe he doesn’t want to stop, though.

“Whatever, dude. Hey, you want anything from the line? I think they got fries today. The good kind.” Michael says as he starts standing up.

Jeremy nods and goes to follow him. He stops, though, when Michael puts out a hand and starts backing away towards the food line with an “Allow me, Jer-bear.”

Michael shoots him a wide grin when he sees Jeremy blushing lightly at the nickname before he turns around and walks off. Jeremy blushes harder at the grin aimed at him and finds himself frustrated at himself. Michael has smiled and grinned at him a million times, so why is he getting all worked up over them now? Why do feelings about people have to change so much? He groans and lays his head on the lunch table.

He has got to stop thinking about Michael like this.

__________

They’re hanging out at Michael’s now, school having ended about an hour ago. Michael is currently intensely focused on Donkey Kong 64, the vintage clear controller clasped tightly in his hands. They had been playing Mario Kart 64 together earlier before Jeremy had said that he wanted to take a break. Now he’s just leaning back on his bean bag as he watches the TV screen. Well, he at least looks like he’s watching when in truth he’s not paying attention at all. He’s thinking. Again.

He’s thinking about the way the light from the screen causes shadows to play across Michael’s face. He’s thinking about Michael’s focused stare and the fact that his tongue is peeking out from his lips and oh, man, he shouldn’t be thinking about that. Then he’ll start thinking about kissing and making out and… more. Would…

Would Michael ever want to kiss him?

Maybe he’ll only ever feel platonic things towards him. Or maybe Jeremy just isn’t attractive enough? Or confident or cool or…

Jeremy sighs and slips further down on his bean bag. This causes Michael to pause the game and turn towards him.

“Seriously, buddy, what’s up? Something’s been bugging you lately and I’m starting to get a little worried. So, what’s wrong?”

Dammit, he never meant to worry him. He didn’t know he had been so obvious about the fact that something has been bothering him. He runs a hand through his hair and starts, “Well, it’s just…”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, like… there’s this, uh, person? That I like and…”

“Dude, chill, is this about Christine? I know you have a crush on her.”

Jeremy sputters, “No, no, I don’t, uh, have a crush on her! It’s… someone else.”

“You don’t? Okay, then who is she? Come on, you gotta tell me.”

“Well… it’s not exactly a… you shouldn’t use…” Jeremy tries until he finally just practically shouts, “They’re not a girl!” He blushes deeply and covers his face with his hands. “That’s all I’m gonna say.”

He doesn’t hear anything for a minute or two until there’s quiet shuffling of Michael moving on his bean bag. He didn’t realize that he was moving in front of him until he felt hands on his wrists, tugging gently. Jeremy moves his hands away but refuses to look Michael in the eye.

“Jeremy, is that what’s been bothering you so much? Did you think I wouldn’t, like, approve or something? Jeremy, buddy, nothing could stop us from being friends! I’ll support whoever you wanna date, girl or boy.”

Jeremy looks at him at the last bit and swears he can see something there. Something like… hope?

He must be imagining things.

Michael smiles softly at him when they make eye contact. Even though the room is lit up only by the TV, Jeremy could still point out every feature of his face, from the edges of his soft lips to his few freckles. He also realizes that Michael is still holding onto his thin wrists and that at this point they’re just staring at each other and smiling gently. They’re so close now that he can feel Michael’s warm breath and see that his lips are parted just slightly…

His breath hitches as he leans closer, closer, and then…

He’s kissing him.

Jeremy Heere is kissing his best friend of 12 years, Michael Mell.

Holy. Shit.

His lips are soft and everything he imagined they’d be and more. His thoughts have finally stopped and stay that way even when he’s pulling back. He’s blushing so hard as he looks at Michael who’s grinning widely, a blush dusting his cheeks as well.

He figures that it’s safe to say Michael won’t ever only feel platonic things towards him.

I’ll Do It All Again (1/6)

Title: I’ll Do It All Again
Pairing: Steve x Bucky
Word count: 832
Rating: PG
Warnings: none

I don’t even know what to say. It’s another drabble series. And I have screamed my way through writing it, because writing Stucky intimidates the fuck out of me. General inspiration and chapter titles from Fall Out Boy’s “The Kids Aren’t Alright”. This series will have six parts all in all, they’re all written out and I’ll post one part per day. A huge thanks to @ursulaismymiddlename and @mrshopkirk who have kindly listened to me scream and whine and offered support and encouragement.

Tag list can be found under the cut, and if you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask. 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI


I. Fall To Your Knees, Bring The Rapture

1929

Sarah Rogers may be Irish, but she hasn’t been the best catholic of late. Too often, her Sundays have been spent by her son’s side, dabbing a wet cloth against his forehead, his mouth moving as if speaking but no words come out. The women in the congregations would probably say her boy is near death, that he’s talking to the angels and saints coming to claim his soul. They’d arrange their features into expressions of pity and well-meaning concern, and maybe that’s another reason Sarah has not felt too guilty about missing mass.

Steve is not dying. He’s not. It’s a mantra she keeps repeating to herself with every bout of flu, every hitch in the boy’s breath when he overexerts himself until it becomes a learned response whenever Steve looks even the slightest bit tired. They have very little by means of worldly possessions and wealth, but to Sarah Rogers, her son is more precious than any riches that could be thrown their way.

It’s winter, and the cold air and tempestuous weather has Steve bedridden again, coughing and fighting against a fever that night after night refuses to break. Sarah is on her last ounce of energy when a timid knock on their door pulls her from the despair. She’s got an apology ready on her tongue, expecting one of the neighbours to complain about Stevie’s cough being to loud, and she’s not sure why she’s even surprised when it’s her son’s constant companion standing outside, hands clasped in front of him and looking up at her expectantly.

“Hi, mrs. Rogers,” he greets, always so polite and charming, and it tugs at something in Sarah’s heart.

“Bucky, I’m sorry, Steve can’t come out today…” she starts, smoothing back her hair and straightening out her clothes.

“No, mrs. Rogers, I know, I have his homework, and I thought maybe I could keep him company for a while?”

Sarah sighs. The two boys have been inseparable ever since finding each other in the school yard when Steve started first grade. Sometimes it hurts to see just how much of her late husband she can see in her son. He’s got most of her looks, but the temperament and the penchant for getting into trouble… That’s all Joseph.

“Just a little while, Bucky. Your ma won’t be happy if you get sick.”

“Promise! Thank you, mrs. Rogers!”

And with that, Bucky bounds through the tiny apartment, his backpack bouncing against his back. The door to Stevie’s room opens and closes soon after, and for the first time in hours, Sarah feels like she can breathe. Maybe it’s wrong to rely on a child to keep an eye on her son, but she’ll take what she can get. Backing up, she leans against the kitchen counter, quietly counting her breaths, taking stock of her own well-being.  She could do with more sleep, more food, more… everything. But they are doing okay, under the circumstances. And Steve will get better. She repeats it quietly to herself just to be sure before setting about making dinner.

By the time she’s done, the boys are still holed up in Steve’s room, and Sarah’s about ready to send Bucky back home, fearing that the boy might fall ill. Her steps are soft and near-silent when she approaches the door. Even though it’s closed, she can hear Bucky’s animated voice.

“Daddy said they gonna start building next year. Tallest building in the world, can you believe it, Stevie!”

If Steve replies, it’s too weak to carry through the door.

“Maybe when you get better, we can go look at it! Daddy said he’d be working, I’m gonna ask him if we can go up on the beams and look out over the city. Betcha we could see all the way home.”

In that moment, Sarah Rogers has never envied someone as much as she envies Bucky Barnes. Much as she doesn’t want to, she lives in a constant state of “if” when it comes to Steve. “If” does not exist for Bucky, everything is “when”. Sniffing, Sarah knocks on the door, and within five minutes, the Barnes boy has said his goodbye, promising to come back tomorrow with more homework and more stories.

Maybe Sarah Rogers has not been the best catholic as of late, but that night, she falls to her knees by her bed, praying with all of her heart for her son to get better, to live, to survive. She promises her life to the saints in exchange for her son’s health, swears that he’ll grow up good and strong if only God will be merciful and spare him this one time.

Bucky keeps visiting. Three days after her desperate prayer, she hears Steve laugh at something Bucky said, and that night, the fever finally breaks. Sarah Rogers is on her knees again that night, thanking God and his angels and the saints for their mercy.


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Bloom (1/?)

This has been a work in progress for quite some time. It started as a response to the fact that OUAT seemingly cannot have a normal pregnancy on this show without it being traumatic or otherwise very sad. This is the result. This series will be following the arc of Emma’s totally normal, only lightly angsty pregnancy that will end 100% happy. That is my guarantee. No prophecies. No speeding up. A super normal pregnancy.

As for the timing of posting this…well, we could all use some fluff, and I’m not letting reality get me down. So, presenting, “The Happiest Pregnancy Ever”

Also on A03.

Why should I be unhappy? Every parcel of my being is in full bloom.
-Rumi

Emma tapped her fingers on the table, her nails clack-clack-clacking on the wood with each downward press. She listened to the steady tick-tock of the clock, understanding with sudden clarity why Barrie had one haunt his interpretation of her husband. 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Her husband wasn’t home. He was at store working his way down the list of things she’d hastily scribbled before he walked out the door. The list was long, and she didn’t really need half the things she sent him to buy, but she needed him gone, not anywhere near her while she processed the impending changes to their life. He would be home soon, which meant that she had to decide just what course of action to take.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The house was quiet. Whenever Henry stayed with Regina, there was a certain stillness to their home. Even when he was there, he opted to listen to music via headphones. He was teenager, meaning he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. She liked the quiet, sometimes. Other times, not so much. It reminded Emma of her time as the Dark One – the house barren, dead. 

It won’t be like that much longer.

Emma fingered the stick in front of her. It read “pregnant” in small letters. She sprung for the test that said pregnant or not pregnant. She didn’t want to take any chances with lines or ink. It was clear as day that way. No mistakes.

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