i got overwhelmed by his hair i guess

Babyface. {DeanxReader Part: 2}

Summary: A continuation to this fanfic, 




You were the last to leave the arena the night of a heavy storm. Majority of the make-up department had bolted minutes after the show ended to avoid driving in the rain. To your misfortune, Leslie forgot to leave you the key to the rental car and it was far too late to schedule a new ride.

You huddled under the venue awning as the rain streamed around it. Clutching onto your suitcase to prevent it from blowing with the rapid wind, you use your free hand to check for an available uber or taxi on your phone. However, with the harsh weather conditions it looked unfortunate for you.

Lightning suddenly strikes through the air followed by a roaring rumble that startles your balance. You faintly curse to yourself as you frantically collect your belongings and hurry back inside of the venue.

Your eyes are glued to your phone when he spots you from the corridor. He notices your hair a bit damp and your jacket coated with spots from the rain.

He clears his throat, throwing his backpack over his shoulder as he makes his way towards you. “(Y/N)..?”

You pluck your attention away from your phone as you turn towards the raspy voice, the knot in your stomach slowly forming. “Dean, Hi!”

His matted curls reflect off his forehead as he cocks his head to the side. “What’re you still doing here?”

Sighing, you refresh the uber app on your phone in hopes of any availability of a driver. “Leslie rode with Stephanie and took my rental key with her. I’m hoping to get an uber within the next hour.”

Scoffing, Dean grasps your suitcase and juts his chin toward the door. “C'mon.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, a little dumbfounded.

He’s halfway out the door while rolling your luggage behind him. “Let’s go, kid. I don’t wanna hit traffic.”

It takes you a moment to comprehend what is occurring and the pit in your stomach begins to fasten when he’s holding the door open for you.

You follow Dean out to the awning where he pauses when he’s aware of the rain pouring rapidly.

He turns to you, sliding his backpack off and placing it beside your feet, chuckling at your dingy Sk8-Hi top vans.

“M'gonna go get the car, stay put.” He states, throwing his hoodie over his head before jogging down the parking lot.

You stand there awkwardly, intellectually attempting to tame all the swift thoughts in your head. It’s not long until he’s pulling the car in front of you, drawing you away from your mental diary. You go to gather up the bags only to be stopped by Dean.

“Nah, I got it. Go warm up in the car.” He says, taking your suitcase and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

You were about to thank him until another voice echoed from the parking lot.

“Dean, hey! Wait up man!” Seth calls jogging through the pouring shower.

“What’s so important that you needed to Baywatch through a storm? Couldn’t you have texted me?” Dean chuckles.

Seth immediately scoffs, unaware of your presence as you keep hidden behind Dean’s larger figure. “You barely know how to work a phone, don’t kid yourself.”

It’s when Dean shrugs his shoulders that Seth finds a glance of your appearance, slightly embarrassed that he assumed he interrupted a moment between you and Dean. “Oh, hey (Y/N). Didn’t expect to see ya there.”

You give him a slight smile, feeling a bit awkward.

Seth turns to Dean, mumbling “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?” In hopes of it being a faint whisper but you’re aware of the words even with the rain becoming heavier.

Dean shakes his curls, clearing his throat to cut the tension. “Nah, just giving the kid a ride home. Didn’t want her stranded here.” He says, before nudging Seth. “What’s up though?”

Seth gives you and Dean an uncertain look, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Just, uh, wanted to see if we were still up for the gym tomorrow.”

Dean nods, giving Seth a pat to the shoulder. “Yeah man, of course.”

“Great! Well you guys have a goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow man.” Seth asserts before politely excusing himself back to his car.

Dean’s attention turns back towards you as another struck of lightning appears through the sky. “C'mon, before the rain gets any worse.”



“So.” Seth grunts, benching a weight against his chest as Dean spots above him. “Did she give you a ride?”

Dean scoffs, peering down at his sweaty friend. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Seth continues pressing the weights to his chest not phased by Dean’s dismal. “(Y/N).”

“What about her?” Dean questions.

Another grunt escapes from Seth’s lips while he lifts the metal bar up and down in a routine. “Listen, she’s cute there’s no argument there but you need to be careful.”

Dean’s hands hoist the bar back onto the plate holder. “What are you getting at Seth?”

“Look, when you were graduating high school, she was celebrating her 8th birthday.” He says sternly, catching Dean completely off guard.

Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. You think I’m trying to nail the kid?” He spits.

Seth throws his hands up defensively, refusing to stir the pot. “As your friend, I’m telling you people talk around here.”

“And? What if I was interested in her? What are they going to do? Do a shoot interview about me?” Dean says, clearly annoyed at this point.

“I’m just saying man,” Seth begins calmly. “It just doesn’t look right. A 20 year old girl dating a 31 year old guy. How do you think the media would see it? Let alone if management found out, you’d be pulled from live shows immediately. Not to mention meet and greets, signings, press con-”

“Okay, I get it.” Dean cuts his friend off, irritated by all the possibilities of what could happen to his career.

“I’m just trying to look out for you.” Seth objects, going back to his routine.

Dean sat there momentarily shaming himself for even thinking about possibly asking a girl on a date. He excuses himself from the facility, mentioning to Seth he was going to hit the showers.

He surged down the hallway, avoiding anyone in sight as they were possibility already gossiping about his encounter with a girl half his age. It’s when he hears the delicate voice from behind him that stops him in his path.

Your sneakers scuffed against the pavement as you caught up to Dean, a little out of breath as he was walking at a fast pace. “I just wanted to thank you for yesterday.” You begin, smiling through a breathy statement.

He nods his head with no words followed, goggling his eyes at anyone looking insight.

“I mean, it’s not everyday that a guy takes care of you when you’re drunk and offers you a ride to your hotel the next day.” You smile, blabbering on.

He’s mentally praying that no one is looking longer than a glance. “Yeah, well, maybe it’ll be a reoccurring thing when find a guy your own age.” He states bluntly, avoiding eye contact with you.

His clear expression leaves a slight sting to your esteem and you try your hardest to dismiss it. “Right. Well, I was thinking maybe we cou-”

We?” He snaps, finally making eye contact with you.

His sudden cold shoulder recoils your stance, and you immediately want to dig yourself a hole to crawl into.

“Listen, kid.” He says harshly, a little overwhelmed by longing stares from a few divas and talent agents. “Maybe, you took my kindness out of context but, I’m not interested. There’s plenty of guys down in the rookie playpen though.”

You roll your lips between your teeth, pressing down unpleasantly as you hold back a few tears.

You mentally beg yourself not to cry, not to make an even bigger fool in front of him.

You clear your throat awkwardly, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Right, I-uh, I guess I got a little ahead of myself.” You mutter. “I apologize.”

Dean nods in acceptance, trying his hardest to not apologize for being an asshole as people were still staring at the two of you. “Glad we’re on the same page, I’ll see ya around kid.”



title: skinny love
pairing: sasusaku
summary: Post 699.  It is a quiet love that blooms between them. It is a love shared between trivial conversations, and passing intimacies. It is a love expressed through gentle stares, and timid blushes. It is an unspoken bond, tied up in history, and it is a secret that everybody knows about. Slightly AU.
rating: M


skinny love (n.) – when two people love each other very much, and are too shy to admit it, but they still show it


It is a quiet love that blooms between them. It is a love shared between trivial conversations, and passing intimacies. It is a love expressed through gentle stares, and timid blushes. It is an unspoken bond, tied up in history, and it is a secret that everybody knows about.

Their (finally) getting together is nothing explicit, or blatant—but it is not fleeting. It is saccharine, and concrete. It is not unlike a child falling in love for the first time. The love they share is the love that is spoken about in literature and poems, it is the love that little girls dream of, and little boys don’t understand. He is her first love, and she is the first good thing he finally feels like he deserves.


It takes seven months for him to finally touch her.

Naruto touches him. He claps his shoulder with his big hands, and slaps his spine with his palm. He slaps the back of his head when he’s “being a bastard,” and kicks his shins at Ichiraku when he’s “being a jerk.” Naruto throws his arm over his shoulders and brings him close when he’s being tolerable.

Naruto and Sakura touch all the time; they’re affectionate like siblings. Sometimes Naruto plays with her hair; sometimes Sakura pulls at his spikes. He hugs her whenever he sees her, and sometimes she jumps on his back during training. He slings his arm around her shoulders, and swings her back and forth whenever she’s cute, or funny, or anything at all. They hold each other when they’re sad. On special occasions, he has seen Sakura and Naruto kiss on the lips, on the cheek, on the hand, on the temple, and it’s nothing more than platonic. They cry together, laugh together, and scream together. When they sit next to each other, their thighs graze, and their arms touch.

The most him and Sakura touch is during training. Sometimes, he grazes her soft skin with his rough palms. Sometimes the tips of her leather gloves make contact with his body in a powerful thrust. His cheeks have come into contact with her hair before, which isn’t as silky as he had imagined. He even—embarrassedly—touched her chest once with the back of his hand. She didn’t notice.

Naruto is, inherently, his best friend; they have the undeniable bond of devoted brotherhood, but Sakura? What was Sakura to him before he left, anyway; a friend, an annoyance? She was a weakling—someone to protect, he corrected—who transitioned into one of the strongest people he knows. She is a girl who loves him irrevocably and unconditionally. She is one of his special people, but does he really know her?

A frail girl with big, innocent emerald eyes, and a fascination for the world had turned into a wise woman with enlightened eyes, and a cunning knowledge of life around her. She was always a smart girl, and possibly one of the smartest people he had ever encountered. Her grades were always a little better than his in the academy, sure, but her physical skill had never compared. Now, her brute strength surpasses his, and her acute knowledge of battle and medical prowess makes her more than an ally on the battlefield, but an asset.

Does he know this new, strong Sakura: this proud, ambitious girl taking the world by storm? Does he know this girl who is now easily considered one of the strongest kunoichi of all time? She surpassed a Sannin-turned-Hokage, and if that isn’t enough, her first sensei is Hokage, and her best friend is slated to bet he Hokage. She’s head of the hospital, is lined up to become head medic of ANBU, and kicked his own ass her fair share of times. Does he know this girl enough to still call her a friend, a special person, to touch her?

Sasuke blames his lack of a relationship with her on the simple fact that he hasn’t really been around too much. Naruto’s and his souls intermingle; no matter where they are, or who they’re with, they will always be connected, but Sakura? Does he have this connection with her? He doesn’t know, and he often questions it.

He often questions whether or not he even deserves this sort of connection with her, whether he deserves her open arms, and kind words after all he’s put her through. She can do so much better than him as a friend, let alone a lover.

But he’s leaving now, and so is Naruto, and she will be alone once more. Sure, she has Kakashi, but he’s busy with his duties as Hokage, and often gets lost on the road of life (Sasuke often questioned this notion, even in his days with Orochimaru, but now, he realizes, he’s planning on doing the same). She has Tsunade, and Shizune, and Ino, and Hinata, and all her other friends (Sakura is a popular one, he hears). She has the hospital, and missions with ANBU in her future, and missions with different teams because they’re not genin anymore (at least, she isn’t). She has so much available to her, but he knows—just like Naruto knows—that it won’t be the same.

Despite his being gone for so long, they are her boys. They have always been her boys, and they will always be her boys, and her boys are leaving.

She asks, just like she always does, if she can come. She isn’t begging, and this time she knows he’ll come back—she doesn’t have to trust him, but she does, and it causes his heart to swell—and she knows that she’ll have her whole life with him around. Even if he doesn’t deserve her, she deserves him, and he will always be around because of that.

“My sins have nothing to do with you,” he says, and he means it. She has never been a problem in his life. She has been a cause for smiles, and laughter, and happiness, and even heartbreak, but she is the farthest thing from evil that he’s ever experienced; she is fresh water, and spring flowers, and clean air, and he is a barren wasteland after war. He needs her.

Her face falls, and he thinks he sees tears in her eyes, and he almost laughs—because she doesn’t get it, but he’s not surprised.

With a small smile on his face, but the largest he can muster, he pushes his fingers against her forehead—her large forehead, the forehead that has caused her so much turmoil, her beautiful forehead—in a loving gesture of silent intimacy and says, “I’ll see you when I’m back… Thank you.” And he really, really means it.

This is the start of something that cannot be stopped.

Keep reading

Oh Pt. 2; Sherlock x Reader

Requested by 3 lovely Anons:

Part 2 to oh where the reader explains that she likes sherlock to and Anderson was just trying to make Molly jealous and it seemed to have worked because they were snogging which is why she went down? Sorry if it’s too detailed /.\

Can you write a part two of “oh”? Thanks

Please please please write a part two to the Sherlock x reader :oh I need more pleaaaaaaaseeee xxxx

Sorry if it’s too short, hope you enjoy! 

Part 1


“Y/N I-“ Sherlock tried to say but you turned and ran away from him, not quite ready to face him. He let out a defeated sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Well now what,” he posed to John.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Omg I would love you even more than I already do if you wrote something for number 4. I don't know what it is, but a part of me is just begging for a bellarke version of this. Please, please, please? If you do this your amazingness level will have increased a million bajillion.

Another anon requested #4 as well: “…I could give you a massage?”

AO3.

Bellamy knocked on the door to Clarke’s cabin and waited for her to call him in.  In the two months since she returned things had gone back to normal between them, for the most part.  Sometimes she got unexpectedly quiet, and she tended to flinch when anyone tried to touch her, but she was back and she was safe so Bellamy counted it as a win.  She’d heal, eventually.  He just needed to give her time.

Clarke was sitting with her back to him, maps of the new camp spread out in front of her.  She turned around stiffly, her shoulders squared and her back ramrod straight.  Bellamy furrowed his brow, his question about the placement of the smokehouse forgotten.  “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged and then immediately winced.  “I did something to my back today, I think when I was practicing with the guard.”  New Camp Jaha regulations stated that everyone over 18 had to finish guard training, whether or not they took a spot in the guard. “It’s fine, just stiff.  What did you need?”

“I was wondering if we should move the smokehouse to the southeast corner to keep it downwind from the main camp.”

Clarke nodded and winced again.  “Yeah, I’ll make sure to bring that up with Marcus.”  Her jaw was set and he could see the way even small movements seemed to hurt.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll live,” she said breezily, but the tightness around her eyes showed her pain.

“Lay down,” he said, tipping his head toward her cot.  “I’ll give you a massage.  You can barely move, you know.”

Clarke hesitated and Bellamy crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look intimidating.  It never really worked on her–not even at the beginning–but it was worth a shot.  Finally she smiled a little reluctantly and toed her boots off.

She moved awkwardly toward her bed and sat down, only to stand back up again.  “Turn around,” she ordered.  “I’d rather have my shirt off so you’re not just rubbing the fabric into my skin.”

Bellamy obliged and waited patiently until she signaled that she was ready.  He slipped his boots off to keep them from covering her fur blankets in mud and climbed in.  He settled his knees on either side of her hips and sat back on his heels, keeping most of his weight off her.  Her bare back lay before him, soft and smooth in the dim light.  Bellamy dug his fingers into the muscles joining her neck to her shoulders and Clarke sighed.  “That okay?”

“It’s good,” she said, her voice muffled by the furs.  “You can keep going.”

Her muscles felt like steel under his fingertips, bunched and corded and tense.  He worked slowly, starting with her shoulders and then moving methodically down her spine.  He found a knot between her shoulderblades and when he pressed on it with his thumb she hissed in pain.  “Too hard?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No, that’s–that’s it.  That’s the spot.  I’ll tell you if I need you to stop.”  Clarke whimpered a little when he started working the knot in earnest, but soon he felt her start to relax.  The knots remained but felt looser, and she no longer seemed to radiate tension.

Bellamy was almost proud of himself until he heard her sniffle.  “Everything okay?” he asked.

Clarke nodded, but now that he was looking at her face he could see tear tracks glistening on her cheek and across the bridge of her nose.  He stopped and moved to kneel next to the bed, near her head.  “Hey, I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I thought this would help.”

Clarke turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining with tears.  “That’s not it–it did help.  I’m fine, really,” she whispered hoarsely.

Bellamy found himself tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.  “Crying isn’t usually a sign that you’re okay.”

She gave him a watery smile.  “I just haven’t really let anyone touch me since I left.  My mom hugged me when I came back, and you did, and Monty tried, but–that’s really it.  I didn’t think I could handle it, you know?”  Bellamy nodded and wiped away another tear with his thumb.  “I guess I missed it more than I thought, and–sorry, it’s not you.  I just got overwhelmed.”

He rested his hand on her back and ignored the part of his brain that pointed out that was somehow more intimate than anything they’d done.  “Want me to go?”

Clarke bit her lip and shook her head.  “Could you stay?  For the night?”

Bellamy held her gaze and nodded.  Clarke rolled away from him and he pulled his shirt off over his head, let it drop to the floor and shifted until he lay parallel to her.  Together they tugged up the blankets and Bellamy draped his arm over her and pulled her back flush against his chest.  Her breast rested lightly on his forearm and he buried his face in her hair.  “This all right?” he asked.

“Mmmhmmm,” Clarke hummed.  She took a shaky breath that he felt, rather than heard.  He didn’t want to tell her how much he needed this too, so he simply tightened his arms around her and let her warmth seep into his skin.

She was healing, and so was he.