Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved.
Bucky x Reader
Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included)
Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.
They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.
Here it is, special dedication for that anon who specifically hates cliche marichat balcony scenes. I wrote one at least.
Tagging @baneismydragon who apparently has a throne of Marichat cliches like wow I’m jealous. And it is also for everybody who was super sweet with me yesterday, thank you guys, I love you all <3
Side note: Juliette is the French version of Juliet so no, it isn’t a typo.
Marinette paced from one end of her balcony to the other, while glaring at the papers in her hands. It was well past midnight and she could be seeping just like Tikki was doing at the moment, in her comfortable bed. But no, she was out, repeating the lines for the stupid play. Why did she let Alya convince her she should be in it. Ah, screw that, why did she let Alya convince her she should try for Juliette’s part out of all things. Why was the school doing a Romeo and Juliette anyway? Did they run out of French plays? And even if they had to do it, couldn’t they do the modern version? Which didn’t require excentric old words no one used anymore?
Marinette groaned exasperatedly, before trying another line. Trying to sound sad she recited.
“The only man I love is the son of the only man I hate! I saw him too early without knowing who he was, and I found out who he was too late! Love is a monster for making me fall in love with my worst enemy.”
Marinette let her shoulders drop. That sounded lame even to her ears. Honestly, how was she supposed to make that sound sincere? She was a bad actress, she knew it. The only way she could pull off that line was if Adrien’s father was Hawkmoth or something. Which was ridiculous, of course. Honestly, she should just give up on this, Alya would get over it.
“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliette is the sun.”
Marinette turned around, startled to see Chat Noir on the chimney. With all the feline grace he possessed, he jumped on the lower one. Marinette was wonderstruck when she noticed his look. He seemed to be really into it.
“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!” Marinette watched flabbergasted as Chat tip toped on the side, careful to not kick her plants while gesticulating wildly, emotion raw in his voice. Extending his hand towards her, he continued. “It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.”
Marinette almost yelled in panic as Chat Noir let himself fall over the edge, but stopped just in time when she heard his voice continuing with the lines. Her eyes trailed across the railing of the balcony as she followed the sound of his voice. And just then Chat appeared again over the railing.
“As daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night.” Marinette stood frozen in amazement as Chat stepped towards her. She was captivated and she wouldn’t even bother lying. It was impressive. Not only the fact that her dear partner knew the whole damn monolog of Romeo, but also the way he recited it. It truly made her feel like she was watching one of the most skilled actors putting on a show just for her.
“See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand.” Marinette looked up in surprise as Chat leaned towards her, his next words being whispered. “ That I might touch that cheek.” one gloved finger caressed her cheek gently.
“Oh, my.” Marinette wasn’t even sure if it was her gasping that out loud. Chat got awfully close, but she didn’t mind it, not quite. Marinette realized, she didn’t quite appreciate how nice Chat’s eyes were, even with the cat-like look, they were complementing beautifully his blond hair. She leaned in without really realizing. Not until she captured his lips.
Chat melted against her. It was so much better than that kiss on Valentine’s Day. It was no rush to break a curse or run to detransform. And she could appreciate so much better the softness of his lips and the faint taste of mint. Chat wrapped one arm around her waist bringing her closer. Marinette sighed against his lips. She felt warm and it was such a simply pleasant sensation, their lips against each other.
Marinette let out a grunt of annoyance once they broke apart. It took them a couple of seconds to stare at each other before they jumped away. It finally seemed to drown on them what they had done.
“I got a little… um.”
“And you were…”
“And you just…’
They both rubbed their necks awkwardly, while glancing at each other. Marinette decided she won’t let the awkwardness ruin this night which just took a wonderful turn.
“Do you… do you want to stay for milk and cookies?” she glanced at Chat, waiting for his response.
He smiled shyly, a little blush appearing on his cheeks. “I’d love to.”
There are a lot of things good girls don’t. They don’t laugh too loud, they don’t dress too short, they don’t swear and they don’t put themselves out there. They wait, and they do it while sitting properly in their pristine white dresses, with their hands crossed over their laps and their back sitting up straight.
There’s a lot of things good girls don’t and getting their panties wet every time they see a guy is definitely one of them.
You rubbed your thighs together as your fingers pressed tightly to the table you were sitting on, trying to hold on to a reality that was slipping away as you looked at him. You imagined the taste of his skin, and how it must have felt against yours when he was lying on top of you, and you thought about the fire of his kiss, and how it probably tasted like peppermint and just a tiny hint of sin. You thought about heaven and having him lie next to you at night.
The fire that had settled in your lower tummy was going to consume you all at any moment, and you shifted in your seat, trying to release some of the pressure that had built between your legs. You were definitely wet.
But as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, imagining yourself on your knees while your eyes obediently locked in with his. You imagined your lips wrapping around the two fingers he was offering to you, and the light bob you would do to take them all the way in, while your tongue pressed to them to suck them lightly, looking at him as his eyes, usually green and sweet, turned dark, the burning lust covering them as he gazed down at you. You even imagined the light gag of your throat as he pushed his fingers all the way in, and the moan that bubbled up from your very core when he slid them out, the strings of spit that fell down making you blush as you looked down.
“Look at me, yeah?” He would say, with his voice a little raspier than usual as he kneeled in front of you. “C’mon, kitten, look at me.” He would repeat his command slowly, a smirk curling up the corner of his lips as your eyes fluttered open to obey him. “Look at me while I fuck ya with my fingers, yeah? Use all that spit you left. Were you imagining my cock?” He would ask, his smirk growing bigger as you nodded, still unable to speak your own words, as your heart was knotting on your throat and beating rapidly at the sight of him. “You’re such a fucking good girl.”
“I could do that,” he states a minute later, and he nods his heads a few times as if it’s some sort of confirmation as he mulls it over, and you look at him like you’re confused.
“Do what?” You question, and he blinks at you.
“Be your boyfriend,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it makes your heart beat a bit faster.
“You mean fake boyfriend.”
Harry and Y/N work at a coffee shop and he’s never been a good actor
12k+, fluff, smut, ripping of panties mid-fuck, and just a dash of angst
OKAAAY SO, i’ve been dead around here because i’ve been working on this for a few days now! special shoutout to @mermaidsonships for letting me yell about apple (that’s what we named the girlie in this amongst our texts) and harry as well as bounce ideas off of u! i love u sister! i’ve got a fixation of fake bf harry + harry being rly teasing so if u combine those 2 things u get this big mess of a thing! i hope u enjoy!
Summary: Y/N and Jughead take a long drive out of Riverdale for a road trip and discover their hidden feelings for each other
Warnings: swearing, slight smut, drinking
‘Swerving on the 405, I can never keep my eyes off this’
We’d been driving for hours, we didn’t even know where we were going anymore, or what were running from. The sudden impulsive decision to get out of town and take a road trip was decided by Jughead. He had been distressed at school lately and said he had a lot of stuff going on in his head, and he needed to get away.
Me being the good friend I am, and caring a great deal for him, didn’t want him to be alone so I decided to make the offer on taking him away for a while.
Words: 1358 Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader Featuring: Tony Stark Warnings: swearing, maybe Requested by anon “ Pietro and the reader having a lightsaber battle in the middle of the toy section” Summary: What happens when you and Pietro are in the toy section and Pietro is pracitcally a toddler in a store? Chaos ensues. Authors Note: this was so much fun omf
“Target could be my second home,” You marveled as you walked into the doors of the large store.
Pietro laughed. “Well, you do come here a lot.”
“Because I love it!” You squealed and walked to where the one-dollar section was.
With a roll of the eyes, he put his hand on your shoulder. “That, and Tony kicks us out of the base a lot.”
Shrugging, you picked up random things in the one-dollar bins. Tony does kick you two out of the base a lot, mainly because when you don’t have anything to do, you annoy someone until you are entertained and come up with something to do. He’s usually the easiest to annoy, not to mention that he gets annoyed really easily, and his reactions are typically the funniest.
You walked up to the nearest employee, doing like you and Pietro always do. “Excuse me, miss, where are the toasters?” You linked onto Pietro’s arm. “My husband is really worried about the fact that we do not have a toaster and I’m afraid he’s going to break down if he doesn’t see a toaster soon,” You told the girl who seemed to be a bit older.
She quickly directed you to where the toasters would be, and once she was out of sight, the two of you broke into a fit of laughter. “That was a good one. I’m really passionate about toasters,” He laughed. It was almost a tradition after the many times you two have been to Target recently, asking the staff random and strange questions. Sometimes he was your son, sometimes you were a random stranger, and today he was your husband. Of course, you two were only friends, which made it only funnier.
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn’t think he can fall in love. But every time he thinks of the way he’s around her, the way she makes him smile even in the darkest of days, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s wrong.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 2315
Warnings: Hmmm. Like the tiniest bit of angst. Drinking as a coping mechanism (not healthy, but this is Dean we’re talking about, so, you know…). And fluff, guys. So much fluff.
Author’s Notes: This is my submission for @supernatural-jackles Jen’s SPN Birthday Challenge. My sweetest friend, Jen, happy birthday (even if I’m a few days early) and thank you so much for letting me participate. I loved working on this one.
My prompt for this was a gif that’s inserted into the fic. The story is very much based on Chris Stapleton’s Tennessee Whiskey (which is the most amazing song ever and has Dean’s name all over it *cough* the glorious Jensen Ackles has covered that song and it’s a dream*cough*)
Special thank you to my twin @ravengirl94 because she is the best best-friend and writing guru in the world (and because she kept me sane these past few weeks). You’re the best, twin.
Thank y’all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3
had always liked bars.
He liked the way
they looked, deep mahogany booths and age-speckled lights making him feel at
home in places that had seen their fair share of stories, the way that distinct
scent of cigarette smoke and aged whiskey clung to his clothes afterwards, like
it was a piece of him.
He liked the inverted
bottles that were pressed along the walls, the beer and the whiskey and the
bourbon, and the way it burnt down his throat and made him feel something, anything, on those nights he was far
too numb and far too broken to believe he was alive in the first place.
used to be Dean’s poison and fuel anyway; it cleansed the impure parts of him and kept
him going when he felt like there wasn’t much to keep going for.
And then she came along.
Y/N waltzed into
his life years ago, when she’d shakily shot the werewolf that had kidnapped her
right in the heart, and, ever since that day, she’d somehow managed to wove
herself deep into the fabric of his existence.
Summary: (Bucky POV) Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other.
Warnings: swearing, super mild smoot (it’s not really even smut)
Word Count: 4501
Author’s Note: This part is way too damn long. I really just like the ending. But I also couldn’t figure out what I wanted to cut so you’re getting all of it.
As we climb back to the car, Y/N has slipped off of Sam’s shoulders and shoved past him, nearly running up the trail, farther away from Sam. And from me. When we make it to the top of the trail and the edge of the parking lot, Steve looks to me with a shocked and unsure shrug, lifting his hands up in question. She barely speaks to anyone, only muttering a disgruntled, “Trunk, please” to Steve.
Once we’ve changed into dry clothes, Y/N tosses her now useless phone haphazardly into the trunk and grabs for her dated Atlas before slipping into the car without a word. She doesn’t move closer to me, she doesn’t look up from her Atlas. Goddamn it. She’s so upset. “Go left,” she instructs with a heavy sigh as she flips through the pages until she finds the map for South Dakota. She traces over an already marked road until it reaches the end of the page, before moving quickly over to Wyoming.
Request: Idk if you are still talking requests but I love the idea of a Bucky x reader fic or smut where Bucky gets a new motorcycle and she’s reader admiring it so he offers to take her for a ride! Ps I love your work
Summary: You and Bucky have always had sexual tension, neither of you acted on it for different reasons; the tension snaps after the two of you go for a ride on his new motorcycle together.
Warnings: Some smutty smut, a little angst, uhm…I think that’s it? Oh! Metal hand kink!
A/N: Hahaha I know nothing about motorcycles, I apologize in advance.
It’s amazing, really. Castiel has blown him off, lied to him, stolen from him, and broken his god damn heart too many times to count today. But when Dagon raises her hand at him for what Dean thinks must be the last time, it’s still the worst he’s felt all week.
“No!” he screams, before all the breath is punched out of him at once. A golden glow takes over Castiel’s eyes, one that he hasn’t seen before.
He forgets to flinch when Castiel offers to fix his arm. He exposes the most vulnerable parts of himself, again, he never learns, and allows Castiel’s hand on him. His fingers hesitate over the folds of his sleeve, pressing more insistently when Dean doesn’t move away. He hates that he’s being cautious. No, he’s grateful for it. No, he -
The familiar cold pulse of grace taking root steals his breath away.
“Are you ok?” he asks. Fragile and weak, like it always is with them.
The golden glow has left, but Castiel is still different somehow. He doesn’t slouch; he holds himself with all the confidence of someone that thinks themselves blameless. He’s seen that look at least once before, back when Castiel still liked to lie and go behind their backs for ultimately selfless reasons.
And he still asks Dean to trust him.
He would. He’s spent his day tracking phones and fixing trucks. It might hurt like a bitch, but this is all he has.
“Don’t,” he begs. A plea, a prayer.
Castiel drops his fingers to Dean’s head, and he doesn’t hesitate at all.
Prompt: Can you do a soulmate au where jughead and the reader can only see the world in black and white but once they see each others eyes they can see color? Also can the reader be a really quiet and shy photographer but friendly and kinda loud when around people she knows well?? Ps: I really love your blog💕
A/N: I hope you like this!! It turned out more poetic than I thought it was going to? Oops. (It’s also almost 4am so my brain is like fried? Hopefully it made some sense.) xx
i want this shot of like, 221b in the dark, okay, it’s nighttime and you’re in the sitting room and it’s dark, but the light is on in the kitchen and it’s spilling out onto the rug, just barely illuminating the silhouettes of their two empty chairs. so the shot moves forward and there’s the clinking sound of people moving around, and maybe john’s low voice coming through, nonsense words really, there you go and how is that, and the shot moves around the corner so you’re looking into the kitchen.
and in the kitchen only the light above the table is on so the corners are all still dark, but it’s sherlock sat on the table, his legs sort of hanging, his toes just brushing the lino because he’s tall, and john standing between his knees with a latex glove on and a look of concentration and he’s dabbing something on a wound on sherlock’s forehead, the both of them speaking very quietly like if they were to speak at a normal volume it might shatter something in the night, murmuring back and forth with that specific sort of humor that people use when they’re worried or nervous about something and trying to play it off, you know the one i mean, the kind of humor that seems a little too forced and too quiet but everyone laughs a little because they’re grateful for it, they’re grateful for this act of normalcy even if it’s just pretend. and john is leant a little too close and his eyes are worried, too worried, and sherlock shifts under his touch because the look in john’s eyes makes him unbearably guilty for all the worry john’s carried, for other head injuries john’s seen him bear and not been able to save him from, and it’s quiet and their gentle laughter sort of peters out as john puts aside the antibiotic and takes off his glove, still standing between sherlock’s knees. there you are, he says, right as rain, and sherlock dips his head a little to avoid those bright, worried eyes, and says thank you, and sorry you keep having to do this, and john blinks with a tiny smile and says you know i don’t mind, because he doesn’t, not really.
and sherlock just shrugs and looks up again, because he’s expected john to move away but john hasn’t, he’s still standing there, looking at sherlock like he means to be studying the scrape on his forehead but really just looking, in that kind of melancholy affection people get when they’re looking at a thing they love dearly but will never really have, that sort of fond resignation that this is the way things are, good enough but only because you tell yourself that, not because it really is, and sherlock looks up at john and john looks back down at him and their eyes catch and the room goes quiet, terribly quiet, more quiet than london ever really is even at night, so quiet john can hear it when sherlock swallows, so quiet sherlock almost hears it before he feels it: john reaching out and putting his hand over the back of sherlock’s where it rests on sherlock’s knee.
and john steps closer, and sherlock doesn’t look away, and the light above the table is too bright and john thinks his eyes are too pale, too beautiful, the thin color of a creek swollen with summer rain, something lush and green just waiting on the edges but just barely out of sight, and john leans in and sherlock smells like antiseptic and the raw, tremulous edge of anticipation and fear but he doesn’t back away, he doesn’t pull his hand away
and it happens like a brush of fate, john leaning in and it’s not even a kiss, not really, it’s the corners of their mouths slipping against each other in a trembling breath, sherlock stuttering in an almost silent gasp, his lips barely parted as john just barely, just barely, touching the side of his mouth to the side of sherlock’s, and sherlock wants to reach out and grab hold of his hips but doesn’t want to startle this into stopping, and john holds his mouth there a moment, the both of them breathing in cautious sips against each other’s cheeks, and sherlock can feel john’s breath against his lips, impossibly intimate, as if john is sharing something with him, as if john is trying to share something with him that cannot be shared with words but only with this exchange of life
and when john moves away he doesn’t move away, not really, he just moves forward, mouths moving away as he presses his cheek against sherlock’s cheek, and his shoulders are shaking, and sherlock slowly slowly gently gently dares to raise his free hand to john’s waist, and he feels solid and sturdy and warm and gorgeous, and then it’s sherlock’s turn, it’s sherlock nose nudging over john’s cheek, leading the way to find his mouth and this time, properly, this time, lip to lip and sherlock can’t breathe past him because he’s there, all of him, his skin and his jaw and his fingers and his eyelashes, this push and press of mouths settling together like the plates of the earth, quaking into sherlock’s chest, underneath his ribs
and this one kiss turns into another, as softly as the sun rises into another day, and another one after that, and it’s john’s hand, protective on the nape of sherlock’s neck, the delicate press of tongues and the voices trapped in their throats under the weight of gravity, under the weight of time, under the weight of finally, until john pulls back and finds the shell of sherlock’s ear and figures out how to let it go, how to let it all go, how to lift all that weight into nothingness: i love you, sherlock. i love you.
You’ve been feeling tired and a little dizzy all day, and you’re not really sure why. You’ve been trying to hide that you haven’t been feeling well because you don’t want to bother anyone since you know everyone is busy because tour just started. Luckily Shawn has been so busy with everything he’s had to do for the concert tonight that he hasn’t really seen you much. This is good only because you know he has a tendency to worry, and with everything going on for his show tonight, you don’t want him to have to worry about you too.
Shawn just went onstage a few minutes ago, so he’ll definitely be busy for the next couple of hours. You normally watch his show from side stage, but today you’re not feeling up to it, so you stayed in his green room instead. You’re lying down on the couch. You have a killer headache, and you feel a little dizzy every time you move your head or try to sit up.
Summary: Most people think the Grim Reaper or commonly know as Death, is a faceless man wearing a dark cloak with a scythe in his hand. Oh boy were they wrong. Anyone who meets him would mistake him for one of God’s angels, so, what happens when you do meet him?
Basic Summary: Death (Min Yoongi) meets you and instantly falls in love with you, his job is to take you to the other side but instead asks you to become his wife. While thinking of your answer, a miracle happens. You come back to life.
Pairing: Yoongi X Reader
Genre: Pure fluff, Humour, bit of Angst.
“It’s been lovely to talk with you Mrs Kang” his deep voice bounced off of the creme coloured walls. “And so with you uh” The old lady stumbled over her words, not knowing what to call him.
The man chuckles, “Yoongi” he says lightly, leading her to the door way. She sighs and stops in her tracks “So this is it?” she whispers looking up at him, “I’m afraid so, I don’t usually tell my clients this but that was your last life, for now you will go up to the clouds…but I do have an escort waiting for you”
Yoongi smiles and opens the wooden door, a tall elderly man displayed at the foot steps. “Oh my!” The old lady gasps and falls into her husbands arms, for whom she hasn’t seen in five years.
“My Dear!” the elderly man shouted engulfing his wife into a loving hug. “Thank you, so much” the old lady reached out and took Yoongi’s hands and shook them, ignoring the fact that they were ten degrees colder than her own.
The couple walk up the stairs.
“Jungkook! Do I have anymore appointments?” the older male closed the door and walked back to his own mahogany desk. “No, sir. Not that I know of” the younger male pipes up from his own.
“Good, I can finally finish Goblin” Yoongi smiles referring to the hit K drama.
As soon as Yoongi opens the website Jungkook screams “Sir you’ve got an un expected case. It’s a car crash scene” Yoongi groans.
He walks over to the door and grabs his jacket and hat putting them both on.
“Where is it?” Yoongi ask’s, prancing the grounds where cherry blossom trees cover the street. “at the end of this street″ Jungkook whispers, barely keeping up with him.
The older male disappears into thin air to where the scene is, Jungkook groans cursing to himself that he doesn’t know how to do it yet.
Have you ever heard of love at first sight? If you don’t believe in it. Here’s proof. Yoongi looked at the young girl before him, butterflies were released into his stomach, Yoongi had never felt this way before in his life as the Grim Reaper.
“Y/n Y/l/n” Yoongi started catching your attention, your puffy red eyes displayed perfectly. Normally he wouldn’t care but this time his heart ached just a bit.
After he named your age, birth date, weight ect. ect. You looked up at him “Is this correct?” he raised one eyebrow asking you, “The weight” you whispered he sighed and got out his pen, “Bigger or Lower?” “Bigger” you said “By how much?” he asked, you shook your head not willing to give out the information.
“Listen, I understand. You’re not the first girl who has refused to give me her age or weight, trust me, I don’t care about it.” He sheepishly smiled at you.
“I’m 62 Kilo Grams” you smile. Yoongi, taken a back. Rarely no one tells him, of course he already knows but everybody refuses to tell.
“Great, lets go” he smiled extending his left hand out, you looked him up and down and then back to your lifeless body. Bystanders trying to get your bloody covered frame out of the car, some crying some screaming.
“I don’t understand why they’re crying, I mean I didn’t even know them” You sighed standing up grabbing his hand. “Some people need to cry, so they take any chance they have to start crying. Others are just in shock.” he chuckles.
You smile and finally admire his features, “Why haven’t you asked any questions about me?” he whispered as you two strolled down the street.
“My grandma, she told me about you. You were a legend and a myth where she grew up, I know exactly who you are but I never believed in it at first…but now you’re here” you laughed remembering the fond memory of your grand mother.
The two of you reached the end of street “This won’t hurt but close your eyes, they might get damaged” he whispered. In a matter of seconds you were at his office.
“I rarely do this. Actually, I don’t do this at all” Yoongi started, thinking if he should really ask you this. “But, would you like to stay here…with me? You wouldn’t go to the other side. Instead, you would be here as my wife” Yoongi knew this was forbidden.
You were taken aback by his sudden question, would you really want to stay here for the rest of your days? You didn’t want to die, from the stories your grand mother told you, he could go anywhere in the world and explore. Something you couldn’t do because of the student debt you owed to your university.
You were looking for the answer, Yoongi’s warm smile making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You though of the cons and pros and the pros took first place, you were about to tell him yes but then something happened.
“Clear!” You heard a female shout, the electric impulses shot through your body making you jolt forwards.You’re eyes slowly opened, revealing the all too bright light known as the sun, ‘was that all a dream or did that happened?’
“What the hell happened?” Jungkook whispered looking at his boss waving his hand where you previously were. “I-I don’t know, find where she is!” Yoongi shouted.
Jungkook runs over to his black desk and grabs the mortal pad, an immortal electronic device that can tell you anything about anybody. “Sir…why did you ask her that? I mean, if you wanted a companion, there are plenty of other female grim reapers who would love to be all over you” Jungkook whispered, scribbling down the address on a scrap piece of paper.
“She…she was different than all of the others, humans and Grim Reapers. She knew who I was ever since she was a little girl, nobody in the history of my career know who I am.” Yoongi sighed grabbing the paper from Jungkook’s hand.
“You knew what she was going to say don’t you? I could hear her thoughts from here” Jungkook laughs and sits down. “She was practically shouting yes” Yoongi smiles and vanishes to your hospital room.
“Darling we have to go now” your mum whispered to you kissing your forehead, “Your younger brother has school tomorrow, and your father and I have work tomorrow. Your aunty will come to check on you” she stands up and walks out the door.
“you have a lovely family” The nurse walks in, changing the IV drip. “Would you like the lights off?” she asks. You nod your head. Luckily there was no damage done to your spine, It just hurt. Like a bitch.
As soon as it went dark and the door was shut, you closed your eyes and waited for your deep slumber to arrive.
“Luckily I didn’t say yes” you whispered to yourself, “Why’s that?” you heard a deep voice come out from the corner. A scream escaped your lips “Who’s there?!” you whisper shout grabbing the plastic cup next to you.
“Relax, it’s only me. Now, why are you lucky you didn’t say yes?” The plastic cup flew out of your hand and into his, the lights flickered on showing his face.
“So it wasn’t a dream” you whispered, he stepped closer to you. “I repeat, why are you lucky you didn’t say yes?” he grinned showing the sharps of his teeth.
“I have a second chance at life now, If I said yes I wouldn’t be able to take this opportunity” you sighed.
“But you were going to say yes, please. Come with me. I will give you everything that you could possibly want” his smile turned into a more general one, the type you would see on an angel.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I have a second chance at life.” You smiled resting your head against the white pillow.
“Well if you’re not going to come with me” he takes a seat in the green chair besides you.
“I guess I’ll just have to stick around for a while”
Little did you know, this is where your life changed.
a/n: I love you all so very much so I apologise in advance. I’m sorry about the formatting, I had a bit of an issue and I will fix it! Please don’t hate me too much Big thanks as always to the saints that helped me, I won’t name names, just know that I love you with my whole butt. (cause it’s bigger than my heart.) ;) Lau xoxo
Imagine Jensen being a nervous goofball at your wedding rehearsal.
Characters: Jensen x Reader
Warnings: Fluff, mild wedding angst
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: 6k Celebration and One Year Fic-i-verary Celebration Fic FIFTEEN. The line requested was, The line “Do I really say awesome a lot?” was requested by @iwrotemyownending . It will be highlighted in the fic. I combined it with a gif I just fell in love with. Hope you enjoy it! It kind of came out of NOWHERE. It’s a little cliche, but I love it. Thanks for celebrating with me!
Summary: You and Dean have an interesting morning, but Sam interrupts. Later, you and Mary have a little heart to heart, and Dean says something surprising.
Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2,400
Warnings (don’t read unless you want some spoilers): mild smutiness / smutty thoughts, language, sexual tension per usual
A/N: Because the response to this fic has been so amazing, and I love you guys, here’s part nine early!! (Also I feel bad because this is MORE buildup to the gala. But I think you’ll like it) Once more, feedback is always welcome!
~It’s hard to live apart while he’s at work, but this is the life you both signed up for~
Jensen x Reader
1,612 Words (including lyrics)
Warnings: Bit o’angst. Touch of smut. Romantically sad?
A/N: Based on the song “Faithfully” by Journey. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to @taste-of-dean for the read over.
Into the midnight sun.
Wheels go ‘round and ‘round
You’re on my mind.
Another season. Months away from home, going weeks at a time without your touch. It was hard, but it was the life you’d both chosen.
Another con. Another weekend where he could be home with you, but you insisted he go. The fans kept him going, kept him coming back for more, but he longed to see you.
The phone calls weren’t enough. The texts, the quick little messages helped him get through the day, but at night, he would reach across the vacant bed, fingers closing around the empty place where you should be. On the darkest nights, those nights when it seemed too hard to be gone, he would call you, laying the phone on his pillow just to listen to your voice as he fell asleep. You’d tell him of your day, silly things the kids had done, anything really. He wanted to know everything he was missing, needed to know you were alright. It broke your heart to hear the sadness in his voice as he whispered to you, promising everything was OK, that he’d be home soon. The miles between you stung like so many needles in your heart, but you stayed strong, keeping up a smile so he wouldn’t hear how much you were hurting too. You soothed him with your voice since your arms couldn’t reach that far.
“I love you Y/N/N,” he’d sigh as his eyes finally drifted closed.
Summary: Human!Sides. In this world, whenever your soulmate writes on themselves, the ink shows up on your body as well. Many soulmates use this as a way to communicate and meet up with the one they are meant to be with, and, wanting to meet his love, Roman writes cute notes on himself everyday in hopes that one day the soulmate link will be found and his lover will view his words of love. He has always been excited about the prospect of his soulmate responding and living happily ever after. One morning he writes “Good morning, my love” on his forearm and checks back to see “No morning is good” written beneath it in a handwriting that is most definitely not his own.