i would watch her reacting to things for hours and hours

Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

Request: Storm

Request: Can you write one where the reader breaks down to Bobby because she is pregnant with Dean’s baby. Thank you :)

Word Count: 1,069

<3

The rain has been coming down in buckets all night, and the wind whips at the sides of the house in such a way that every now and again, the foundations shake so severely that Bobby nearly ends up waiting out the storm in the panic room.

When he sees the flash of light outside the window followed by a rumble, he isn’t paying enough attention to think of it as anything but another facet of the storm. What he does pay attention to, however, is the frantic, loud knocking that reverberates well beyond the door.

The knocking doesn’t stop until he answers, pulling the door open to be bet with a harsh gust of wind.

“Y/N?” You’re soaked and dishevelled, and he isn’t sure which has smeared your makeup more – the rain, or the tears you’re trying and failing to hold back.

“Can- can I come in?” It’s a stupid question, but it’s the only thing your fuzzy, addled brain can come up with. Bobby doesn’t speak, but he nods, ushering you into the warmth of the house where you grew up and forcing the door closed against the wind.

“What the hell are you doing out in this?” Driving in this weather would be dangerous enough without you being in a complete state. You don’t reply, though, shivering in the hallway and wiping at your face in frustration. It scares him – you’re the closest thing he has to family: he’d raised you since you were six months old and your parents had been killed, leaving no-one to keep an eye on their demon-blood infected child. He’d taken you in, and found that he’d quickly become all too fond of you.

“Y/N, seriously. Where are Sam and Dean?” It must be something to do with them, because it elicits a sob from you, “I don’t want to play twenty questions with you.” He steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders and pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead, “Give yourself some time, alright? Go get a shower, get changed. Everything’s fine. Nothing is going to hurt you while you’re here. I’ll make you a hot chocolate while you’re gone, just how you like it. How does that sound?”

To his eternal relief, that manages to get a nod and a weak smile from you, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before letting you go. He doesn’t look away from you until you’re safely up the stairs, and then sighs to himself – he’s never seen you like this. But you need him, and he’ll be damned if you’re not going to have him to go to.

***

It’s nearly half an hour before he hears you coming down the stairs, but there’s nothing wrong with that – especially when he sees how much better you’re looking. Sure, your eyes are still red-rimmed and you’re still shaking with the effort it takes not to cry, but at least your clothes are warm and dry and your lips are no longer bluish with the cold.

You shuffle into the room and take a seat, swallowing hard before looking up at Bobby. He sets the hot chocolate – piled high with cream, chocolate shavings, and marshmallows – in front of you, and then takes the seat next to yours. The storm outside still batters the windows, but the kitchen is warm, and with the pair of you bathed in warm light, it’s almost cosy.

“Talk to me.” Bobby prompts softly, reaching over and resting his hand over the top of yours. He sees the way you flinch at the gesture, and for a moment he thinks the worst, “Is it Dean? Has he hurt you?” He hadn’t been overly happy when you’d begun dating the eldest Winchester two and a half years ago, but you’d been happy, and Dean had given him a heartfelt promise that his intentions were pure – but Bobby had promised in return that the moment Dean so much as breathed the wrong way at you, he’d find himself without the means to do so again.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me if you want to fix this.”

“I can’t fix it.” You speak properly for the first time since you stepped into the house, “It’s broken. Very broken.”

“Still with the ambiguous, sweetheart.”

It takes you a few moments to muster up the courage to come out with it, but eventually, you do.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence, apart from the sounds of the storm outside, fills the room. For a long moment, he can’t find it in himself to speak – and then…

“Do not drink that.” He wraps his spare hand around the mug and slides it away from you, reminded suddenly of the copious amount of whiskey he just dropped into that, “Is it… it’s Dean’s?”

You scoff, “That’s the problem, isn’t it? Of course it is.” Sorrow and bitterness taint your tone in equal measure, and Bobby winces.

“Have you told him?” He tries, and you nod again.

“Yeah. That’s what the second problem is.” You sigh, pulling your hand away from his in order to run your hands over your face, skilfully masking a sob – but not enough. Bobby knows you inside and out, and picks up on it instantly.

“He reacted badly?”

“If saying I’d ruined everything and needed to get the hell out of his sight is reacting badly, then I’d say so, yeah.” You spit, but your voice breaks and before you know it, your head is on his shoulder and you’re sobbing openly into him, everything coming out. He holds onto you tightly, a silent promise that he’ll never let you go; that you always have him.

***

It’s nearly three hours later, by the time he’s managed to calm you down and get you asleep. You’re still asleep on the sofa when his phone rings. He answers, begrudgingly, when he realises who it is.

“Dean?”

“Bobby? Have you heard from Y/N? She’s gone and we’ve been trying to track her all night, but we haven’t found anything.” He rattles off, his voice frantic and shaking.

“Why? What happened?” Bobby asks, watching you sleeping form.

“We got in a fight. I said something stupid. God, Bobby, I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t…” He cuts himself off, and swallows hard, “Have you heard from her?”

He pauses, “Nope. Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

Inspired by today’s eclipse and for @sterekwritingroom‘s flash event.

–––––––

The first group of weres pass through Beacon Hills on a Thursday. Stiles probably wouldn’t notice except that he’s spent the past year and a half hanging out almost exclusively with supernatural beings and that… well, ok, these guys aren’t exactly subtle. They tilt their heads almost in sync as he passes by them –– heading in to pay cash at the gas station while they pile back into their packed SUV. Noses flare, stances shift, and Stiles has about point five seconds to plan a bolt back to the Jeep before one of them’s announcing “Don’t trouble your Alpha; we’re just passing north for the event.” And then they’re back in the SUV and gone.

So… yeah, not to diminish Stiles’ awesome deductive skills here but… not subtle.

The second sighting happens before school on Friday, when Stiles ducks into the Dunkin’ Donuts for some much needed coffee and practically trips over a trio of sugar-high toddlers. One of them, wearing what looks like a home-painted t-shirt, decorated with a slightly uneven yellow circle, is midway through whining “Momma, we’re gonna miss the––“ when she stops in her tracks to stare up at him.

Stiles blinks down at her, the door perched against his elbow.

“Say ‘scuse me,” the boy next to her murmurs. It’s too early for this, brain crawling the sludge-slow of non-coffee through his system, and Stiles isn’t sure which of them he’s talking to.

“Excuse me,” he says and all three immediately shuffle, staring wide enough it makes Stiles’ eyes ache for them. He starts past, scrubbing a hand across his jaw self-consciously, wondering if he’d missed sleep drool or a sock in his hair or something on his mad rush out the door but, two steps past, the youngest kid snuffles and speaks up, soft: “Are you gonna come see the moon with us?”

It takes another step for Stiles to register that she’s talking to him, but by the time he blinks back the boy’s already tutting at her.

“No Lucy. He’ll go with his own pack.”

The little girl’s mouth opens in a wide, understanding O, while her older sister tugs proudly on her yellow circle shirt. It’s painted a messy black in the middle, inside the bright golden edge, and Stiles kind of forgets coffee for a minute in the face of actual werewolf children and then there’s a woman stepping up behind them, coffee and a box of munchkins in hand, dropping a fond hand to ruffle the boy’s hair as she gives Stiles an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, they’ve never been through another pack’s territory before. We’ve been driving since Arizona –– long trip for the little ones. But I couldn’t miss the chance for them to experience this. Best sighting until totality in 2017!”

“I’ll be ten,” says the boy, in the tone of one who’s done the math very carefully a dozen times over.

Stiles nods, a little lost because werewolf toddlers, and manages “well that’s… good.”

“I’m two,” the youngest puts in proudly, vaguely missing the thread of the conversation but eager to take part, and Stiles smiles back, wishing he had a little more coffee in his system because it’s not like he’s oblivious about what’s going on in the world this weekend, but he’s starting to feel a little dense for not connecting all kinds of dots sooner.

Then again, there’s another person who probably could’ve connected them for him.

“They don’t know how lucky they are,” the woman adds, beaming down. “I had to wait years for my first one and I’ll never forget the experience. Of course, you won’t feel it the same way as us,” her tone going apologetic, “but I’m sure your pack can’t wait to take part.”

And then she’s ushering the kids out the door with promises of donuts in the car, and Stiles is tugging out his phone, pulling up Derek Hale’s number.

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BTS Reaction - It’s your birthday and your present is..

Anon request: ‘its your birthday and they want to give you birthday sex’

I’m sorry, it’s kind of shitty, but here it is

..sex. It was your birthday and what was a better present than he himself?

Namjoon

You had never spoken a word about your birthday, but Namjoon knew it was today as he invited you to a fancy restaurant without mentioning it either. He had planned to give you a special present, but had forgotten to actually buy it hence he saw no other choice but to give you something different. At home you were pushed down the couch, his hands fidgeting with his belt. “Happy birthday, baby”, grinning down at you with his opened pants, his cock pulled out he arched one brow up. “Ofc, I knew. And now take care of your present, baby.”

Jin

Jin wasn’t sure if the bouquet of red roses was enough for your first birthday you had spent together, his nervousness showing while you talked casually to your friends who you invited over for the day. After he had joked around and brought the cake, Jin was strangely quiet as to why you leaned in, asking what was wrong. And just then he grabbed your wrists gently, his lips pressed to your ear. “Wanna unwrap your real present, y/n? You just have to wait a bit longer though”, he would whisper, gliding your hand over his crotch.

Hoseok

Hoseok was kinda clingy on your birthday, feeling high from your bright smile as you received one great present from the boys after the other, his own still unknown to you. The boys joked about him and the lack of presents, but as he saw your face tinged in a sudden disappointment, he grabbed your hand. “It’s way too early for it, but we need to go. I have to give y/n her birthday present!”, Hoseok rushed to the back of your apartment, closing the door and pressing you to the cold surface. “I couldn’t wait any longer, babe.”

Yoongi

Grinning tiredly Yoongi sat on the couch, watching you drink with the other guys before he decided that it was time to give you your birthday present. It was after twelve and that meant it was your birthday now. Without a word he got hold on your wrist, pulling you behind him while six pairs of eyes stared at him. Inside his room he’d get on his knees, pulling your panties down with a growl. “Happy birthday, kitten. It’s a one time thing, okay?”, Yoongi’s flushed cheeks betrayed him as he saw you bite your bottom lip with a smile, his tongue latched on your clit hastily.

Jimin

“Candles? Check. Roses?..check”, Jimin observed your bedroom with a grin on his face. You would be so happy if- “Jimin?” Turning around with wide eyes he saw you standing in the door, your hair a mess from the wind, your body wrapped in a big jacket. You were damn early today! He wanted to surprise you on your birthday, but that seemed to fail.

“Princes, ha-happy birthday”, he scratched his neck, walking slowly towards you while opening his shirt, letting it fall off of his shoulders, trying to save the situation smoothly whereas pulling you inside, his foot closing the door..

Taehyung

Tae had totally forgotten your birthday as you announced that your parents would come around six for some dinner at yours. His brown eyes would widen in shock, heart dropped to the floor. “Birthday? Today, jagi? Are you sure?” Feeling miserable because of your excited, bright smile he looked at the clock, counting the one hour you two had while unbuttoning his shirt. Confusion lacing your face as Tae pushed you back, your ass hitting the dinner table. Wordless he peeled you out of your dress, pleasuring you for almost an hour if there wasn’t the sound of voices in front of your door. “Happy birthday, jagi. I’ll do a lot more to you after they’re gone.”

Jungkook

Jungkook stared at the time, eight in the morning, while his view constantly flew to your small body beside him. It was your birthday and he still had no present, too concerned about what you might want and had to leave you in two hours for tour. “Baby”, caressing your face his finger slid further down, eyes darkening as he saw that you were still naked under the sheets, an idea creeping into his mind. Smirking he started to press his lips on your neck, kissing you awake before his hand slipped between your legs. “You better wake up, baby. Your present it ready”, Jungkook’s low voice growled into your ear, his free hand pulling you close, your eyes opened a crack with a huge grin on your lips he hungrily kissed.

do me a favor?

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Captain America) x Reader (Avenger)

Summary: The Reader is a new Avenger, living with the Avengers, everything’s going fine. Except they tease her for being only 21 and the youngest of them all, by calling her baby.

Warnings: daddy kink, unprotected sex (don’t do this), big age difference

Note: Excuse my bad english, if you find any mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them. Thank you.

Enjoy reading!

Originally posted by your-kylie-me

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Birthday boy

A one shot with a surprise birthday party and a sub Harry

WARNING: SMUT

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Cheater? (Reggie x Reader)

Request: could you maybe do a reggie and reader imagine where they have been dating for years but he cheats on her and they break up he tries to win her back but she keeps shooting him down but she has a bad fight with her mom and she doesn’t know where else to go to so she goes to reggie’s and he comforts her and they talk and get back together


 You couldn’t get the image out of your head. The thought of Reggie kissing someone that wasn’t you made you sick to your stomach. It was a painful reminder why you didn’t go to party in the first place. Nothing good ever happens when teens have alcohol.  It what ended your relationship with him, you couldn’t trust him anymore.

“Babe I’m sorry I didn’t mean it, I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing”  Reggie begged you and tears were forming in his eyes. He didn’t want all of the years that you guys been together to end over some stupid drunken mistake that he had made.

“Please stop Reggie, it’s too late we’re over” You said as tears were falling down your cheeks, you loved him but you couldn’t have him anymore. You felt like all of your air was getting pulled out of you as you try to breath through the tears.

“We can fix it Y/N, don’t give up on us, not yet” Reggie pleaded he was losing you, something that he never thought was possible and it was his own fault.

“You already did Reggie” You let out while your voice was cracking “You broke us”

You sat down at you lunch table, facing away from the football team so you didn’t have to look at Reggie. Betty looked at you as you sat down on side of her, you never sat there. But it came to her mind when she heard the football team laughing from behind her. Reggie, was why you were sitting there.

“You okay?” Betty asked as you finally settle down in your place. You phoned her the night you guys broke up so she knew what had happened.

“Peachy” You said as you took a bite of your sandwich, listening to Veronica and Kevin conversion.

“So Y/N” Veronica started to say as she turned her head to face you “What’s with Reggie and you?” You looked at her figuring Betty already told her but you guessed not.

“Nothing” Veronica leaned over the table and teased

“Come on now Y/N, you don’t just break up with someone like Reggie for no reason. So what is it? Did you start a new high school affair? You lost your breath at Veronica’s last few words. It was hitting to close to home for you. Pushing your tray forward, you quickly got up grabbing your things. Not wanting to let anyone see your tears fell, you ran away to go hide somewhere in the school.

“I told you not to say anything Veronica” Betty shouted just enough so them at the table could heard it.

“I didn’t think much of it, what happened.”

“Reggie cheated on her V” Betty told her as she rolled her eyes, leaving to go find you in the school. When you ran out you didn’t see Reggie watching you. He knew you were gone to cry about what he assumed to be him. He knew you better than anyone, one little look at you he could tell that you were broken. He was the one that caused it and now he wanted to be the one to fix it.


“Hey can we talk?” You heard a voice said as you put your books away. You looked up and came face to face with the last person you wanted to see, Reggie.

“There’s nothing to talk about” You told him as you shut your locker. You looked down the hallway looking for Betty, so you could leave. You didn’t think you could look at Reggie yet, it hasn’t been that long. Plus you were sacred that if you did, you would fall into his arms since you miss him so much.

“Us. That’s what we need to do, not just ignore each other” Reggie said as he ran his fingers through his hair. He was frustrated with himself mostly, knowing that he wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for himself.

“There isn’t an us anymore Reggie, get over it because I have” You left Reggie standing there as you saw Betty so you could go home. You knew he knew you were lying after all no one knew you better than Reggie did.


“THEY NEED TO BE BETTER” Your mother shouted as you guys and your father stood in the living room.

“Mom their fine, one B isn’t going to hurt” You said. Your parent or more like your mom have been yelling at you over the past hour for the B that you got biology. It wasn’t hard to bring it back up and you knew that but your mother wouldn’t listen.

“DON’T TALK BACK TO ME YOUNG LADY” Your mother said as she made her way closer to you. “You live under my house and as long as you do there will be no talking back. B’s aren’t for this family, if you want to be something in life honey you have to get A’s. Your pretty face can only take you so far in life. Men aren’t going to stick around once it disappears for a women who get’s B’s.”

“Honey I thin-” Your dad try to cut in but your mother kept talking not wanting to hear his opinions. It was normal thing for your family, your dad was just to sacred too stand up to your mother.

“You heard me, you will be nothing in life if you keep acting like this. Leave, go on I can’t bare to look at you anymore. You’re a sorry excuse for a daughter.” When you heard your mother’s words you ran out of the house. Tears were flowing but it was nothing new to you lately that’s all you ever seem to be at. You needed somewhere to stay for the night but most importantly you needed someone to talk to you. You never really told your friends about how strict your mother was, only Reggie knew. At this point you didn’t care what had happened to just wanted to see him

Standing on his front porch you knocked, hoping that he was going to be the one to open it. You didn’t want his parents to see you looking like a mess. They would wonder what happened and would start asking questions.

“Y/N” Reggie said as he opened the door taking in your appearance. Your hair was out a place and you had been crying. He could tell from your bloodshot eyes and your wet cheeks. Not saying anything he opened his arms letting you fall into him. You cried into his chest as he carried you up to his room. He knew it was something with your mom, you wouldn’t just come to fix what he broke. He held you for what felt like hours, comforting you making sure you were alright. Not asking questions since he knew you would talk when ready. It take didn’t much longer for your tears to stop falling. You finally lifted your head up from Reggie chest and looks into his brown eyes.

“It’s my mom” Reggie nodded he knew it was but he let you keep talking “I was having trouble with biology and ended up getting a B. Mom wasn’t happy when she saw the mark and started to yell at me. Saying things like I’m just a pretty face and will never make it in life.” You rolled you eyes at your mom stupidly. “It’s one mark that she can’t see pass, she told me to leave so I did so we could both cool off.” Knowing that was the best option, you and your mother were too much alike to be together when mad.

“Not that I mine having you here or anything but why me? I thought you hated me” Reggie let out nervously, not knowing if he wanted your true answer. You smiled

“I could never hate you Reggie, I love you but it’s just so hard” You said leaning on his side. “Love is hard and I didn’t really know how to react. You kiss her and I..I know you didn’t mean it I was there, you were so drunk. I think when it happened I was lost, I felt so many emotions. I hated you for a moment but I couldn’t stay mad when I saw the regret and guilt in you eyes even as drunk as you were. I love you Reggie that’s not going to change, I just needed time to think and get through it all”

“I love you too, I’m sorry again for the pain I caused. It really broke my heart knowing I was the one who did that.”

“I know so ummm would you try again with me?” Reggie looked at you shocked not expecting that from you.

“Yeah I would love too I promise nothing is going to happen again”

“The only thing is we’re going to start from beginning I got to gain your trust back.”

“Yes anything babe” Reggie had a grin across his face, he’s never felt happier to have a second chance before in his life. You smiled once again at him before you leaned back onto his bed.

“Lay with me for awhile?”

“Of course love” So there you two stayed cuddle into each other’s arms. Both of you guys were happy to be back with one another. You both drifted off from the comfortable silence in the room. It was the first full night sleep you guys had since the break up. You guys were finally back where you belonged. And you couldn’t wait to stay there forever.

BTS Reaction - Having an argument and them calling you ‘Noona’

Seokjin

You love Jin, you do, but sometimes he can be so self-absorbed.  He’s always been independent too, almost to a fault, and it’s a combination of these two things that lead to the first real argument in your relationship.  There’s no screaming and shouting, but when he tells you that he’s agreed to lengthen their next tour by two whole weeks without even consulting you, it leads to the development of a very cold shoulder and a lot of tense silences.  He doesn’t even understand why you’re upset either, and that just makes it worse.  It’s not about him being away - you know that it’s all part of dating an idol – it’s the fact he didn’t even think to run it past you.  He gets it eventually, but by the time he does you’re too stressed out to even want him near you.  He disappears for a while, giving you your space, only to reappear again with a plate of food in hand and a sheepish look on his face.

“I made you your favourite.” You ignore him, not looking up from your book. “Please come eat with me, Noona.”  

Your lips betray you on hearing him use the honorific you love, twitching into a smile at your page.  Self-absorbed yes, but Jin always knows exactly how to wrap you round his little finger. 

Originally posted by rrapmonstur

Yoongi

You’re going to kill him, and this time you mean it.  Once again you’ve come home from work to find the apartment an absolute mess, the bed unmade, Yoongi’s clothes strewn all over the floor, dirty plates on the side.  The culprit, of course, is nowhere to be seen; he’s busy in his studio, flexing his creative muscles and leaving you to all the chores.  He must think you’re an idiot, or his mother, either one, and you’re not sure which of them makes you madder.  You stomp into his studio with an armful of his dirty underwear and drop it straight into his lap, yelling at him to do his own damn laundry.  You’re not his maid, so he needs to stop treating you like one.  You’re still muttering angrily under your breath half an hour later as you cook yourself dinner, making sure there’s only enough for one out of spite when you hear Yoongi creep into the kitchen behind you.  

“Noona,” he calls softly, and despite how angry you are you feel some of the tension leave your body, melting future when you feel his slim arms wrap around your waist from behind.  He knows exactly what calling you that does to you - the way it makes your insides clench with excitement.

“I cleaned up in our room… made our bed.  How about we go mess it up again?” 

Originally posted by baenqtan

Hoseok

Hobi’s a big ball of friendly sunshine, always has been and probably always will be.  Hell, it’s one of the things that first attracted you to him.  The only trouble is that his sunny disposition attracts a lot of other women too, women that don’t realise that friendly is Hoseok’s default setting, and that him smiling at them doesn’t mean he’s in any way interested in getting into their pants.  Your temper finally snaps when yet another fan fawns over him, draping herself over his arm as she giggles.  You snap at him that you’re going home, imaginary steam pouring out of your ears when you hear the girl ask him what his big sister’s problem is and ignoring him as he calls after you, not wanting you to get a taxi on your own.  You do anyway, seething with jealousy that’s still going strong by the time he comes in through the door an hour later, looking nervous.  He pulls a big bunch of flowers out from behind his back, thrusting them at you with an over-the-top smile.  

“Don’t be jealous Noona,” he pleads, sitting himself next to you on the sofa when you take the flowers from him, smelling them with a reluctant smile.  He’s always used that honorific since the very day you met, and you have fond memories of how hard you blushed the first time you heard it.  He presses a sweet kiss against your cheek, already knowing he’s forgiven.

“You know you’re the only girl for me.” 

Originally posted by oneversehobi

Namjoon

You’re getting ready to go out for the night and Joonie’s got that look on his face again – the one that he gets whenever he’s taking issue with what you’re wearing.  Tonight it’s the top you’ve put on; it’s cut too low, he says.  He’s stood leant against the door with his arms folded, glaring at you when you refuse to change.  You try to remind him that you’ve been going out dressed the same way for years before you met him and that you can take care of yourself, but it does no good, he’s still sulking by the time you leave.  When he refuses to answer your texts whilst you’re out you end up getting pissed off too.  You’re supposed to be having a good time with your friends, but now you can’t stop worrying about what’s going to be waiting for you when you get home.  As it is, he’s already in bed when you return, all the lights switched off, your bedroom silent.  You change into your pyjamas, lying yourself in bed as far away as possible from him with a huff, knowing that you won’t sleep well tonight.  All of a sudden you feel his solid form shuffling up behind you, his face pressing between your shoulder blades, his arm hooking over your waist.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you quietly.  “You just looked so gorgeous, Noona.  I don’t anyone to take you away from me.” Joonie’s voice is so sweet and sincere than you just can’t stay mad at him, especially when he calls you the name he saves for strictly special occasions.  He trails teasing kisses along your shoulder, his hand drifting downward along your stomach.

“Let me make it up to you?”

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Jimin

You were expecting Jimin to be home about three hours ago.  The dinner you’ve made him has gone cold, the film you were supposed to watch together is over and done with.  He hasn’t given you any kind of head’s up that he’d be late, he’s not answering your calls or your texts, and for a while you’re really worried that something might’ve happened to him; until you check his social media page, that is.  He signed into a bar somewhere about two hours ago, and only an hour after that there’s a picture of him with the other members with drinks in hand, a smile on his face, and you’re certainly not worried anymore.  Oh no, you’re not worried.  You.  Are.  Pissed.   By the time he stumbles in the door, swaying slightly, you’re practically foaming at the mouth.  You start yelling at each other, Jimin’s famous temper exacerbated by alcohol, you calling him immature, him calling you boring, and by the time he’s stormed off into your bedroom slamming the door behind him you’ve got tears streaming down your face.  You wait it out for at least an hour, hoping that he’ll have fallen into a deep, drunken sleep, but when you push open the bedroom door the slip of light from the hallway illuminates Jimin sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped.  He’s been crying just as much as you, and when you walk over to him he slips off the bed and kneels at your feet, wrapping his arms around your calves and pressing his cheek to your thighs.

“I know I’ve been bad Noona,” he sniffles, wiping his face on your skirt and then looking up at you, everything about him screaming submission.  Jimin only calls you Noona when he wants you to take control, when he wants to be your baby boy, and hearing him say it gets you wet instantly.  “You can punish me, if you want.”

Originally posted by jiyoongis

Taehyung

At the start of the day you’re feeling pretty hopeful.  You’ve been dropping hints about your birthday for the past few weeks - the things you’d like or where you’d like to go - and though Tae doesn’t initially wish you a ‘Happy Birthday’ when you first wake up beside him, you’re pretty sure he’s just pretending so it’ll be more of a surprise when he does something special later.  As the day goes on, however, it seems less and less likely that he’s remembered at all.  You spend the entire day slobbing around the apartment together, Taehyung not even bothering to shower or get dressed, just enjoying well-earned time off without the slightest of ideas that today has any kind of significance.   You know he’s always got his head in the clouds, his mind on a different plane to everyone else’s, but surely you’re not expecting too much to want him to remember your birthday?  As the evening draws to a close he finally starts to notice how quiet you’ve been, asking what’s wrong and gawping when you burst into tears.  You press your face into your hands, managing to tell him through sobs what it is that he’s done wrong.  He’s instantly remorseful, trying to pull you into a hug despite your resistance to be held.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bad boyfriend,” he apologises, planting kisses on the top of your head as you cry against his chest,  “I’ll try harder, I promise.  I just need my Noona to teach me how.” 

Originally posted by chokaivlicious

Jungkook

If he starts one more game of Overwatch you’re going to scream.  He’d promised that tonight would just be the two of you, and yeah, ok, the other members aren’t here, but you weren’t really planning on sharing him with his Xbox friends either.  You try subtle means of getting his attention; sitting next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder or gently playing with his hair with a coy smile.  Jungkook unfortunately remains completely oblivious, and after another half an hour and one more match you finally get up with a huff, collecting your things and walking out of the apartment to go home without a word.  You can’t help but wonder how long it actually took for him to notice that you were gone.  It was at least half an hour, because that’s the time it takes for him to text you asking where you are and why you left so suddenly - a text that you pointedly ignore.  It’ll do him good to see how it feels being the one who’s ignored, for a change.  When you come home the next day you’re surprised when your mom tells you that you’ve got a visitor upstairs, a wide, mischievous smile on her face, and your surprise only grows when you push open your bedroom door to find Jungkook inside.  He’s spread out a blanket on your floor and set out a plates and glasses, poorly made sandwiches and fruit in plastic containers sat waiting for you to have your very own personal picnic.  

“I haven’t been paying you enough attention, have I, Noona?”  Jungkook asks guiltily, throwing in the honorific that you both so love as he gazes up at you from where he’s sat cross legged on the floor.  He extends his hand to you with a hopeful smile, that smile growing when you take it, allowing him to help you to the floor too.  “You’ve got my 100% attention tonight, promise.” 

Originally posted by hobeui

anonymous asked:

“the woman who has his damndelion heart" Oh my god this was amazing! So cute . I loved it so much. Is there going to be a next part?

Aww hun my heart is bursting from your kind words, thank you so much! I don’t think I’m going to write a part III anytime soon since I had a bit of difficulty writing part II haha … maybe sometime in the future I will pick up the story but who knows. I will, however, leave you with this little blurb I had written as part of the series but never actually put it into the story. I’d imagine it fit right in between Braids and Excuses


Catnap  💤

When he finds you on the couch, a few hours later, reading your anatomy textbook, he sighs from relief at the familiar sight (and the peace and quiet). Anne had graciously offered to shift the reunion to the backyard to give you a quiet place to study even though you had originally asked to go the library for a few hours. The clangs of glasses echoed slightly from outside, but you didn’t seem to mind, lost in your own world from the way you hadn’t noticed Harry plopping himself next to you, laying his head on your comfortable shoulder while crossing his arms in an exhausted sigh.

“Love?”  

You refused to indulge him, determined to finish this week’s chapter.

“Pet?” 

The feeling of his curls rubbed sweetly against your neck as he peered up to look at you (damn him).

Muppet?

“Harry!” you snapped stretching his name in annoyance. “Jus’ give me a sec.” You took a deep breath to calm yourself as you flipped a page of your book roughly, eyes still concentrating on your readings. 

“Hmm,” a familiar accusing tone surfaced in his groggy voice, “someone’s gettin’ snippy…”

His comment was ignored once again, but he didn’t mind. He felt quite smug at the moment. The ever so patient Y/N had crumbled slightly in the depths of his over-eager family (despite him triggering the hindrance).

“She lasted longer than anyone,” Harry thought to himself, eyes grazing over the complicated words of her book. His eyes dropped slightly, as a deep wave of exhaustion over took him. He gazed over to his family through the glassed doors, his sister was holding Jamie in her arms and he was grateful for the moment of peace without the little one. He loved her to bits of course, but she exhausted the wits out of him. He closed his eyes, finally, as a deep slumber over took his body.

Keep reading

“I need a place to stay.” Fp Jones x Reader

TITLE - “I need a place to stay.”
WARNINGS - Swearing, Sexual Scenes, Blood.
WORD COUNT - 2,686
A/N - So I couldn’t kind of get this idea out of my head and after such an overwhelming response for little ol’ me on my last one shot, I just knew I had to post another. This is one of my favourites. So I really hope you like it. Let’s just say things get kind of hot…


Slamming the door loudly and in distress, you stormed down the metal steps and down onto the dirt below. You were furious right now. Your whole body was shaking with the adrenaline that was circling around your body. You couldn’t even see anything but red. And that wasn’t just from the blood that was dripping down from the forehead.

You couldn’t believe what had happened tonight. Actually you could. Because it was a disaster waiting to happen. Like a volcano waiting to erupt and it did tonight. The explosion had just occurred right in front of your very eyes and you were cut up in the cross fire.

Bringing your head up to the sky, almost to ground yourself back down from the anger, you saw the darkness above. Almost similiar to the one in your body right now. But this one had large gloomy clouds covering it, the heavy rain now starting to lash down covering the floor below, just as much as the ones in your eyes wanted to do.

But you couldn’t do that here. You couldn’t break down the way you wanted to out here in the open. You had to go to the only place you could seek refuge for the rest of the night.

Shaking your head, you took a deep breathe and began your journey across the park, your eyes staring intently ahead, trying to ignore the rain splashing around you, as well as any watchful gazes from those who were still up and out, even in the early hours of the morning.

Once you reached your destination, your hands gripped around the metal railing and you forced your muddy covered boots up the steps to the front door. Bringing your bloody fist up to the door, you winced as you knocked on it a few times, hoping they were home and would be able to help.

Because you needed them. Maybe way more than you knew you did. But still. You needed him.

Within a matter of moments, the door to the trailer opened up quickly and an irritated looking man stood behind it, but once he saw it was you stood there, clothes drenched from the rain, blood covering several parts of your body and a look of desperation on your face, it softened.

“I need a place to say.” You told him, your voice soft and your words more of a demand than a suggestion.

Stepping away from the door, Fp allowed you to come inside, not even wanting an explanation as to why, because even just seeing you in this state was enough to make him want to bring you inside and help you through whatever was going on.

But he had a good idea what had caused her so much sorrow tonight.
Coming into the trailer, you went straight over to the cool box in the living room and brought a beer out. Quickly you snapped the lid off of the bottle and took a large swig from the liquid, whilst Fp stood against the side of the wall watching you curiously.

You avoided his eyes on you as you came and took a seat down on the couch, your hands still shaking and your breathing heavy, but now you could just sit down and chill out for a moment, in the safety of this mans home, you knew you would be in a better place soon.

Fp left you for a moment by yourself, you presumed to let you have a moment to calm down, but when he came back through with first aid kit, you knew what was going to come next. It wasn’t just going to be him healing your physical wounds, he would want to know the rawness you felt inside too.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He asked as he came over to you.

You shrugged your shoulders at him, “Depends what you want to hear.”

“The truth would be a good start.” Fp bent down in front of you, before he laid the box down on the table behind and opened it up.

“Let’s just say the destruction we all knew what was waiting to happen did finally happen tonight.” You kept your answer brief.

Fp raised his brows up at you slightly, as he brought out some rubbing alcohol to clean your wounds, “You talking about your sister-in-law?”

“Yeah, that bitch.” You grumbled, before taking another swig out of your beer as Fp took hold of your wrist.

“Your brother find out about the affair?” He began to dap the cuts on your knuckles lightly with some cotton, but even that caused you to wince and stop drinking your beer.

Fp rolled his eyes to look at you after hearing your sudden reaction to what he was doing, it wouldn’t have been the first time his touch had sent you over the edge, but that was a story for another time.

“Yep,” You rubbed your lips together uneasily, from both the memories of the last couple of hours, but also from the stinging on your skin, “he saw it with his own two eyes down at the Whyte Worm.”

“And how did he react?” Fp then questioned, before he went to change the cotton for the next wound.

“How do you think he reacted?” You spat back at him, not aiming your anger towards him, but at this whole messy situation, “he was pissed, Fp. He flipped. I flipped.”

“I can see that.” He couldn’t help but smirk, as he brought his face up to meet with yours.

You rolled your eyes at his amusement towards your choice of retaliation, about to go take another sip from your beer, when you suddenly felt his fingers graze the top of your forehead, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face and your gaze fell straight onto his.

Looking back at him, you felt your stomach drop slightly at his touch on you, his fingers so light and gentle on your face, the last time they had been like that had been many weeks ago, things hadn’t been this close between you two for a long time and it felt just as good as it always did.

But this time it was different. So different. So much had happened.

Noticing your reaction to what he did, Fp tried to ignore the tension now rising in the room and went back to caring for your wounds, as he dabbed the cut on your forehead, where your sister-in-law had thrown a glass at you and it had just skimmed across your skin before crashing into the wall behind.

Swallowing away the lump that had formed in your throat, you cleared it quickly and went back to retelling the story, “She followed us back here. She tried to get him to forgive her and take her back. And I’m sure at one point he was going to, until I stepped in and told her to go, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer..”

Fp finished cleaning the wound, before he leant over and took some gauze tape out of the box, before he began to stick it over the cut on your forehead, wanting to make sure you would heal nicely, both on the outside and in, so he just let you continue on.

“So I tried to drag her out of the trailer, but she just wouldn’t leave, so my brother stepped in, but even his attempts failed, because everytime she kept coming back and trying to worm her way back into his head,” You explained further, as you leant across to put your half drunken beer on the table,

But Fp took it back off and took a swig out of himself, this story enough to make anyone wanting to drink away the drama, but also because he couldn’t deal with this sexual atmosphere that was still lingering in the background at such a serious time.

He wasn’t even sure you felt it too.

But you could. And you did feel it. So very much. It was so strong.

“And I just lost it,” You said as Fp’s eyes came back onto you and his eyes trailed down to the blood that was seeping through your t-shirt, specks of it peeking out the top round the neckline on your skin, so close to where your chest and cleavage were,

And there was that tension, it grew more and more, with just a simple look.

“I-i-i just flipped….”

You found yourself now lost for words, as your eyes met with his once more, your chest tightened and your stomach began to churn with excitement and nerves, the way Fp was looking at you was sending you over the edge.

This man. He made you forget everything. He made you feel so alive even in the dark. Fp jones had you so good.

“I..” Fp even found himself struggling to form a sentence, before he cleared his own throat huskily, “w-what happened there?”

“Uh,” Your gaze dropped down to your chest, where Fp’s own kept moving from your face and to this area of your body, before you confessed what else happened  "that’s not my blood. It’s hers.“

Fp couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, whether it was a nervous one or just one of humour to hear this, "What? What did you do to her?”

“Don’t worry she’s still alive and walking, I mean, just about anyway…” You explained with a small smirk, as you stood up and shrugged yourself out of your leather biker jacket, “I could have done a lot worse.”

“Not a doubt in my mind.” He smirked, as he watched you walk round and headed over to the kitchen.

“Do you think I could borrow a shirt? I mean, I’ll give it back, but I don’t fancy having that snakes blood on my body for a second more.” You said, as you daringly took off your t-shirt to reveal your red lacy bra.

Fp’s eyes lit up slightly to see you stood there, bloody shirt in one hand, the other on your hip, the lacy garment covering your chest, but Fp knew what was behind there, and you knew how teasing this would be for him, but it made all more fun and you needed some fun.

“I take that as a yes.” You spun round on your hip and began to walk through to his room, when you felt his hands quickly wrap around your waist and stop you from moving any further.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his large and warm hands on your body again, his skin touching your own, for the first time in a long time and it felt so damn good to feel it again, it sent shivers to erupt over your skin and this time round, Fp knew what he was doing to you.

“You might have not killed that girl tonight,” He whispered huskily in your ear from behind you, as your teeth grazed against your bottom lip, trying to fight off the uncontrollable smile that was going to plaster all over your face, “but you’re definitely killing me..”

Slowly spinning round to face Fp, your gently laid your hands down on the black t-shirt that covered his chest and looked up at his face, his frame towering over your slightly, “Fp Jones, I thought we agreed..”

“Screw the agreement,” He hissed back at you, looking around your whole face with a smile, “I’m glad you came here, (y/n).”

“Me too.” You smiled back.

A few weeks ago, well many weeks ago, after the last time you had given into the feelings you two had discovered you shared for each other, you had agreed to stay away from each other to try let things simmer out.

Fp was still married to Glady Jones, his wife and he had two children, a son and a daughter, who were still kids. It wasn’t fair on them to rip the family apart more than it already had been. And you respected them all enough to stay away.

But tonight had been so different and hard not to run back to Fp. He had promised to be there for you when you needed him. The same way you told him you would be there when he was ready.

Yet things had happened tonight. And there was no way you wanted to wait a second longer. It had put too much in perspective. You wanted to be with Fp Jones. You needed to be.

Letting go of you, Fp took off the black and white plaid shirt that was covering his upper body and handed it over to you. You went to take it from him, wanting to put it on and wear his shirt, when he moved it away stopping you doing so.

Frowning back at him in confusion, Fp shook his head with a small chuckle, “not yet. We still need to finish cleaning you up first.”

Without even giving you a chance to respond and question him, Fp quickly picked you up and held you high with his hands on the backs of your thighs, your hands came around his neck as you giggled helplessly.

He lowered your body slightly, so your face came into the same level his, before he leaned a little closer, your faces inches apart, as you sighed and felt the tension rise once more. Your eyes teasingly flickered from his eyes down to his lips, wanting to test the water and see if this was what he truly wanted tonight.

Because this was what you wanted. This was what you needed more than anything.

Catching your gaze with his own, Fp broke the gap between the two of you and kissed you, gently and slowly at first, but as he felt you sigh into the kiss and pull him closer, he turned up the heat and embraced you passionately.

Carrying your body and his own out of the kitchen, Fp went over to his bathroom and pulled open the door, he began to take off his shoes as he continued to kiss you, and you kissed him back just as hard, your hands tangling round the back of you, were you took off your bra and let it slide down onto the floor below.

Pulling out of the kiss, Fp grinned back at you as you did the same, before moving your lips onto his jaw, kissing along his stubble as your fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck, knowing it would send him over the edge as he struggled to turn on the shower beside the two of you.

Once the water was on and working, Fp carefully stood your body back down onto the floor, as you slipped out of your own shoes, whilst he began to take off his pants. You couldn’t help but step back over to him, stopping him from going any further and instead you began to take off his shirt.

The garment dropped to the floor seconds later, before your hands trailed down from his smooth chest and onto his stomach, one of your favourite parts of his whole body, the way it felt up against your own naked body was one of the most comforting things.

Breaking that space between the two of you again, you kissed Fp strongly before you motioned him towards the shower cubicle. Not wanting to waste another moment, Fp picked you back up and stepped under the water with you.

Just like the rain that was crashing down outside. The water collided with your bodies, the two of you still stood in your jeans, but your bare chest exposed and touching, as Fp brought you to your feet again.

The kiss never breaking, not even once, as the water began to wash away the drama of that night, making way for the sun that would rise in the morning, one that was full of warmth and security in the only place you wanted to stay, where Fp also wanted you to stay.

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Sixteen- Dean x Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

“It’s ok to be rough with me sometimes Dean.  I’m not made of glass.”

The Virgin and The Sex God: Chapter Sixteen 

Summary: Dean finds out you’re a virgin and begins to try to charm his way into your pants. Little does he know he’s about to fall in love. 

Word Count: 2,200
Warnings:  Language. Flangst.  Some adult content. 

Feedback is always appreciated. ;)  SO YEP.  I can’t get enough of these two.  I fucking ship them, lol.  Anyone else ship them?  No just me?  I just wanted to make the announcement that I will be writing both a prequel and a squeal to this series.  Look for “Ps.  I never told you.”  Soon.  It’s the story of how they met.   But what do you think of this chapter?  Are you ready for table sex?  She’s a coming.   Special thanks to @wotinspntarnation​ for her help with this chapter!  I am also taking suggestions for sexy time funs.  You know like blindfolds, being tied to the bed, DOM!Dean, DOM!Reader, Roleplay… Etc. Hit me up in my ask if you have a suggestion or message me gif.  I’m on vacation so dirty ones are ok.  lol

TAGS: I AM STILL ACCEPTING TAGS FOR THIS SERIES. I HAVE ROOM FOR ABOUT 30 MORE PEOPLE.  :)  Please send me an ask to be added. 
Thank you and happy reading,
Kristina 

I’m so addicted to all the things you do  
When you’re rollin’ round with me in between the sheets  
Oh the sounds you make, with every breath you take
It’s unlike anything, when you’re lovin’ me…  
From Addicted by Saving Abel

You were a bundle of nerves as you bounced on the passenger seat of Charlotte’s mustang.  According to your GPS, you would be in Lebanon in just a few hours.  You felt like puking as the thought of seeing Dean settled itself firmly in the front of your mind.  You reached up and vigorously scratched your head and groaned.  You had no idea how to act around him with other people now.   The buzzing from your pocket caused you to jump and you quickly yanked it from it’s place.

Your eyes widened in surprise when it was Dean requesting to video chat with you. Swallowing back the nerves, you tapped the accept button and waved hello.  You watched in confusion as the smile fell from Dean’s lips instantly.  

“What the hell happened to your eye?”  He demanded as he frowned deeply.   Your eyebrows furrowed together as you gently touched the black eye a ghoul had given you the night before.  You frowned back at him before answering him.

“A ghoul punched me.”  You said with a shrug of your shoulders.   

You didn’t really understand Dean’s sudden change in demeanor, but ever since you had left from Kentucky, he had been texting you to lecture you.  Was your knife sharpened?  Did you have holy water?  Did you pack your shells with rock salt?   It was beginning to drive you up the wall and made you want to ask him what his damage was, but you didn’t because you knew it was coming from a place of concern.

“Damn it, Y/N.  You’ve got to be more careful.”  He grunted as his frown turned into a scowl.   

Your lips twitched a bit and you mirrored his hardening look.  Where was this coming from anyway?  He had never spoken to you like a child before and he had known you for years. 

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Jungkook Scenario: If It’s You.

Request: hello! Can I request a scenario for either jungkook, namjoon, or hoseok where he’s basically a bad boy trouble maker who everyone is scared of but secretly has a crush on a shy artist girl in his class? Like he fell for her cause she helped him a long time ago with something when no one else would and he’s just so so in love with her but super scared of scaring her off hehe. Thanks ^^

Genre: Fluff.


Jungkook stared at you throughout the class, the professor was talking about the impossibility of energy to work a certain way, some physic rule he had heard hundreds times before but still wasn’t capable of remembering quite right.  His eyes focused on you, a few rows ahead of him just by the window, you were doodling on the corners of your notebook, something Jungkook had noticed you did when you were bored. Doodles, he thought with a sigh, it was most likely an intricate design of spiral flowers that would call the eye of whoever saw it. You were really good at drawing, Jungkook knew it very well, he thought he was quite good but not nearly as you and thus he admired that, he liked the movement of your hands applying just enough pressure, the delicate shape of your wrists, he liked the way you seemed to be in your own world, and the little smile you made at end of a completed corner.

Class ended with the professor not finishing the lecture, but no one cared and people started standing up fast, Jungkook was still focused on you and how you were getting your things together to leave, until he felt someone smash an elbow on his cheek.
He groaned and didn’t care to listen the guy blabbering about it being an accident, his reaction was instantaneous as Jungkook jumped to his feet knocking the chair out of the way to grab the guy by the collar.

-What the fuck was that?- he was burning with rage, his cheek didn’t even hurt but the fact that he had been hit got him seeing lights. -You want me to beat your ass right here?-

-Jungkook man- he recognized the voice of his best friend, more like his only friend. Jimin was approaching with hands up trying to get between him and the other guy. -He said it was an accident, while standing up-

Jungkook looked at Jimin just for a second before throwing the guy to floor with another groan. -Get the fuck out-

He was breathing harshly, if it wasn’t for Jimin he would have beaten that guy up in spot, it was crazy how he reacted, even to himself, it was hard to understand how his rage worked. Jungkook saw the fallen chair and then getting back to reality his eyes went to your spot by the window once again to discover you were still there watching everything, watching him, and in your eyes Jungkook only saw disapproval, fear.

 How could he ever approach you when you surely thought he was a psycho?

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At Peace (langst)

I should be updating my Sockathan story on Wattpad but I’m not feeling so hot so have some langst.

~ songfic kinda ~

+ I’m pretty much going to be posting langst or Oikawa angst (Tangst?) when I’m in a shit mood so get ready for that +

Lance was used to being rejected; by girls and boys alike.

So he should have seen this coming. He should have been prepared for this. But no, his hopes were high and he’d thought his feelings were -finally- reciprocated. He thought he had a chance and damn it if I don’t admit it. He was desperate.

I don’t know if we should be alone together 

He was desperate for attention, and love, and the chance to finally be accepted by somebody. Anybody. A chance to have something to live for again. A chance to be able to breathe again without the thought of his worthlessness crossing his mind and settling in a nice, quaint spot labeled “REASONS TO DIE”. The cringe is real, no matter how you think of it, but Lance can’t find it in himself to care anymore, about anything.

His constant quips usually spoken -sometimes even shouted- in a flurry of passion, are now most times left unsaid, or muttered at most.

He was hoping for a miracle.

I still got a crush, that’s obvious

“Hey, Keithy boy,” Lance chirped with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. 

Keith turned to face the blue paladin, a small smile playing on his lips. “Hey, Lance,” he replied happily.

You seem unusually chipper today, Lance thought to himself.

Suddenly. Keith chuckled, startling Lance out of his ‘thought’. 

The brunette covered his lips with his hand, eyes blown wide. “Did I say that out loud?”

If nobody’s around, what’s stopping us?
Everywhere I go you show, whatever

“You sure did, Lancelot. D’ya wanna know why I’m so ‘chipper’?“ Keith asked with a slight giddiness in his tone.

“Uhm, sure?” Okay, Lance. After he tells you whatever the fuck he’s so happy about -which is making him 100% cuter and I cannot stand it- I’ll tell him I love him, and we’ll live happily ever after.

With the widest smile I’ve ever seen, on Keith no less, Keith gushed out, “Shiro and I finally started dating!”

I don’t ever mind sharing oxygen
I just wanna get lost in your lungs

I spoke far too soon. “T-That’s great, Keith!” What did I think I could accomplish? “I hope you guys are happy together!” Of course Keith would go for Shiro. “Well, I gotta go u-uh, t-train now, so see ya!” He’s perfect.

Lance began to turn away from Keith. “Wait!” The red paladin demanded, grabbing the other’s arm and keeping him in place. “Did you need to talk about something, Lance? Are you okay?”

Just a baby, but she’s growing up so fast
And I’m allergic to the waiting

“O-Of course I am! I’m the jester, the class clown, the humour back bone of the team! Who needs feeling when you have the best sense of humour known to man?” The dark haired teenager announced, his chest puffed out and his eyes full of a dark hope. Please don’t call me out on my bullshit, I need to be out of here yesterday.

Thank god Keith’s dense as hell. “Alright Lance, whatever you say,” he chuckled and released his arm.

She’s just a baby girl
And I love to watch her dance

Tears left Lance’s eyes before he even finished turning, thankfully he didn’t notice but.

That didn’t stop Shiro from noticing, who now was in front of Lance. “Lance,” the black paladin whispered, his eyes shone with concern. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Shiro reached out to touch Lance’s shoulder, but he wasn’t having it. Tanned hands pushed on Shiro’s chest, pushing him -surprisingly- a few feet away, and in the next moment, Lance was out the door, leaving the new couple in shock.

But it’s making me go crazy

In the next few months, Lance got by in a mixture of disarray and monotone. Lotor was taken down, along with the Galra empire. The new head of said empire agreed on a peace treaty and most of the universe now lived in peace. 

Voltron was not needed anymore. And so, the team was left to their own devices. 

Pidge and Matt, the only Holts left, went on to create new, advanced machinery to help Earth evolve technologically.

Keith and Shiro went to a quiet inhabited planet, where there was a drug that could evolve the bodies of men in order to conceive, so the two can start a family. 

I don’t think that we should be around each other
When you’re in the room, you get my eyes
You open your mouth, I’m hypnotized, oh oh
I can make you laugh until you cry

Allura and Coran and the castle went on to rebuild the Altean empire. 

Hunk went home to Earth, with his family. He offered Lance a spot on his small ship to get home, but he declined, claiming he had to do something before going home.

Which, of course, was a lie. Because Lance has a secret he never told anyone, and that secret was that Lance has no family. 

The photo he showed everyone so proudly? Photo-shopped. His stories of his many siblings? MTV and YouTube. His emergency contacts on his profile back at the Garrison? His supposed nostalgia? His strict parental control? His life? All fake. All a fantasy Lance had built in his head when his real parents dumped him on the side of the road at 9-years-old because he broke his arm and couldn’t work on the farm anymore. 

You know you got all my attention
You know you got all mine, mmh

He had nothing to go back to. No purpose. No one waiting for him. No one to miss and love him. 

What was he supposed to do now? Go back to the Garrison? No, it wasn’t worth it if Pidge and Hunk weren’t there. 

What else was there? 

Lance sat in his space pod in the middle of space for hours before he realized, there’s nothing else.

Lance spent a few more hours of thinking about what he planned to do next. How would it affect the others? Will they come back? How will they react?

Baby, I can’t help but call her dad
Even though I shouldn’t say it 

In the back of his mind, one thought lingered: will they even care?

The ex-paladin of Voltron decided that his choice was the right one, and carried out his plan. 

He spent the next few hours filming a personal video for every member of the team. Even Matt. 

She was my baby girl
I might never get her back
But I don’t mind being patient, yeah

Can you let your baby be my girl?

But he didn’t dare send them yet. No, he had to send them at the very last second. 

Because he needed time to himself. He needed to prepare himself. He needed to find one, just one reason for him not to follow through with his decision. 

He couldn’t find any.

Can you let your baby be my girl?
Can you let your baby be my girl?
Can you let your baby be mine? 

With a tear rolling down his cheek, Lance sent all of the video’s to their respective person’s. Hopefully, they all get them.

Okay, I’m just gonna tell you what I gotta say, right here
I’m sorry Dave, I never meant to hurt your baby girl
She’s your little baby, she’s my soulmate

The broken boy put on his helmet, and with a deep breath, opened the door that separated him from endless space.

Location didn’t mean a thing to him, as he never truly had place to call home.

I don’t want you to worry, she’ll be so safe right here
Oh, oh, oh, so Dave, would you let your baby be my girl?

Can you let your baby be my girl?

More tears poured from his eyes, as Lance took deep breaths, and let his decision sink in entirely. He had no regrets.

Can you let your baby be my girl?
Can you let your baby be my girl?
Can you let your baby be mine? 

Lance sniffled, and although he couldn’t wipe his tears, he steadied them, pulling one last strong face. With his messages sent, his loved one gone, and nothing holding him back, the broken soldier, the brave face took his final breath. Finally, he reached up to his helmet and disengaged it, sucking the oxygen out. 

One last tear fell from his face as Lance’s final sight became apparent: the blue lion, engines blasting, rushing over to her dear paladin as the final remnants of air left his lungs, and Lance found:

that he was finally at peace.

Oh, your baby she’s mine

I’m…

I’m so sorry. I was just supposed to blow off some steam but… I related to Lance. His loneliness, his perception of love, and his lack of anger. 

Rage, irritation, grief: they can’t be felt anymore.

Anyways, I was planning on writing a fic for each of the videos… what do you think? (Imma do it anyways lmao)

I hope you enjoyed this… 

BTS Reaction to You Not Minding That There Are Girls in The Highlight Reels

note // they’re nervous about how you would feel

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

jungkook ; kookie didn’t tell you that there were girls in the highlight reel because he was afraid of how you would take it so he decided to let you watch it for yourself when it released. so when it was finally out,, he sat you down and went to the youtube app, and to the video. as the video started, kookie leaned back and kept his eyes on you to see how you would react. once you saw jin’s part, your lips stretched into a smile (which relieved him) and it stayed like that throughout the whole video. “they’re pretty. i liked it” ,,as soon as kookie heard your comment, he let out a relieved sigh. “damn i thought you wouldn’t like it.” “why? you thought i’d be jealous that a girl held your hand for like five seconds or something? you holding hands with an actress doesn’t even come close to what we do so i’m chilling.” (c gif) “well shit, you’re right.”

Originally posted by 4cyphers

taehyung ; “is this what you were talking about?” you asked tae once you received a notification from bighit’s channel. tae had told you a couple hours back that something would be released and to not watch it until he was right beside you. he nodded and told you to watch it. you couldn’t tell but he was running his finger across his chin, with that nervous/blank facial expression that he always did. once you got to tae’s part of the video, you turned to him (you knew that he was waiting for you to say something). “she’s pretty.“ tae tried hiding his smile but failed which only made you laugh. “why were you acting all nervous? you didn’t even touch her. plus you’re with me, not her…unless you’re seeing her behind my back?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “of course not!”

Originally posted by bwipsul

jimin ; you and jimin were in your room laid up when you got a notification. since you were halfway asleep, you didn’t even notice so jimin went to the video himself. “y/n, the video is out.” he softly spoke as he shook you until you opened your eyes. “really? now?’ you asked, yawning. he held up your phone and nodded. *skip ahead, the video is over* "well for one, i have to tell hobi that he did great. two, you did great, and three what’s the girl’s number? she’s fine as hell hot.” (c gif) jimin’s body loosened up (because he was relieved that you weren’t jealous) as he laughed at you. “chill out!”

Originally posted by rapnamu

namjoon ; the video was finally out. namjoon’s nerves were high. and you were clueless about why he was acting the way that he had been acting all day. every time you asked him if he was okay, he’d just give you a smile and say, “i’m good.” but you still felt like there was something wrong. when namjoon was finally sitting down and on his phone, you took that time to try to dig deeper. you took his phone from him and sat in his lap. before you could ask him any questions, you noticed a video playing on the device. since it was the boys, you started it over and watched. *while wondering why tf nj didn’t do anything when you took his phone and sat in his thick lap* when the video ended, you gave the phone back to him. “i’m a little confused about everything, but the girls were beautiful and everyone’s acting was good. hell, i don’t blame you for stalking the girl, she’s a good look.” you said which made namjoon roll his eyes. “why are you like this?”

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

hoseok ; hoseok wasn’t too nervous (BuT hE StiLl WaS) because he trusted that you wouldn’t get jealous of a video. so when it was released, he called you in his studio and let you watch it. “oh there’s girls..” you said, more to yourself than to hoseok (which highkey made him a little more nervous than he already was). when it got to his part, he looked away from the screen and at you. he was eager to hear what you had to say since the only thing that you said (WitH No EmoTioNS) throughout the whole video was “oh there’s girls.." ,,,so when you saw him dancing and the video was over, you clapped your hands and smiled at him. "thank you for making me realize how gay i really am.” “what!?” hoseok asked, looking lost af but happyily laughing since you liked the video.

Originally posted by jimiyoong

yoongi ; you and yoongi were literally knocked out in bed (tired from something that happened earlier) so he had to set an alarm for the release. it had to repeat about three times before you woke up and stopped it. “yoongi..” you repeatedly said, poking him until he woke up. “it’s out.” you told him, while he sat up on his elbows and waited for you to open the video. when it got to yoongi’s part, you smirked. everything in the apartment reminded you of yours. yoongi had basically turned your home into a place that he could go to and play music, drink coffee and write music. “she’s so fucking beautiful. how can i thank her for taking that lighter from you though?” you said/asked, under your breath,, not even realizing that you had paused the video and been staring at her for almost half a minute. “ah see i knew you’d like it”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

jin ; you were sitting across from jin, watching him while he looked for something to wear when you received a noni. jin had been talking about the highlight reels for days now, he had already told you that there would be girls in the video and to not be jealous (in a joking way). as you watched the video, you did feel a little weird about it because it was their first time (having girls in their videos) in a long time,, but you were happy that they had did something fresh. “i liked it a lot. i’m so proud of you. with those acting skills you need to audition for movies and dramas.” you went over to him and kissed him wherever the hell you kissed him “thank you bay…bee (he basically said baby,, slowly)” he was the happiest guy in the world thanks to yee gas.

When You Least Expect It | 07

Warnings: sexting, phone sex, masturbation, vulgar, graphic language

Word count: 8,389

A/N: I really gotta stop rushing myself in my excitement to get this story out, it shows in the quality of it. I hope this isn’t as bad as I fear it is. TT;

Originally posted by jkookisdaddy

You must be a princess. This was the only logical conclusion you could come to.

No, you weren’t so financially inclined as to slumber atop twenty silk and mohair-stuffed mattresses every night. But, much like the beloved fairy-tale, goddamn was there something digging into your back, determined to make its presence known. Even more so when the fiendish object began to vibrate incessantly again.

It wasn’t a pea. In this rather more mundane of settings, it was your phone on its fourth attempt at rousing you. You, who was about as early a bird as a fucking owl. And, though it came at the price of having a hundred curse words levelled at it, it finally succeeded.

You dislodged the offending gadget from the small of your back and held it above your face, unwilling eyes defiantly drooping shut. An errant finger moved before the rest of your hand had caught up and—

Fuck!” you rasped with all the oral elegance of the possessed girl from The Exorcist. But, Jesus, it wasn’t undue. There was no way your gratuitously large smartphone hadn’t just obliterated the entirety of your facial bone structure. It was at least a certainty that your nose was broken.

Pincering the bridge of your nose between your thumb and fore finger, you rolled to and fro, cursing Steve Jobs to a tormented eternity in hell. The visual wasn’t unlike the agonised rocking you exhibited once a month, quite at the mercy of your murderous menstrual cramps.

Well, that woke you up.

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How the turtles react to seeing their daughter for the first time:

WARNING:NONE

Requested by: @brayden1616

How about the boys meeting their newborn daughter for the first time and getting to hold her? Plus a cute detail she has is his eye colour making her look just like daddy! 

A/N: I think I cried a little writing these :)

Leonardo:

Leo had been pacing around the lair, waiting to get a phone call from April, or Casey, to let him know everything was alright. He didn’t even know what gender his child was. You’d delivered the baby at your place, because going to the hospital wasn’t an option while birthing a potential mutant turtle baby; but due to it being day time, Leo had to stay in the lair. He hadn’t stopped pacing since Casey phoned and said you’d gone into labour, and right now it was all he could do to stop himself from charging up to the surface and finding you, not caring who saw him. 

“Leo, will you-” Donnie started, from somewhere on the other side of the room. Leo didn’t even look up at him, before he interupted. 

“No, I will not stop pacing.” He snapped, still pacing. “Not until I know everything’s alright.” 

“If you’d listened; I was about to say, Leo will you stop and look who’s here.” Donnie chuckled slightly under his breath, and, with that statement, brought his brother’s incessant walking to an abrupt halt.

Leo turned slowly, and found you standing in the entrance to the lair, with a bundle of blankets held tightly in your arms. Leo’s whole world went onto pause for that moment. He was scared, delighted, nervous and amazed all at once. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Hey,” You smiled weakly, still uneasy after the whole, giving birth thing. But you’d never been happy to see Leo in your entire life, and you couldn’t wait to present him with his child. 

“Hi,” Leo barely managed to speak, and without thinking for another second he took a few, unsure steps forward.

Peeking over the ridge of the fluffy, white blankets held in your arms, Leonardo caught a glimpse at pale green skin. He gasped unintentionally, and felt his whole body begin to tremble - that was his child. None of them had thought it would ever be possible for them to reproduce, but here it was, healthy and perfectly real. 

“It’s a girl, Leo,” You whispered, watching him edge ever so slightly closer with every second that passed. He was hesitant, you could see it in his eyes as they remained glued on your daughter. “Do you wanna hold her?” 

Leo gulped down his fears and locked eyes with you for a second. How had he been so lucky to find someone like you? He nodded carefully, and closed the gap that he’d measured between you. 

You handed him your daughter with steady arms, and watched as Leonardo’s face lit up completely. His smile grew ever wider, and as he stared down at the small, slightly green, baby in his arms, he felt tears prick his eyes.

Without warning, the baby girl woke up slowly, stretched her arms up towards Leo’s face, and made a small ‘ga-ga’ noise. To which Leo laughed softly. She had his eyes. Bright blue crystals that gazed up at him with naive awe. She was gorgeous; he’d thought he could never love anything more than you, but he, within seconds, loved this child unconditionally.

A tear or two slipped loose down Leo’s scaly cheeks, and he smiled even wider at you. “What shall we call her?” You ask with a similar smile, wrapping your arms around Leo’s torso, and looking over your child with adoration.

“What about Ellie?” He sniffs a couple times, still beaming down at this little girl that resembled him in so many ways.

“Ellie it is,” You smile, and lean up to peck his cheek. “She looks like you,” You mumble against his face, and watch his eyes drift to you.

“She looks like us,” And he kissed you on the lips this time. 

“Hey Ellie - I’m Uncle Mikey!”  A voice carried from the entrance to the lair, and in pranced Michelangelo and Casey Jones, holding a huge teddy bear. “Who’s my favourite niece?” To which little baby Ellie burst into tears, and Leo held her slightly closer to his chest with a gentle chuckle. He had a similar reaction to Mikey’s voice, for pretty much all of his life. And he never wanted to let his daughter go ever again.

Raphael: 

His brothers were starting to get worried, but they couldn’t be sure that Raphael had actually moved in the hours he’d been waiting for you to arrive. He’d been sat on the couch, with his hands balled anxiously around the other; he didn’t speak at all, he would hardly look up from the floor dead ahead of him. Leonardo sat beside him, not really doing anything, but he was there just to keep Raph from getting too anxious. 

April had phoned to say you’d gone into labour, and since that point Raphael hadn’t shifted from this spot on the couch, where he was still sat a few hours later. No one really spoke at all in those horrifically slow hours, and no one dared go near Raphael after he’d glued himself to the seat - only Leonardo, but then Leo was always at Raphael’s side, no matter the circumstances, or consequences. 

“Raph,” Leo muttered eventually, another half an hour later. His blue bandanna flapped in the corner of Raph’s vision, but he dared not tear his gaze from the floor ahead of him. He’d glared at that floor until it got up and left.

“Don’t.” Raphael spat back through gritted teeth. He didn’t mean to get aggressive, but he was just so worried and confused and terrified that anger seemed to be the default emotion. “Just don’t.”

“Well I’m not going to tell Y/N to leave, so you’re gonna have to look up eventually.” Leonardo chuckled, and watched as his brother’s face loosened in a split second. His entire body tightened and released a hundred times before his emerald eyes finally lifted. There you were, gradually walking over with a small, fragile bundle of blankets in your arms. 

Raphael physically couldn’t bring himself to move - there you were, and there it was. He didn’t even know it’s gender, but he knew it was his. A faintly green, tiny hand occasionally reached over the fluffy blanket and twitched it’s fingers randomly. Even without seeing its face, Raphael was in love more than he thought was physically possible. 

“It’s a girl, Raph,” You smiled sweetly at him - you looked weak, obviously, but Raph couldn’t even bring himself to think of you right now. All his mind could possibly comprehend was the tiny bundle of blankets in your arms. His baby girl. His daughter.

He broke down, silently, at that thought. Still unable to stand or move or speak, but the sheer idea of seeing his own child, made everything about him just want to cry. He didn’t think he could ever have children, let alone produce something so small and adorable as the daughter you held so close. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” You ask with an ever growing grin, your own eyes pricking with tears upon seeing Raphael cry. He was such a huge teddy bear, more emotional than he’d care to admit, but now he didn’t even care who was in the room, he just sat and cried.

Raphael nodded quietly, and looked towards Leo. He didn’t know why he looked at his brother, there wasn’t anything Leonardo could do to change the world pool of emotional spiralling in Raph’s stomach, but it was somewhat reassuring knowing his brother, his best friend, was still sat at his side. 

When you sat beside him, Leo’s smile grew; and Raph’s eyes glued to the small body being placed in his strong hands. Her eyes opened wide, and glowed green in the light; she had his eyes. How could she look so beautiful with his eyes, because all he ever thought of himself as was ugly and freakish, but she, she was the most brilliant thing on the planet.

“Can we call her Lucy?” He finally heaved in a breath, and dared a glance at you. You, you who was so astonishingly gorgeous and amazing, you who had captured his heart and saw something worth loving amidst all his anger. You who had given him the most amazing and beautiful creation in the entire world. 

“Of course,” You beam back, and look between the two loves of your life, already sure that Raphael would be the best father in the world.

Donatello: 

“What if something’s gone wrong?” He sighed dramatically, endlessly walking around, sitting down, and then getting up again. Mikey, who was slouched on the floor with a pizza, looked up at him and rolled his eyes.

“Dude, everything’s going to be fine! Casey said she’s alri-”

“I don’t need Casey to tell me how my girlfriend is, Mikey!” Donatello barked back, cutting his younger brother off without hesitation. “What does he know anyway? When was the last time he helped deliver a potentially mutant turtle baby? Huh? He hasn’t! Ever! So how would he know how she is?” Donatello’s voice grew higher and higher in pitch, the more frantic his words became. He was worried out of his mind, and it just so happened Michelangelo was close enough to take it out on him. He didn’t mean to be rude and abrupt, but with you and his child in potential danger, he couldn’t help but be a bit on edge.

“Wow Donnie, bit harsh.” The voice of Casey Jones echoed throughout the lair after a second of silence shared between the two turtles. In walked the hockey player with swagger in his step, as though nothing abnormal had occurred today, before he fell down beside Mikey and the uneaten pizza. 

“Where is she?” Donnie began to freak out, “Where’s the baby? Are they alright? God, Mikey, what do I do? I’m not ready to be a father! I don’t know the slightest thing about -”

“You know everything about everything, D. You are going to be an amazing dad - and you better start quickly,” Mikey nodded his head, wit a wide grin, towards the door behind the purple clad turtle. 

As Donatello turned around, you smiled up at him, holding your child carefully in your arms. Donnie’s mouth practically hit the floor upon catching sight of his child, his own flesh and blood - and potentially scales - wrapped in blankets, and within reach of him. 

“You worry too much,” You sniggered, extending the baby in his direction. You didn’t need to ask the question before Donatello’s lit up with both eagerness and nerves. It was going to take him a while to get over the initial fact of actually having created such a beautiful thing, but holding it would be the first step. “It’s a girl, Donnie.”

He took the bundle of blankets in his arms, and was met by a pair of round, red eyes gazing back at him. “She’s got my eyes,” Donnie beamed like an excitable child, or Mikey when the pizza arrives. “She’s actually got my eyes,” Those beautifully circular orbs of bright colour were the most brilliant thing Donatello had seen in his life. 

She needs a name.” You laughed, wrapping you arms around Donnie so you could stare at the two people you loved most in this world. 

“How about….” Donnie’s mind worked at a hundred thousand miles per hour to even think of what a name was, before he settled on idea: “Penny.”

“Penny?” You rose an eyebrow, but laughed nonetheless, “Penny it is.” You smile brightly up at Donnie and watch his awe filled eyes look directly at his daughter, and that was when you realised; you were never going to get that child off of him again.

Michelangelo: 

“Mikey, will you sit down? She’ll be here in a minute, just chill.” Raph groaned, lying back on the couch and watching as his orange clad brother practically bounced off of the walls. 

“What if it doesn’t like me?” He paused in his jittering, and looked solemnly at his brother for an answer, as though it were the most important question of his life. 

“It’s only just been born,” Raphael scoffed, “It hasn’t even seen you yet, how could it not like you?” 

“I don’t know, man, it might not like orange, or something,” Mikey was freaking out. He always bigged himself up, as though he’d be amazing with kids if he weren’t a turtle, but having one of his own was more terrifying than anything he’d ever faced before. And now he was but minutes away from facing his own child, and he couldn’t stop his mind form thinking up the worst case scenarios. 

“She doesn’t even know what orange is yet,” A voice said from nearby, and made Mikey whip around with impossible speed. There you were, smiling and holding a pale-green baby in a bundle of blankets. Raphael had no snarky comeback now, and neither did Mikey. Instead Michelangelo’s eyes simply grew to twice the size, and the words you’d just said rotated in his head on an endlessly loop. 

“She?” He almost whimpered, trying to comprehend the meaning of that one, simple word. It was a girl. He had a daughter. He was a dad! 

“I haven’t named her yet,” You shrugged, only noticing then how much Mikey’s face had lit up.

“Can I hold her?” He asked excitably, and reached out to take his baby girl in his arms. “I think she looks like a Kaia,” He whispered, cradling his daughter with ease. She was so small, so adorable and fragile. He’d never let go of her again, if he had her way.

“Kaia?” You giggled, amused by the awe in Mikey’s bright blue eyes.

“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” Mikey grinned. The baby’s small eyes looked up at him with a sleepy gaze, and Michelangelo’s heart fluttered at seeing the two crystal orbs sparkling back at him. She had his eyes.

“You have a point.” You reply, falling in love with Mikey all over again. His brother’s often argued he was immature, or too idiotic to be treated like an adult, but seeing him standing there, with his daughter held close to his chest, you knew he was going to prove them all wrong. 

Reunion

- Where Harry and Anne reunite after 6 years. 

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Harry didn’t sleep the night before their departure.

In fact, Harry could barely sit still for the past three days from all the anxiousness inside of him. He was already packed—already had everything he needed right beside the front door—yet he still couldn’ stop fidgeting.t

It was three in the morning when Harry decided to have a makeshift date inside their apartment. Their flight was planned to leave at 7, which ultimately lead them to spend the whole night awake due to Harry’s inevitable excitement.

They were hungry and Harry needed to do something proper for Y/n, especially after everything she had done for him. But he had already done so much for her within the past two weeks that she almost didn’t let him spend so much time making them a second dinner. 

But he just wouldn’t take no for an answer and she ultimately didn’t mind. It was quite entertaining watching him cook in quick movements, occasionally laughing at the television set as Friends played quietly in the corner. It was rare for them to have quality moments like this, and although they are together for hours every day, the spontaneous aspects of their relationship died down the more they worked.

Harry had also decorated the kitchen as much as he could. With a few spare candles, a couple supermarket flowers, a bottle of cheap wine, and the small hum of from his thrifted radio—he was really setting an ambiance that made Y/n flustered.

Harry clicks off the television and turns down the lights before turning around to look at Y/n, who’s resting her cheek in her hand as she watches him in such an admirable way that Harry’s heart jumps in his chest.

The light of the candles illuminates her body in a way that almost makes her look so pure, where parts of her remain a silhouette while the rest of her glows in reflection. He feels his palms begin to sweat and feels that familiar tug in his heart when he watches her blink at him in nothing short of falling in love all over again.

He finds it humorous, really—just how much his body reacts to her after all this time.

“You’re looking gorgeous, you know.”

Even in the dim room does he notice her cheeks blush with pink. She hums softly, swiftly lifting her head from her hand and making her way from the chair to waltz over to where he’s leaning against the counter.

She snakes her arms around his waist, underneath the fabric of the apron that’s still tied to his neck before resting her chin upon his chest. Her hands rub up and down his bare back while his hands claim their territory on her waist.

“And you,” she smirks, her hands now roaming to his abdomen and resting upon the ferns inked perfectly on this skin, “you look as beautiful and handsome as ever.”

He sighs in amusement before bending down some to press a kiss upon her lips. It’s quite rough and lustful, however, it’s nothing less than passionate.

Y/n’s hands are relentless along his body and Harry knows it’s because they never have the time to have a proper date. And although what he’d set up in the kitchen isn’t practically proper, it’s the most they can make from the circumstances and Y/n can’t appreciate it enough.

“Keep touching me like that and we’ll be missing our little date.” He chuckles against her lips, “And you’ll be covered in marks when you see my mom again. Know you wouldn’t like that.”

“Wouldn’t.” She shakes her head softly, “Not asking for anything more, just—“ she sighs, her arms now slinging over his shoulders with her fingers intertwined behind his neck in hopes of somehow moving him closer than he already is, “just wanna love on you a bit.”

Her forehead is pressed to his collarbone with her eyes closed, just embracing every last bit of him. No matter how they live, they always manage to make the most out of the very little they have and she knows she wouldn’t be so content if she was living so shitty without him.

He rocks her back and forth gently between his arms, knowing very well that he’s been blessed with something much more than her love. And as much as he wants to express it, there are days he never gets the chance to, so it’s times like these he’s able to make up for all his missing affection.

“Would love to stay like this all night, love, but we have two hours until we have to make our way to the airport and I’d really love it if we enjoy our last dinner alone for the next month.”


“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He whispers, his hand tugging back the roots of his hair as they finally settle into their designated seats.

As much as Harry prepared for this moment, there was really nothing that could have prevented him from becoming so overwhelmed. He could feel the excitement burry in his bones, so much so his entire body feels as if it’s clenching as a way to relieve it.

In only four hours he’ll be in his hometown of Holmes Chapel, and in nearly five hours he’ll be right back at home, snuggled on the couch with his mum and girlfriend watching a stupid romantic comedy him and Anne always watched when he was a kid. He’s been waiting too goddamn long to live that moment and no it’s only five hours away.

Y/n giggles when his hands run down his cheeks with an open mouthed smile. She’s highly amused by how shocked he still is, despite the fact that he had a decent amount of time to wrap his head around the situation. She thinks it’s the damn cutest thing and she wants that smile on him forever; he’s never looked prettier.

“Well, you better believe it because it’s definitely happening. Just a plane ride away from being right where you need to be right now.”

He smiles softly at her before reaching over to press her against him. The armrest in their way of getting closer but neither of them seem to mind as she leans over to kiss his lips gently.

“Work so hard, you deserve this.”

“My sweets.” He mumbles against her lips, his eyes kept closed as he rests his mouth against the corner of her lips, his arms held tightly around her as he embraces the feeling of her against him—a feeling of which he could never grow tired of. “You’re my everything, you know. Don’t know what I’d do without you. Can’t thank you enough.”

“Hm” she hums graciously, shuffling to find room to scoot her body closer to his.

Her cheeks heat up at his words and the way his hands caress her body in the most delicate way possible. Her entire world is held right up against her and she’s never been more grateful to have sacrificed so much of her time for him. He deserves so much more than what he has and not a part of her doubts that for a second.

Her mouth grazes his t-shirt covered shoulder with a smile on her lips.

“You’ve thanked me enough, know you have.”

His hand makes its way to her cheek, pinching the skin softly between the pads of his fingers while her head moves from his shoulder up so that she can look at him.

“Thanked me a lot.” She chuckles.

Harry smirks, his eyes gleaming between a mix of lust and adoration as he remembers it all. Long, long passionate and lustful nights spent between their sheets, soaking each other in and Harry giving her quite literally all he had. Since spending money was no option, making love to her was the most valuable thing he could provide her with to show just how thankful he was. And even though he wanted to give her more—like a diamond ring to finalize their future or a dozen of roses every day until the departure—his love was really all he had and hearing her in pure euphoria made up for all the guilt in his chest.

Y/n didn’t want more, though. Having him was enough—spending forever with him and being there for him was really all she needed. The material didn’t matter; they were just details that weren’t needed when it came to their relationship. She knew how thankful he was—the endless tears and the constant affection showed her just how appreciative he was and she didn’t want it any other way.

His lips press to hers again, only briefly, before he rests his head back against the seat. He really doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky—how he ever deserved somebody like her in his life. She’s his beacon of hope in the midst of his failed and miserable life, and really the only thing that keeps him going through the continuous rough patches.

She’s his absolute everything, and he knows he’d be nothing without her.

“Loving you is the best thing I’ve ever done. Could never love you enough.” He whispers, his fingers reaching out to where her hand is placed on the armrest between them. “Don’t know how I can be without you for three weeks. Not going to get used to it, haven’t been without you for over six years now.”

Y/n’s thought about that, too. She just doesn’t know how to be on her own. There hasn’t been a night she hasn’t fallen asleep next to him and a morning she hasn’t woken up beside him, and she’s not so sure how she’ll cope with him being away for so long.

He’s succumbed every part of her life to the point where he has become her life. Outside of their apartment is nothing but obligations and dead end opportunities, whereas at home—with Harry—there’s everything she’s ever needed. She’s been with him for so long that she genuinely doesn’t know how to be away from him. And although it does sadden her, knowing that Harry will be back in his childhood home is enough to overcome the sorrow in her heart. This is the moment he’s been waiting for and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She closes her eyes softly as she places her head on his shoulder, making sure to run over thumb over the palm of his hand as she does so. She rubs her cheek against his skin while she lets out a quiet yawn, finding comfort against his body as her body slowly turns to rest.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine, sweetums.” She yawns again, “Nothing’s going to be better than a month back at home. Your inner little mummy’s boy is going to go crazy.”

Harry and Y/n both chuckle at her words, both fully aware that even though they won’t be together for a while, Anne is very much well worth it.

Y/n begins to doze off against his shoulder, which Harry would normally find captivatingly endearing and would normally take it upon himself to admire her as she does so—like he always does back at their home—but staying in his seat is almost too much steadiness for his adrenaline can handle. Despite the very little to no sleep Harry has gotten the past two days, there isn’t a single part of his body that isn’t awake and jumping in anticipation for what the next four hours could bring him.

“Next stop, Holmes Chapel.”


“Holy fuck! This is it, Y/n! This is where I used to work!” Harry smiles broadly, quite nearly jumping in his seat as he points to the little town bakery he’s never shut up about.

Y/n is completely mesmerized by it all. Even though the ride from the airport to his house was no less than forty minutes, she has already seen so much of what shaped Harry into the man he is now. Between the bakery, the schools he attended, and where his favorite memories have taken place, it’s as if Y/n is witnessing the life Harry had before her.

Everything Harry has ever talked about is coming to life right before her, and her eyes water at the sight. Although Harry and Y/n have been together for a little over a year before they decided to move away, she has never visited his home town.

It wasn’t that they were necessarily that far from each other, it was just that Y/n grew up much less fortunate than Harry (and he wasn’t very fortunate, to begin with). Her parents were only ever around at night since they worked all throughout the day. Y/n didn’t have a car—or much of anything, really—so Harry visiting her was really the only option they had when it came to seeing each other.

Despite the slight travel it took for them to be together, when they were together, they were together for a while. Whether it was long weekends or even an entire week, their entire relationship was really only built in the confines of her shared studio apartment. It was enough for them, though, at the time.

So between that year spent primarily in Y/n’s hometown, she had only ever had the chance of seeing Anne whenever she had dropped Harry off or picked Harry up. Sure, their parents had met for a small dinner and Anne did visit a couple of other times, but it was nothing how this planned week was going to be with her. Even Y/n is more excited than she expected to be.

“It’s beautiful, Harry. All of this is beautiful, I can’t wait to properly meet your mum.”

“Oh, me too!” He beams. “You have no idea, Y/n! I just know you are going to be acting like best friends by the end of the week! She already loves you so much and she’s going to love you more after this!”

Harry spends the rest of the car ride talking to Y/n about his life back in Cheshire. He talks about the holidays he spent with his family, all the friends he’s made from school and all the local shops, and even talks about what it’s like at home. She finds him repeating himself an awful lot, as if his brain is operating hyperactively but Y/n doesn’t mind a bit. He carries such a love for his childhood that Y/n envies greatly, and his passion when it comes to his family and friends made her heart swell in an entirely different way.  

It’s when the taxi finally turns into his neighborhood does Harry really start to jitter. His legs keep bouncing, his hands keep moving his hair around, his breathing turns harsh, and the words he tries to speak keep stuttering from his mouth.

“We’re here!”

Before the taxi has the time to come to a complete stop at his driveway, Harry is already swinging the door open and nearly throwing himself onto the concrete. Y/n barely has time to follow after him as he begins to run to where Anne is standing by the front door.

“Mumma!”

“Harry!” Anne breathes out, tears already falling freely from her eyes as she begins to meet him halfway.

Harry’s body crashes with hers, his arms wildly moving around Anne’s back as he squeezes her against him. This is the first time he’s felt her in so long that the feeling of her holding him again mixed with her familiar scent—vanilla and cinnamon spice—is like all of Harry’s fondest memories coming back to him.

His mum is here, holding him, kissing his face like she’s never seen it before, sobbing into his shoulder with words he hasn’t heard her speak in years. The reality of it is hitting him so hard, it’s like the world around him disappears into absolute nothingness and his head begins to feel light, almost as if he feels he’s not really existing in this moment but God, he is. He really is.

He’s hysterical, cradling his mum’s head against his chest the way she did to him when he was a child. The tears from his eyes are falling upon her head and her tears are soaking through his t-shirt but neither of them care—neither of them feel it—because the only thing they feel is the overwhelming relief washing over their worries of never seeing each other again.

“Mumma!” He sobs again, his arms practically refusing to let her go, “I m—missed you so m—much, mum. I can’t—I can’t—“

“I know baby, I know.” She weeps. “I missed you so much, my darling.”


It took them twenty minutes before they decided it was time to let go from one another. Tears were still welled up in their eyes and their cheeks were stained from the fallen ones, and even through the blurry sight from the wetness does Anne notice how much Harry has changed throughout the years.

She remembers him being so much more frail, and the stable on his chin showed no sign of being before he moved. His hair is much shorter now than ever before and she has never seen her son so handsome in her entire life.

“You’ve grown up so much!” She exclaims, her hands pressing against his cheeks as she beams up at him. “Look at you, Harry! You’re such a man. You’re the man I always imagined you being and I am so proud of you.”

But I’m a failure he thinks. He’s done absolutely nothing but fail her and it’s something he’ll never be able to forgive himself for. He was her last chance of hope and he completely blew it. For her to stand in front of him and to look him in the eye and genuinely be so proud of him, Harry will never understand.

He shakes his head, though, refusing to let his negative thoughts get to him for the remainder of the trip. This is such a special time for him and he refuses to beat himself up—especially here, especially when he’s with his mum.

Instead, he diverts his attention to the woman in front of him. She’s his rock, his provider through all he’s been through, and the woman that gave him his life. He hadn’t seen her in six years and now that she is here, he notices how she’s still just as beautiful and lovely she looks—how he always remembered her being.

“But you, mum! You haven’t aged a bit! You still look not a day over thirty, I hope to God I get your genes; would be an utter blessing.”

Y/n watches fondly as Harry and Anne make up all the lost time, their nonstop giggles and soft murmurs the only things to be heard on this quiet part of town.

She smiles softly when she sees them hug for what must have been the tenth time since their arrival. It’s truly a wonderful sight to see and Y/n finds it especially heartwarming. She knew Harry has always been a mummy’s boy, but she never got to witness it firsthand, so watching the way Harry treats her—as if she truly is a delicacy—is really something else.

Y/n carefully carries her and Harry’s suitcases from the driveway to the front door, careful to not be too loud or noticeable to interrupt their reunion. She knows they wouldn’t care if she did, however, but she doesn’t want to break them from their trances.

“And Y/n!” Anne nearly screams when she sees Y/n walking in the corner of her eye.

There’s a gasp behind her words as her hands reach up to cup her mouth. The woman who captivated Harry’s heart and made all of this possible is standing right before her, eyes wide with a wide grin on her face.

She’s as beautiful as ever, with her face all natural and her hair swaying perfectly in the wind. Anne has seen Y/n plenty of times through Skype calls but they’ve never done her justice. She’s as close to perfection Anne has ever imagined and she starts to cry again as she stares at the love of Harry’s life.

Anne instantly wraps her arms around Y/n, who quickly drops the baggage she was holding to properly greet her back.

“You’re so beautiful! So much more beautiful than I remember!”

Anne pushes her away softly to get a better look into her eyes, which are gleaming with nothing but love and admiration. Anne clicks her tongue with a smile, her thumbs rubbing against Y/n’s cheek as she begins to speak.

“Thank you so much for everything that you’ve done for us. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you, my dear. And even though my Harry isn’t with me anymore, I am more than blessed to know he’s spending his life with somebody like you.”

Y/n lays her hands on top of where Anne has claimed hers against Y/n’s cheeks, almost as if to hold them in some type of appreciation or reassurance.

It’s calming to know that Anne doesn’t have any type of resentment toward her. Y/n has always felt like an intruder in Harry’s life, or a thief who’s taken him away from his family. Although that’s nowhere near the case, she always did have a fear that Anne would hold some tension with her.

Harry always reassured her that that’s something she never had to worry about, however, it was quite inevitable. But hearing Anne’s words in the sincerity that she spoke, all of the worries and doubts completely washed away.

“I would do anything for your son and I would do anything for his family. He is all I have, along with you, and I always put you guys first. I love him and I knew this was what he needed. I’m more than happy to have done this—for the both of you.”

Y/n leans in to hold her once again, for she has done nothing but bring positivity and love to both her and Harry throughout all the years. She deserves this as much as Harry does—if not more—and she won’t hesitate to keep her as happy as she makes them.

It isn’t long before Anne announces that she’s cooked lunch, which is waiting to be eaten upon the kitchen counter. She even grabs the suitcases before running back inside the house to finish setting the table.

“Not a real home cooked meal without a set table.” She’d always say.

Y/n and Harry are alone again. They’re standing on the patio, watching from the outside looking in on Anne moving in quick movements to make sure everything’s set in place. They giggle at her, admiring her from afar and embracing this undeniably beautiful feeling.

Y/n sighs contently before she makes the first move to go to where Anne is serving the food in the kitchen, but before she has time to even get her foot through the door, Harry’s got a hold on her wrist. He pulls her into him, where Y/n huffs from the unexpected collision of their chests.

“What are you—oh!“

His lips swallow the words she was previously speaking, his hand pushing her head right up against his so that her lips move deeper into his. He’s savoring the taste and embracing the feeling of her kisses, properly this time now that he’s not full of adrenaline.

“I fucking love you.” Harry growls when his lips are free from hers.

His fingers rake the hair from her scalp down to where the ends rest against her back, his eyes staring into her glossed ones as he keeps her close to him.

“What would I ever do without you, my love?”

You Speak Russian?

Bucky Barnes x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary- You have been Tony’s assistant for several years now. Through this you met the loves of your life, Bucky and Natasha. But you’ve been keeping a secret from them, you speak Russian.

Message- Here’s my next poly-one-shot! Sorry if it sucks!

Italicized = Russian

Word Count- 903

You’ve been living a lie for the last 5 years. It wasn’t a big lie, but it was a lie none the less. It had all started innocently enough, well not innocent on their part, but it was on yours. When you had first met Bucky and Tasha, they just assumed you couldn’t speak Russian. They would talk about you while you were in the room. It started out as them calling you cute, but then it started to escalate. They would talk about all the things they would do to you if they ever got you in their bed. It took everything in you to not react and you were glad you never did react, because it gave you a secret upper hand that they didn’t know about.  Like right now.

“We should talk to her about slowing down, maybe just working part time.” Tasha whispers over your “sleeping” body.

That’s a good idea. All the stress from running around after Tony can’t be good for the baby.” Bucky murmurs as he rubs his hand along your baby bump.

Do you think she’ll go for it?” Tash asks.

Absolutely not. She’ll throw a huge fit.” Buck says.

We’ll just tag team her. Hit her at the right moments, like when she’s tired after lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky murmurs as he leans over you to give Tasha a kiss.

“Are you starting something without me?” You ask as you ‘wake up’.

“We would never dream of such a thing.” Tash says as the two of them break apart. She then angles her head so she can kiss you, then you turn to kiss Bucky.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Bucky asks.

Keep reading

Dragons and Direwolves

Requested by anonymous and @gipsysworld ! Enjoy!

Jon tried not to be bitter that Ghost spent more time with Dany than he did with him. 

As soon as they’d reached Winterfell, Ghost had grown attached to the Dragon Queen. He followed her around when he wasn’t out on a hunt, sat by her side during meetings, and even slept between them at night. Of course, he still liked Jon-but Jon suspected that was because he gave him food. 

At first Dany hadn’t liked Ghost. He always smelled like snow and wet fur, and he was always trying to get attention-but slowly he’d grown on her. Now she would complain about him in public, but Jon would see her sneaking him bits of food after meals or scratching him behind his ears so that he closed his eyes in pleasure. 

But then again, he had Rhaegal-who sometimes acted more like a dog than Ghost did. He always wanted to play, or go for a ride-and Jon found himself spending more and more time outside with him and Viserion.

At first he thought the animals being protective of her was just a side effect of the war-Ghost whined whenever they went on raids and even the dragons always seemed tense, as if they were ready to leave on a moment’s notice to rescue her should a mission go wrong. The dragons saw her as a motherly figure, and Ghost liked her just because. It was only natural that they would sense the danger she put herself in, constantly. He felt the same way. He always wanted her to stay back at Winterfell, where there was a better chance she’d be safe. But ever since the first wight hunt she always insisted she had to go with him, just in case. 

Then they started trying to protect her even at Winterfell. The dragons went from being gone most of the day hunting to spending most of their days slinking around the castle grounds, terrifying everyone. They were dragons; they couldn’t exactly lurk, but they seemed determined to try. One morning one of Jon’s generals woke him up early because Rhaegal was sitting lightly on the castle ramparts, looking almost like a cat as he looked around alertly. He growled at anyone who passed by, looking almost like he was glaring at them. 

In the bed next to him Daenerys stirred and looked up at him sleepily. “’s going on?” 

“Rhaegal is causing a scene. Talk him down?” 

She groaned, pulling on a light blue dressing gown and putting on her winter coat over it. She still looked beautiful, even though she’d just gotten out of bed. “I’ll handle it.”

They went outside, bracing themselves against the biting cold. Jon barely got a glimpse of Sansa and Arya emerging from the other side of the castle before he saw Rhaegal, who was stubbornly refusing to move-and no one was particularly trying to provoke him. But Dany strode up to him, fearlessly; he couldn’t help raising an eyebrow as he saw her, less than an eighth of the dragon’s size, yell at him in High Valyrian until he finally got up and flew away-almost knocking off the top of a tower on his way. 

She had to chase off the dragons on at least three other occasions in the next several weeks, interspersed with bouts of illness. 

It was strange; she claimed that she’d never been sick before. She certainly seemed not to know how to react when she woke up with such a bad headache that she couldn’t go to their daily morning debriefings, or when she took two bites of meat stew and had to run to the privy before she threw it all up. Ghost didn’t leave her side; he sat next to her at mealtimes and followed her like a shifting shadow whenever she and Jon went to train or congregated in the map room to discuss strategy. 

Of course, some of these ‘strategy’ sessions often devolved into passionate lovemaking. 

Once Viserion tried to accompany them on one of their raids and it took nearly half an hour for Dany to convince him to stay behind (they couldn’t exactly sneak up on the wights with a giant fire breathing dragon lurking in the background). By the time they’d finally gotten that straightened out they’d lost their opportunity and they’d had to concede; more than a few of Jon’s fellow rangers complained about the dragons (in low voices, of course; they didn’t have a death wish). 

“We have to do something about this.” Ghost had gone more than two weeks without hunting at night; he followed them into the bedroom as soon as they went to bed and didn’t leave until morning. He liked to sleep in between them, taking up as much space as he could (at least, Jon was convinced that was his motive). “I know your dragons are protective but-”

“They’re getting out of hand. I know.” Dany leaned back and looked up at the ceiling; she looked very pale and Jon couldn’t help remembering that she’d thrown up only a few hours before and hadn’t gotten her coloring back yet. “I’ve been trying to get through to them, they just won’t listen.”

“They never cared this much before.” 

Dany didn’t say anything, and for a moment he thought she’d already fallen asleep. “Is there a reason for it, do you think?”

“Maybe they’re just getting separation anxiety.”

She looked like she wanted to hit him with a pillow but had determined it would take too much effort. “Somehow I don’t think that’s it. And the raids aren’t any more dangerous than they were a few weeks ago.” They lapsed into silence again. “Jon, I think I’m going to be sick again.”

He sat up, almost pushing Ghost off the bed on accident. “Are you sure you’re all right? This is hardly the first time.”

“I’m fine.” But he could hear the anxiety in her voice; she never got sick. Ever. “I’ll talk to a maester tomorrow.”

Jon still slept uneasily that night, slipping in and out of nightmares until the sunlight streaming through the window finally woke him up. Dany and Ghost were already gone and the bed next to him was cold; when he saw the basin on the washstand was missing he realized that she’d gotten sick again overnight. 


Jon was surprised when the news came out-but not all that surprised. They’d made love more than a few times in the past couple of months. 

And now Dany was pregnant. 

Of course they made arrangements after that-Dany no longer went out on raids unless it was absolutely necessary and although she often resented being stuck in Winterfell she didn’t usually fight him on it unless it was absolutely necessary. She still went out more than he wanted her to, but between them and the rest of his men they managed to keep her out of harm’s way. 

The animals’ strange behavior subsided slightly after that. Ghost went hunting at nights again and the dragons stayed outside the castle grounds. They were still watchful of Dany but they were no longer a nuisance to everyone around them. 

“They knew they’ll be getting a younger brother or sister,” Dany said one night a couple of months later. Ghost was sleeping with them again; she scratched him under the chin and murmured sweet nothings to him absently. “Even before we did.”

“They’re strange beasts, aren’t they?” He could hear the dragons outside, singing their night songs as they hunted in the darkness. 

“They’re family,” she replied, reaching a hand across Ghost’s furry back to ruffle his hair. 

“That they are.” They weren’t exactly a normal couple; who said their animal companions would be normal either? 

Dragons and direwolves are my favorite things ever. Especially dragon and direwolf bonding. I need to write more headcanons. 

And obviously Viserion is not dead because…just no. Okay? Ok. 

Requests are always open!