i put this on in the bar and got told to take it off

The day after the battle, Hermione Granger got up before the sun did. The Lake was covered in fog, and she was used to having somewhere urgent to go, to be, to fight. 

She closed the tent flap up behind her. Hogwarts had something like enough beds, but Hermione hadn’t had it in her to climb those moving staircases, to step through the painting’s open frame and make her way to the Gryffindor girls’ seventh year dormitory. Her bed would have been there, months untouched except for the bras and scarves and bottles of sparkly purple nail polish Parvati and Lavender had strewn onto every open surface. 

The fog rolled in off the Lake and Hermione stood at the damp shore and shivered until the sun rose and burned it all away. 


-


The day after the battle, they buried their dead out on an island in the Lake, the day after the battle. Madame Pomfrey fretted and hovered, but every injured witch, wizard, and squib made it out to those conjured chairs. They might sit with assistance– with spells, with braces, with a friend’s shoulder– but they sat quiet and they listened to Flitwick read out the names. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron Weasley stood on tiptoe when he stepped back into the Great Hall, looking over a sea of bent heads to find a cluster of red. They’d brought the tables back. 

The cluster was only a tiny blip of three– Bill and their parents were flitting about, helping Flitwick float steaming bowls of pasta down onto each table. But Ginny and Percy were sitting on either side of George, keeping up a lively conversation about Gilderoy Lockhart’s hair. 

Ginny was sitting half in Harry’s lap, like if she didn’t he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from getting up to help, or to pace the castle, or to walk out to the Forest and not come back. She was holding his hand, her freckled thumb running over the words written into his skin. 

Ron thought about sitting with Luna, instead. Percy tried to laugh at one of Ginny’s jokes, and Ron didn’t know how to be kind like that. Ginny held Harry’s hand. Ron had thought for a long terrible stretch of heartbeats that he had lost two brothers yesterday. 

He could sit with Dean. He could walk out to the Forest and punch Aragog in his ugly eyes, because normally when he walked away from everyone he loved it was because he was scared and maybe change was good for the soul. 

Ron pushed his hands through his hair. He crossed the Great Hall, swung into a seat next to Harry, and filled his plate with lukewarm pasta. 


-


The day after the battle, Luna Lovegood climbed up to the Astronomy Tower, because it was the furthest she could get away from everything. She laid on her back on the cold stone and cast balls of light and enchanted birds to chase each other across the ceiling until she felt like descending down to the ground again. 


-


The day after the battle, Neville Longbottom went down to the greenhouses to see what the damage was there. He had sat all night and all morning in the infirmary, fetching water for Anthony Goldstein and holding Dennis Creevey’s hand and folding extra blankets down over Professor Sprout’s cold feet. Madame Pomfrey had banished him to go get a spot to eat and some sleep, so he walked down to the greenhouses to see what was salvageable. 

Whole panes of greenish glass stood jagged and shattered. Protective spells had put out any fires, but stray blasts of magic had killed beds of vegetables and flowers and taken almost all the silver-green leaves off an olive tree that twisted in the corner of Greenhouse 4. 

Neville went in through the door, even though there as a broken hole in the glass wall big enough for him, and almost fell back through it when Hannah Abbott stood up from the row of pots she’d been crouching behind. Dirt streaked every crease of her hands. “Hey,” he said, and let the door click shut behind him. 

“Hey.” When she saw where he was heading, she added, “The olive’s still alive.”

The bark was rough under his hand, gnarled from decades of slow growth. He could hear the green magic whispering down its xylem. 

“I was thinking I’d try to mend up the walls, close this place up again,” said Hannah. “But I wasn’t sure I could do it alone." 

"Alright,” said Neville. When Professor Sprout argued her way out of the infirmary and thumped downhill with the wind throwing her cloudy hair in her face, she found every pane of glass healed and Neville and Hannah asleep on the softest patch of moss in Greenhouse 2.  


-


The day after the battle, Parvati Patil sent an owl to Lavender Brown’s parents. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Hermione skipped lunch and found her favorite secluded corner of the library instead. The chairs stood silent and sober, all gouged dark wood. The high windows threw light gleaming across the polished table, catching on the dust motes drifting through the air above it. 

She dumped her carry-all down on it and reached inside– up to her elbows, her shoulders. She tried not to feel like it was eating her alive and she pulled out protein bars and unicorn horn and crumpled wanted flyers. 

She wasn’t sure when it had gotten so cluttered– sometime before the night in the ditch outside the little Scottish village with the awesome curry shop. Sometime after the time they hid out from a storm in an unknowing Muggle’s barn, wrinkling their noses at the itch of hay as they ate their dinner. Hermione had taken first watch, listening to the thunder roll over the shallow hills outside, and she’d gone through her bag pouch by endless pouch. Harry had twitched in his sleep with every flash of lightning, but everything in her bag had been where it was supposed to be. 

She summoned a wastepaper bin to hover beside her and got to work. Quills and ballpoint pens went in a neat heap to her left. Books she stacked by subject matter around her, except for the ones she flew back to their homes on Hogwarts shelves. She checked potions ingredients for decay, tossed the bad ones and wrapped the good ones back up in their oiled cloth and ziplock bags. 

She ate a protein bar while she piled duct tape and the radio and a travel-sized magnetic foldable Muggle chess set and a depleted first aid kit all up around her. She threw the wrapper away and wondered if the smell would ever come out of the bag’s insides, or if she should just buy another one.  


-


The day after the battle, they started putting the stones of the castle back into place. They put bones back together, first, skin and knit muscle and tendons. McGonagall escorted every statue and suit of armor back to where it belonged. 

Sue Li sat atop a pile of rubble and ate the biggest chocolate bar she’d ever seen her life. She thought she could still taste a film of Polyjuice on her tongue, but she told herself that was dumb. She dropped little pebbles down the ragged tumble of stones, counting their bounces and calculating averages, until Astoria Greengrass showed up with a glass of water and a pasty and put them down beside her. 

Astoria got her hands dirty every chance she got, put her back into sweeping up glass shards or hauling bandages or Wingardium Leviosa-ing stone blocks the size of a horseless carriage. She would stay in the castle as long as she could, finding odd tasks and errands and corners to lurk in. When she finally went back to the Greengrass family estate, it would be to pack her bags, kiss the old house elf on the cheek, and steal her dog away with her. 


-


The day after the battle, Ron went out to Hagrid’s cabin in the stubborn chill of the afternoon and sat in his pumpkin patch. He didn’t go knock on the rough-hewn door, and Hagrid didn’t come out, but after twenty minutes Fang trotted into the yard and patiently got slobber all over his shirt. 

Ron watched the sway of the shadows beyond the Forest’s edge. Buckbeak’s old tying post stood among the twining squash vines and their giant fuzzy leaves, the metal ring hanging empty against weathered wood. He thought about Ginny brushing her thumb over Harry’s scars and wrapped 
his hands over the pale marks that curled around his wrists. 

When the air started biting and the sky started darkening, Ron pulled himself back to his feet and climbed up to the library. He had never lived there, never really liked its labyrinth of stacks and dusty air, but he knew the way there better than he knew the way to the Quidditch pitch or the Room of Requirement or all those other places he liked so much more. 

It was empty, except for Hermione, and he was glad. She squeezed her last book into her bag and looked up at him, shoving her hair back off her forehead. 

“They doing dinner down there?” she said, her dry throat rasping on it. 

He shrugged. “Mum’s organizing, I think. It– helps, I think." 

She nodded, looking down to do the clasps up slowly, one by one. 

"I just wanted to go back to the tent,” said Ron. “Be alone. It’s quiet." 

"I won’t get in your way,” she said. “It’s still pitched down there." 

"I know,” he said. “With you, I meant.”

“That’s not alone,” she said. “I’m not quiet,” she said. She clasped and unclasped the bag. 

“Words. Accuracy. I never claimed to be the clever one." 

"But you are, Ron–" 

"Hermione,” he said. “Come with me? You shouldn’t be sitting here alone. Come home.”

They went down the grass through chilling air. Ron could hear his mother in his head, telling him to take her bag and carry it for her, but he just reached out for her hand. 


-


The day after the end of it all, Ron laid on the floor of the tent, counting stitches in the canvas, while Hermione read Hogwarts, A History like she didn’t have it memorized. She read her favorite parts aloud, stopping mid-sentence when the tent flap rustled and opened. 

“Ginny’s sitting on Neville until he agrees to sleep in a real bed and not a pile of shrubbery,” Harry said, stepping inside and shutting it up behind him. “She got Luna to help because she says otherwise Luna will just fade into a corner and not come out for food.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m not intruding, right?" 

"Don’t be daft,” said Ron and patted a bit of floor next to him. “C'mon, join in, Hermione’s trying to bore me to sleep. I suspect it’s an act of caring concern.” Hermione threw a pillow at his head without looking up from the pages.  

The day after the battle, they fell asleep in a tangle in the center of the tent that they had lugged across their country, across these long, cold days of the war. They had danced here to the radio, had chewed protein bars, played chess and bled and yelled at each other. 

But the war was over and they were growing into it, slow, staying up too late as they leaned into each other and whispered on this threadbare rug. They meant to wobble to their feet and get to bed, but Harry was clinging to Hermione’s hand and none of them wanted to go. 

They would get too old for this– hard floors and the way Harry’s neck was cricked up on Ron’s bony shoulder. Hermione’s snoring would get worse and Ron would have to sleep with four carefully arranged pillows to stop his back from aching in the mornings, but Harry would always have a place here. He had slept on Ron’s bedroom floor at fourteen, leaned on Hermione outside his parents’ broken home. 

In the weeks after the battle, Hermione would track down her parents and move back home, and they would all help the Weasleys rebuild the Burrow. Harry would move in Andromeda Tonks’s spare room. “We’re almost like family, after all,” she’d say briskly, shooing him into the house and showing him where she kept the tea, Teddy’s diapers, and the whiskey. They’d come for visits and talk through the night in each of those homes, curled up under Molly’s quilts or out on the Granger’s back porch swing or over fingers of firewhiskey with Andromeda. 

In the months after the war, he and Ron would get a flat while they went through Auror training and Hermione would crash there five nights out of seven. Her university textbooks would take over their countertops, shelves, tables, and floor and Harry wouldn’t tease them (too much) for how hilariously long they tried to pretend it was the couch Hermione slept on. 

Every home Ron and Hermione lived in, for the rest of their lives, would have a place for Harry– a spare room or a patch of floor or an old sofa. He would know how Hermione took her coffee, and his favorite cereal and Ginny’s favorite oatmeal would always been in the cupboard, and their children would have giggly cousin-sleepovers in magical tents they pitched on the living room rug. 

When the kids came shrieking in to wake them at absolutely unacceptable, ugly hours, Ginny would groan curse words they’d repeat gleefully among themselves, but Harry would let them grab his hands in their little sticky ones and pull him barefoot and messy-haired out into the morning.

IT’S GETTING KINDA HOT IN HERE

*I wrote this with the sun and mars signs in mind*

Aries: It was a cool summer night. “You’re crazy.” I said as you pulled me towards an abandoned building. “Don’t be scared, I just wanna check it out.” We wandered through the decaying concrete, graffiti on every wall possible. I was so scared but I was trying hard not to lose my cool. After all you were absolutely loving this. There was a loud creak and I jumped, grabbing your arm. “Babe calm down, look at me.” You said soothingly, rubbing my shoulders. We made out there in the middle of the building; in the middle of the night. Your kisses enthralling, and for a moment I forgot about everything else. The creak came again but louder, “Okay, fuck this.” You laughed, grabbing my hand and we ran as fast as we could out of there and into the summer air.

Taurus: It was pitch black, our kisses growing more urgent as you fumbled around trying to undo my buttons. “I can’t see anything.” you chuckled. I sparked my lighter and you looked around for a candle, finding one and lighting it with my flame; never taking your eyes off me. You undid my pants quickly with a smirk on your face and threw them dramatically across the room. Your lips finding mine again, making up for the loss of contact. “You are so fucking hot” you whispered, running your hands down my body, a trace of goosebumps forming on my skin. You pushed in slowly, moaning as you felt my heat. You buried your face in my hair I lost all focus. I just held on for dear life as the candlelight flickered erratically on the ceiling.

Gemini: Your bedroom was covered with so many posters I couldn’t see what colour it was painted. You had not one, but two lava lamps, one purple and one orange. We were laying on your floor, listening to Frank Ocean on vinyl, “Sometimes I think about faking my own death, and leaving the parts I don’t like about myself behind.” you said somberly, drawing lazy circles on my stomach with your finger. “Where would you go?” I asked. You propped your head up, your adorable face flushed purple in the light from the lamp. “Anywhere but here,” you said pulling me even closer, “only as long as I could take you with me though.” I ran my finger across your bottom lip and you bit it, we giggled quietly, then sighed. You kissed me so deeply, like an ocean tide that ebbs and flows. We made love, slow love right there on your bedroom floor. Every now and then, when things are quiet, parts of that night come back in flashes when I close my eyes.

Cancer: Snow had been coming down like crazy all day and everybody was staying inside. We had made the heroic journey to the store to get the bare necessities. Popcorn, paprika Pringles and those fruity toffees. Now we were cuddled in an abundance of duvets and pillows watching Spirited Away. “Are you cold?” you asked softly. “No I’m actually really warm.” I said adjusting the pillows behind me. Your eyes shot around the room, you bit your lip as your gaze landed on me. “What?” I asked when I noticed you staring. You grinned, “I’m kinda cold.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I lifted my blanket and pulled you into my cocoon. Your hand slipped under my shirt as you got comfortable. “Oh my god, your hand is freezing.” I shrieked. “Warm me up then.” you teased as you kissed me gently.

Leo: “You are such a goddamn hypocrite, why are you being so possessive?” I yelled at you. “Because I fucking love you!” you screamed even louder. My eyes shot wide as the words left your mouth. I felt like I was about to faint. Like everything I’d known for the past two months had been wrong. I put my hand on my forehead and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Since when?” I asked warily. You sat down next to me, leaving a little space between us, not wanting to scare me away. “Since the day I met you.” you said more gently. I shook my head in confusion. All these months I’d been crushing on you, telling myself I was a fool for thinking you could ever feel the same. “Look, I should go.” you said standing up, I grabbed your arm quickly and pulled you to me. I kissed you with my eyes open, I didn’t believe it but my eyes couldn’t lie. You picked me up and put me in your lap. “We can’t do this.” I whispered into your neck. You grabbed me even tighter, not ready to let me go. “Tell me to stop,” you breathed kissing down my collarbone, your finger toying with the band of my panties, “just tell me to stop.” Your eyes searched mine for an answer. Your finger inching further, grazing down the lace in front. I moaned into your mouth, giving you the answer you needed. The one we both needed.

Virgo: My phone buzzed next to my laptop. It was almost midnight and my chemistry notes were making less sense than ever. “Hi baby.” I half sighed as I answered. “Where are you?” you asked. “On my bed, what’s up?” I could hear your breathing through the phone, “Nothing, just thinkin’ about you. ‘Bout us.” you said cheekily. I closed my eyes as that familiar lightness hit my stomach. “Oh really, what are we doing?” I teased. You half groaned on the other line, “Thinking about your skin, running my tongue up your spine, and swirling it around your-” Now I was the one who moaned. “Can you come pick me up?” I panted. You laughed, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Libra: It was my first birthday in the new city and I was feeling more homesick than ever. You knocked on my door and told me to get dressed while you poured two shots of tequila. You took me on an adventure, stumbling through a regal museum slightly tipsy. I was laughing at this modern piece, you asked why I didn’t get it, I said the shape was a bit funky. From behind you wrapped your arms around my waist, pressing yourself up against me, “I think it’s a quite stimulating.” you whispered with a sly grin, and my entire body shivered. Then you took me to dinner, your eyes staring into mine the whole time and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. It was like moving between worlds, reality changing from hour to hour. I don’t even remember what we talked about, only what I was feeling. We couldn’t even last until desert, our minds running away from us. As soon as I opened the door to my place your lips crashed onto mine, and for the first time that night I felt like I could breathe.

Scorpio: “Do you wanna wrestle?” I asked you with a wicked grin on my face. “I’m not gonna wrestle you.” You said not taking your eyes of the TV. I jumped on you and the Xbox controller went flying. “You asked for it.” You growled as you started fighting me back. I knew I had no chance, I just wanted to get you all fired up. Before I knew it I was on my back, hands pinned down above my head and your strong thighs straddling my torso. “Who’s the winner?” you demanded. “You’re the winner daddy.” I purred, reaching up and biting your lip. Your expression shifted, your eyes going from that watery blue to devilish dark in a split second, and I knew I was in for a ride.

Sagittarius: It was 3 a.m. I knew I had school in the morning but at this point I didn’t care. Cruising around the city in your parents BMW, the bass in the sound system making our blood vibrate. Like it hadn’t been already. We didn’t say anything, we couldn’t. We couldn’t afford to lose control. Then L$D by A$AP Rocky came on. My hands were shaking in my lap, your knuckles white from squeezing the steering wheel so hard. The engine purred as you drove faster, now with a purpose, pulling into the beach parking lot. The car came to an abrupt stop and I couldn’t take this any longer. You moved your seat back as I jumped over the console. You kissed me like you were drowning and I was air. All that tension finally snapping like firecrackers as the music pumped through our bodies. Your strong arms lifted me up and pushed my dress up my thighs, the windows fogging up. I could feel your biceps trembling under the palm of my hand, and thought how could something that felt so right be so wrong?

Capricorn: The whole day had had a weird, electrifying feel to it. Now I knew why. We were standing out there on the balcony, face to face in the middle of the crowd. “Kiss me.” you said nonchalantly. “You kiss me.” I incited. You took a long drag of the joint, gently pressing your lips to mine as you blew the smoke into my mouth. I just stared back at you, blowing the smoke out again calmly, your fingers still caressing the back of my neck. You almost smiled but stopped it midway by biting your lip. I grabbed your shirt and pulled you to me. I kissed you like it was the last time. You pulled back slightly to catch your breath, “Wanna get out of here?”

Aquarius: The night I first met you. I didn’t wanna go out but my friends convinced me. The bar was so packed but somehow I got to the front of the stage. There you were, and that cherry red guitar, in your own world. I remember I couldn’t take my eyes of your fingers when you played. I didn’t even notice you were looking at me until the song was over. You laughed and playfully tugged on your shirt. I didn’t get why but then I noticed we were both wearing the same Led Zeppelin shirt. When the show was over you found me so quickly I knew you had been watching me. “I feel like this was meant to be.” you said leaning up against the bar. I took you in, your knuckles had little cuts on them and your black jeans were splattered with green paint. “I’m not really in the mood to make friends tonight.” I said, taking a sip of my beer. You ran your hand teasingly through that dirty blonde DiCaprio hair, “How ‘bout we just stay strangers then?” I knew I’d already lost this fight. The next thing I remember is literally falling into your foyer, your lips on my neck as I moaned in your ear. You held me so tight, pulling my shirt up ever so slightly just to put your skin on mine. I pushed you down, taking my shirt all they way off while I straddled your hips, and you looked at me like I had just discovered fire. When it was all over you grabbed my face with both your hands, “What’s your name?” you breathed. I smirked as I put my clothes back on, “I thought we were gonna stay strangers.” I was halfway home when I realized that the shirt I was wearing wasn’t mine, it was yours.

Pisces: The record had finished all the way through. That needle scratch sound from the record player filled the silence in the room. I was in your arms, tangled in bedsheets and your sticky bodyparts. You grazing my back lightly with your fingers. “I need to pee.” I said trying untangle myself limb by limb. Your arms tightened around me, “No, you can’t go.” you pouted. I giggled and wiggled around in your embrace. “I have to pee, I’ll be quick.” You pressed your forehead against mine. “Promise?” you said softly. I pecked your lips three times. “I promise.”

Whipped Cream (Jungkook smut)

Originally posted by nnochu


Description: Jungkook is your roommate. Among other things, his habit for baking shirtless made it… ‘difficult’ to live with him.

Themes: Smut, baker, collage, roommate au

This fic contains: Smut, adult content, food play, arguing, drinking, mentions of threesomes, swearing

Characters: Jungkook x You, Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok and Taehyung

words: 7.5k

For this fic I used inspirations of food play and the roommate au from two anons <3

A/N: I refused to come back from my hiatus until I had something for my lovely and patient followers <3 (also, I was keen to come back so i’ll edit this and fix mistakes later)

@chanyeolingss, @jn-jngkk, @sugaspen <3


It wasn’t necessarily the pile of dishes or the trail of clothes that seemed to almost constantly hover around Jungkook like he was some annoying ass Avatar or something that got you so mad. It wasn’t the thick fragrance of his cologne or body wash that drifted through the open plan of your shared apartment every morning, or the smell of his musky sweat when he returned home from his evening jog, or from when he emerges from his room- having clearly just having a ‘fucking mind blowing’ wank. It wasn’t the soft melodies, or exciting electronic beats that flooded from his open window and into yours, nor his big and copious amounts of jackets and coats that made it nearly impossible to get your own fucking clothes from the rack next to the front door. Your frequent burning irritation had nothing to do with his presence, with the evidence of his existence in your apartment and life; it was with the man behind it all. It was with him. With fucking Jeon Jungkook. Ok, and maybe it was also for his fucking annoying baking habits. Did he really need to bring that shit home? Didn’t he get sick of it at work?

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An Aquarius was throwing and making a mess in his own room after he found out that she, his girlfriend, had finally moved on without him. I looked as he cuss and threw away some of the mementos of her, and finally stopped when he found an old photo of them together at a photobooth. He sat down and started to burst into tears. “If only.. If only I told her everything, and hadn’t kept it all in, maybe she would’ve stayed..” he said through the tears.

An Aries looked through his twitter and found a picture of his ex with someone else, he let out a soft chuckle. “Oh shit..” he laughed, and slowly he stood up and continued to laugh. “Look at this. Look at her.. Oh, she’s.. she’s fucking hilarious.” He slowly started to laugh so hard, and I watched as he began to shake and slowly made his way to the balconey and started to scream about her, just screamed her name and called her names and how he hated her but finally he broke down and cried.

A Cancer started shaking and tries to grab his phone out of our reach. “Please, let me just call her..” we shook all our heads and told him to just stay put. He begged that it’ll be just for tonight. We told him that he has had enough, but he wouldn’t listen. He wanted to call her so bad, but the truth is.. she’s about to have her wedding in a week, and he was going to tell her he still loves her after all these years.

A Capricorn and I were out in mid-town late at night, and he had too much to drink. He sways as he walks, and suddenly one of Bryson Tiller’s songs played through one of the bars nearby and he let go of me and sang through the whole verse. He finally stopped and looked at me and said, “This shit, that’s me. I wished God would saved her for me. That’s it, and fuck.. I’m not really at my best at the moment, but I loved her.”

A Gemini breath out smoke after inhaling his cigarette and he looked at the city lights from our view. “I miss her..” was all he said, taking another inhale from his cigarette. He looked at me and gave me a small smile and back at view.

A Leo drank with me, and place an arm around my shoulders and said, “I shouldn’t drink too much. These crazy thoughts are hunting me again, and I just want to crush the world. Ha, oh she’s in my head. My ex, you know? She’s in here again and.. fuck! I hate her. I miss her. You know we’re talking again, right but just as "friends”? I want more than that..“ He gave me a small playful slap on the cheek and walked to get another drink. It’s going to be a long night.

A Libra rushed to her house, knocking at her apartment door. But it was locked. Ran back downstairs and started calling her name out her window, trying to get her attention. She finally opened the window and told him to leave. I watched from the car, as he asked for her forgiveness. She shook her head and said it was too late for him.

A Pisces admitted to me how he still thinks about his ex, and how he still calls out her name and how his mind would play memories of her every single day. He can’t stand the nights because his mind would play her, her voice, her smile, the way she would call him everyday and she was his rock. As he sits here with me, tears roll down his cheek and he said, "Now here I am still holding on to her, just waiting for a sign that maybe she’d come back, and maybe we can try again.. but also maybe she’s with someone else, who.. who treats her well than I could’ve had and.. I want her to be happy, I do, but I wish.. right now.. she could be happy with me, and I am so selfish for it..”

A Sagittarius once said that he used to think too much about the relationship and how every time he was with her he would start to overthink every scenario of how she would leave him, and he would tell her and she would shook her head and promised him she would never leave… and now that she’s gone he still can’t stop thinking about her..

A Scorpio said to me, “I’m just not too sure if I could ever ask her to come back. I really messed up, you know? I could try, but would she ever give me another chance to prove to her my real worth? Can she really do that..?” I was a little loss for words. Knowing Scoprio and how he is, he seemed to be really serious about her. I just didn’t know what to say.

A Taurus and I passed by a coffee shop and he paused and peered through and saw his ex with someone else, and she’s laughing and holding this man’s hand. He gritted his teeth and his fist clenched. I put a hand on his shoulder and told him to let it go. It’s been years since they’ve together and been a two years after their break up. He slowly looked down in defeat and sighed. He walked off ahead of me..

A Virgo and I were driving out late one night around the city, and all the songs he played were just old, sad R&B music and I would watch him from time to time as he mumbled some of the lyrics to himself and would let out a small smirk when the singer goes and says, “I love you and miss you..” and he shook his head. We pulled up to a parking lot, and he got out and looked at me and said, “I do miss her, but do you think she misses me..?”

—  Regrets..
Smooth Criminal

Officer!Bucky Barnes x Drunk!Reader

Summary: Bucky’s a cop and got called to a crime scene to arrest a criminal but he realizes the criminal is the person he’s dating

Word Count:1,892

Warnings: Police!Au, Language, Drunk Shenanigans, Major Floof

A/N: Written for Manu’s writing challenge, couldn’t help but write cop!Bucky again. @jurassicbarnes thank you for the fun opportunity.

Originally posted by uncensoredsideblog

It had been a quiet night for Officer James Buchanan Barnes and his partner. So far, they had to deal with a fight between two drunk men, an exhibitionist and a few reckless drivers.

Bucky had started his shift at 10 p.m. the previous night and it was now just after 4 a.m. He kept repeating ‘only two more hours’ like a mantra and tried to imagine you all wrapped up and sound asleep in your bed. He really wanted to be with you.

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Je T’aime, Mon Cher Eddie

For @time-for-tozier who came up with this idea, I hope you like it!!

Eddie watched as the clock’s minute hand moved towards the number 12, making a ticking noise as it wet round. He was so fixated that he jumped when the bell rang, the cue for people around him to pack up and leave the room.

He slammed his yellow note book shut and shoved it, and his pencil, into his backpack, before running out of the classroom to meet up with the other losers.

He sprinted down the hallways, bumping into several people and nearly tripping twice, before he reached the door. He swung the door open and walked to the bike rack around the side of the school.

“Hey Eddie,” Ben called to him as he walked over.

“Hey guys,” Eddie took in the positions of his friends. Mike was sat on the ground, fiddling with his bike, it kept breaking. Ben was sat on a bench about a meter away from the bike rack, a book resting open on his lap. Beverly was sitting on her bike seat, hands already gripping the handlebars as if she was in a hurry to go. Bill and Stan were stood next to each other, however, Eddie noticed, much too close to be considered normal. And Richie, well, he was being his usual self. He was hung upside down on one the metal bannister of a nearby stair case, dark hair brushing the ground.

“Eds! You finally arrived!” Richie near shouted bouncing his way back over to the group. “Can we go now?”

The losers collectively rolled their eyes and grabbed their bikes, climbing on and cycling towards the woods.

Their was a field there that they had claimed as their new hangout. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. In the spring, the ground was covered in daisies, Richie loved it, and prided himself on making “the best daisy chains in Derry”. In the Summer and Autumn, the grass was green and soft. And in the Winter, the Loser’s decided to just hand out at each other’s houses instead, with the careful avoidance of the Tozier, Marsh and Kaspbrak residences.

They were all laying on the grass. Beverly had her head resting on Ben’s lap as he sat cross legged playing with her hair. Stan and Bill were laying shoulder to shoulder, Mike was spread out like a starfish, and Richie was resting his head on Eddie’s stomach.

They were peaceful.

“Richie, I couldn’t help but to notice that you were in my French class this morning.” Bev spoke up, breaking the silence.

She knew there had to be a reason behind his sudden appearance in the class. She knew that she took it so that one day, when she was old enough, she could move to France and never look back. She knew that Stan’s parents wanted him to focus more on his religion. She knew that Ben was already fluent in the language and didn’t need to take a class. She knew that Bill found it too hard because of his stutter. She knew that Mike and Eddie simply didn’t want to take the subject, seeing no reason for it.

So what was Richie’s reason?

“You take French?” Eddie chuckled, sitting up. “Since when?”

“Well, obviously since this morning dipshit. I already know how to say some stuff. Such as,” Richie cleared his throat. “Ta mère aime ça dans le cul.”

Bev’s head shot up. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“W-what did he say?” Bill asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Bev whined. The rest of the group, bar Richie and Ben, nodded. She sighed. “He said “your mother likes it up the ass.”

Groans of “Richie”, and “really?” We passed around as Richie smirked.

“Hey Rich? Do you know anything that’s not rude?” Eddie asked.

“Umm yeah,” Richie replied. “Eddie, tu as de beaux yeux.” (You have beautiful eyes)

“What does that mean?”

“Ahh, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, that is a secret.”

“Don’t call me that. Bev? Can you tell me what he said?” Eddie asked Beverly, who was staring at Richie with a strange look on her face. She stared for a few more moments before turning to Eddie.

“Sorry Eddie, I don’t know what he said.”

————

The next morning Richie bounced into school with too much energy for 7am on a Tuesday.

“Good morning, mes petits choux.” He smiled, leaning his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Richie, if I may ask, why did you just call us ‘your little cabbages’?” Ben questioned.

“I did it because I felt like it.” Just then the bell rang for class.

“Um, Richie? Can I talk you you for a sec? In private?” Beverly asked. Richie nodded, he loved the girl like family, they both dealt with similar issues in their home lives. “Do you like Eddie? You know, as in like him?”

Richie blushed. “No, where did you get that idea?”

“You’re always hugging him, you never stop staring at him, and yesterday you told him, in French, that he had beautiful eyes.”

“You said you didn’t understand what I said!”

“Well I lied, I guessed that you didn’t really want me to tell him, otherwise you would have simply said it in English.” She sighed. “Richie, what’s the real reason you started taking French class? You know I’m not going to judge you.”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been dealing with so much at home and then I come to school and he,” Richie leant back against the wall. “He makes me feel safe, and, I dunno, loved I guess? I just wanted a way to tell him how I feel and explain what’s happening at home. But it was way too painful to say it all in English, so I thought it’d be easier to tell him in another language.”

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly wrapped him in a hug. “That’s so sweet.” Richie gave her a half smile, and they began walking to their first class, which happened to be French.

———-

Eddie was just dozing off when he hears the taps at his window. At first he was scared that it was a leper, or a murderer, but he was assured it wasn’t when someone spoke up from behind the glass and curtains.

“Eddie? You awake?” Eddie pushed he covers off and got out of bed, he walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

The person at his window was Richie.

“C-can I come in?” Eddie could see the tears making their way steadily down Richie’s cheeks. He pushed the window open as quietly as he could and Richie clambered in.

“Rich, are you okay? What happened?” Instead of the answer Eddie knew he wasn’t going to get, Richie clutched him in a hug, openly sobbing.

Eddie guided Richie over to his bed and lates him down so that Richie’s head was resting above his heart. He never got answers, but he knew how to calm his best friend down. He liked listening to Eddie’s heartbeat, to confirm he wasn’t alone, and he like it when Eddie ran his fingers through his hair.

That’s exactly what Eddie was doing when Richie stopped crying and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Je t'aime. S’il te plaît, ne me quitte jamais.” (I love you. Please never leave me.)

Richie fell asleep soon after that, Eddie had no idea what the sleeping boy had said to him.

Over the next few months, Richie refused to stop talking in French whilst around Eddie. Beverly noticed he would constantly be blushing whenever Richie spoke the foreign words, in a thick accent. All of the Losers agreed that it was The only good impression Richie Tozier had ever done. During these months, Bev had to put up with Richie’s constant pining for Eddie.

She would always catch him calling Eddie a ‘magnifique petit tournesol’ (gorgeous little sunflower) or telling Eddie that he ‘avait l'air si mignon dans ce pull’ (looked so cute in that sweater’. He even said ‘Mon Amour.’ (My love) a few times

She was fed up of it. She knew without a doubt that Eddie had the same feelings towards Richie. So, during their 5th period geography class, Bev gave Richie a stern talking to.

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“Eddie! You need to tell him how you feel! I’m like 99% sure he reciprocates your feelings.”

“Yes Bev, but what about the 1% hmm?” Beverly rolled her eyes, they spent the rest of the lesson in silence.

A few weeks passed and Richie and Eddie found themselves alone at Loser’s Meadow, as the gang had dubbed it, watching the sun set.

“Eddie, I’m about to ramble in French and you just need to listen, you don’t need to understand.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, okay.” He secretly loved it when Richie spoke French, however, he’d never admit it.

“Vous ne comprenez pas un mot que je dis en ce moment, et honnêtement? Je pense que c'est une bonne chose.

(You don’t understand a word im saying right now, and honestly? I think thats a good thing.)

J'avais besoin d'un moyen de pouvoir te dire ce que je ressens sans que tu me détestes.

(I needed a way to be able to tell you how i feel without you hating me.)

Parce que je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas en retour. Qui pourrait m'aimer de retour? Je suis un morceau de merde sans valeur.

(Because I know you don’t love me back. Who could love me back? I’m a worthless piece of shit.)

Vous voyez, vous n'avez absolument aucune idée de ce que je dis. En ce moment, tes joues sont d'un rouge vif avec combien tu rougis, et ton sourire n'a jamais été aussi beau.

(See, you have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Right now, your cheeks are bright red with how much you’re blushing, and your smile has never been more beautiful.)

Tant que je continue à sourire et à parler, ce regard restera sur votre visage. Je ne veux jamais que tu arrêtes de sourire.

(As long as I keep smiling and talking, that look will stay on your face. I never want you to stop smiling.)

Ok, maintenant pour la vraie merde.

(Okay, now for the real shit.)

Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime depuis que nous avons neuf ans. Vous avez toujours été mon refuge, pour les nuits où il n'est pas sûr de rentrer à la maison, ou j'en ai fini avec le monde.

(Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you since we were 9 years old. You have always been my safe haven, for nights when it isn’t safe to go home, or I’m just done with the world.)

Vous êtes la seule personne à qui je fais confiance. Sauf ça. C'est la seule chose que vous ne saurez jamais, parce que je sais que vous ne ressentirez jamais la même chose.

(You are the one person I trust everything to. Except this. This is the one thing that you’ll never know, because I know you’ll never feel the same.)

Je t'aime Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime.

(I love you Eddie Kaspbrak, I love you.)”

Eddie giggled. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Oh, um, just a very detailed description of your mom’s vagina. I can retell it in English if you’d like?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Eddie said whilst laughing, as Richie sat admiring him, a wistful expression on his face.

A few days later saw Richie climbing into Eddie’s window at 3am with a bust lip and a black eye and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without having to ask, Eddie pulled him into his bed and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. Richie wouldn’t stop muttering something in French until he fell asleep.

“Je t'aime.” Eddie made himself a promise that he’d look those words up as soon as the library was open tomorrow.

As soon as Richie left the next morning, Eddie pulled on a Red sweatshirt, one of Richie’s that he’d left behind years ago, and some shorts. He ran out of the house, making sure to kiss his mother goodbye before he left, and raced to the library.

He walked in and asked the receptionist to point him towards the ‘languages’ section.

He grabbed himself the first French dictionary he could find and flipped straight to the ‘T’ chapter, he already knew that ‘Je’ mean ‘I’.

Eddie gasped when he read the meaning. He dropped the book, causing a loud thud, and ran straight for the exit. He clambered back onto his bike and sped down the streets. He knew where Richie would be. The out of use highway bridge. He would always go there on a Saturday to smoke, listen to The Smiths and get away from his Parents.

Eddie threw his bike down as soon as he arrived, taking a puff from his asthma inhaler. “Richie?” He called out.

“Eddie?” He looked up to see Richie sat on the bridge’s ledge, feet swinging backwards and forwards. Eddie began to run up the hill towards the dark haired boy, whilst said boy stumbled down towards him. They met halfway.

“Eds, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting your mother or something.”

“Je t'aime aussi.” Eddie stated, not even bothering to tell Richie off for calling him Eds.

“What?” Richie looked unsure of what he’d just heard.

“Je t’aime aussi.” Eddie took a breath. “I love you too.”

Richie wasted no time in pulling Eddie in by his waist, connecting their lips. Eddie fisted his hands in the collar of Richie’s shirt. They pulled away a few moments later, in need of air, and rested their foreheads together.

This felt right. This felt like home.

safe haven

Summary: Eggsy’s safe haven is in the last place he would’ve thought to look.

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is somewhat rushed, but I just had to get this out, especially after seeing K:TGC. Hopefully you all enjoy this! | masterlist


Originally posted by just--a--figment


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Unrequited

Summary: As a teenager you’d been best friends with Sam Winchester, particularly since your mother and his father hunted together whenever they felt they needed backup. But then you’d moved country, and all interactions with the Winchesters were of the non-physical kind. So when they call on you for backup, you jump at the chance to see your best friend again, not to mention see his big brother, on who you’d had a mild crush on.
The hunt goes well, the rest of the evening, however, doesn’t exactly go your way.  
Pairing
: Alpha!DeanxOmega!Reader
Words
: 3963
Warnings
: A/B/O Dynamics. Smut.
AN: This was an Anon Request! I’m quite pleased with this one, and kinda tempted to write a sequel… let me know what you think of that idea!!!
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!

***

Your phone started ringing for the third time in a row, and you couldn’t suppress your exasperated groan as you tugged a sweatshirt over your wet hair and damp skin. Snatching it up off the scuff-marked plastic table you chanced a quick glance at the caller ID before answering.

Sam Winchester.

Of course.

“You better have a damn good reason for disturbing my day off, Winchester,” you teased, tucking the mobile between your shoulder and ear so you could return to the damp towel you’d tossed onto the bed and set about drying your hair more thoroughly. The bastard knew you were taking a day to pamper yourself, yet still decided to drive you mad with your own ringtone. How very rude of him.

On the end of the line, Sam just chuckled, and you could just picture him shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he laughed, but you could detect genuine regret in his voice. “It’s just that I know you’re nearby, and me and Dean could use an extra pair of hands on this one. Dean will hate me when he finds out I rang… he doesn’t like thinking there are more Vamps than we can handle,” he said. A faint scraping sound in the background suggested that he’d just taken a seat, too.

As you once again dropped the towel onto your bed in favour of your hairbrush, you let out an amused titter. “Certainly sounds like Dean,” you mused, “sounds like he’s well on his way to becoming one of those stereotypical stubborn Alphas you get on TV.”

Once again, you heard the distinctive rumble of Sam laughing. That was when a thought hit you, and your face lit up in a smile so broad that your cheeks actually hurt.

“Hold up… does-does that mean I actually get to see you guys? And I mean see you, not just skype or a screen-shared movie?”

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Taken

Writer - @damndescendants

Requested - nope. Send in request! All types relating to Descendants are allowed!

Disclaimer - I do not own any of Descendants’ characters and/or ideas all credit goes to the creator and producers of Disney Descendants

Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader

Summary – Harry Hook’s girlfriend, (Y/N) is kidnapped by someone on the Isle and Harry isn’t too pleased with it

Warning(s) - kidnapping, violence, swearing, fluff at the end

Originally posted by heather-l-wood

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Firecracker.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes/Omega!Reader.

Warnings: SMUT. A/B/O. Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, bar violence, sexism, unprotected sex (Wrap your presents).

Word Count: 1700.

Rating: 18+

Masterlist

Tagging @sexylibrarian1 @thecrownedrose @ryverpenrad @papi-chulo-bucky @supernatural-girl97 @brokenanxiety @palaiasaurus64 @marveldcmistress @buckysomega @bladebarnes

Here have some Alpha!Bucky that no one asked for and you better enjoy it.


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Tongue (Ethan)

⚤ - CONTAINS SMUT

You laid back on your shared bed with your boyfriend, Ethan, scanning aimlessly through your phone. When you had texted Ethan on your way home from the airport he had told you he was out filming something with Grayson.  Neither of you had seen each other in two weeks since you’d come back from your family vacation. You had originally planned to come home a day later but you wanted to surprise Ethan by choosing to come home a little earlier instead. You waited impatiently, tapping your fingers against your thigh until your heart began to pound in your chest at the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. Heavy footsteps shuffled in followed by two familiar voices.

“Dude I think she’s gonna hate it.” You heard Ethan’s laugh and it automatically made your heart sing even though you were questioning what the hell he’d gotten himself into now. You couldn’t leave Ethan or Grayson alone for more than five minutes before one of them was hurting themselves or doing something they’d likely regret later on.

“Maybe she’ll think it’s kind of kinky.” Grayson replied. You heard a smack followed by a loud “Ow!” You narrowed your eyes. What the hell were they talking about? You shook your head and contemplated coming out of the bedroom until you heard Ethan’s footsteps trudging down the hall.

“I’m taking a nap bro. I’m beat.”

The door swung open and Ethan stopped dead, stumbling backwards, clutching his chest with widened eyes.

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my good friend @lena221b recently reminded me of a series of drabbles i wrote in response to anon asks aaaaages ago. i couldn’t find the original posts (we’re talking years ago, that’s too much scrolling for one mortal girl) so i decided to lump them all together here. the following are a few short snippets of derek and stiles’ life together. in my head they’re all part of the same universe. enjoy!


“I dream about riding you sometimes.”

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice, just tries to roll himself back over. ‘Tries’ being the operative word, because he somehow manages to get himself tangled in his hoodie and then he’s just struggling on the ground with his head trapped in the sleeve.

Ordinarily Derek would help him, would feel guilty about dropping him in the first place, but right now he’s too preoccupied with choking on his own spit.

Stiles fights his way out of his clothing and gazes up at Derek.

“You’re so big though, I’m not even sure I could get my legs around you.”

Can werewolves go into cardiac arrest? Because it’s happening, Derek’s pretty sure it’s happening.

“And you’re so strong, too. I bet I could just climb up on there and you could keep going for hours.”

Stiles smacks his lips and wiggles on the forest floor and seems completely unconcerned with the way Derek’s world is rearranging itself around him.

“Such a scary wolfy,” Stiles mumbles, eyelashes fluttering. “You’re also really fluffy though.” He reaches out and starts patting Derek’s boot. “Preeeetty.”

Derek steps carefully away from Stiles and smashes his head into the nearest tree. A cut appears on his eyebrow and then heals before he’s even wiped the blood away. Because Stiles is talking about riding Derek in his wolf form. Like he’s some kind of glorified pony. And Derek is so pathetically gone on this boy that he’d let him. He’d growl and snarl and snap his jaws and then he’d get down on his haunches and carry Stiles wherever he wanted to go.

He’s absolutely, definitively not disappointed that Stiles isn’t talking about riding him in his human form because that would be gross and creepy and taking advantage of Stiles’ intoxicated state.

Right, Stiles, who is drunk, and burrowing into a pile of leaves.

Derek sighs at his life and stomps over to pick Stiles up again.

“Whoa, spinny!” Stiles shrieks and clutches at Derek’s collar. When he’s got his feet back under himself he looks around and frowns. “Nooo, no standing, it’s nap time.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” Derek grumbles.

“Which is why it’s nap time,” Stiles insists, like it wasn’t his idea to get smashed in the woods in the middle of the night like an utter moron.

“You can sleep back at the loft, okay?” Derek bargains, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and hauling him forward.

“Mmm your bed,” Stiles groans, stuffing his face into Derek’s neck. “Been trying to get into your bed for months.”

Derek drops Stiles flat on his face.

                                                              *****

The first time Stiles walks into Derek’s loft and finds him cooking he’s so stunned that he forgets to actually stop walking and crashes into a table.

Derek raises an eyebrow without looking away from where he’s blanching (blanching) vegetables. Once Stiles has stopped rolling around on the floor he uses two bar stools to pull himself right-side-up and brushes himself off as nonchalantly as he can manage.

“You cook?” he asks, trying his hardest not to appear incredulous, but Derek is wearing oven mitts so it’s not really going too well.

Derek levels him with his patented ‘why am I dating an idiot?’ look. It’s very, very flat.

“Yes, Stiles, I can cook,” he says, and pokes at something sizzling in a pan. Stiles boggles. Derek raises his other eyebrow this time. “Why is this shocking? You know I eat.”

“Well, yeah, objectively,” Stiles agrees. “I just always assumed you lived off a diet of Hot Pockets, squirrels, and the tears of your enemies.”

So very flat.

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint. I’ll throw this in the bin and then head out to rustle up some woodland creatures.” He goes to turn off the burner and Stiles dives across the kitchen.

"No, no, no. This is good. This is — What is this?” Stiles takes a whiff and just about hits the floor again. “Oh god, feed me.”

(Stiles can cook too, but his speciality is sweet things. Derek couldn’t bake a cake to save his life. They’re a match made in culinary heaven.)

                                                            *****

"No,” Derek says sternly, giving Stiles everything his eyebrows have to offer. “Absolutely not.”

“What! Derek, come on, you know you want one,” Stiles wheedles, waggling his own eyebrows at Derek. He looks ridiculous and definitely not appealing.

“I have my hands full enough just trying to look after you.”

"Hey!” Stiles squawks. “I resent that! I am a fully functioning adult, thank you very much,” he says, puffing himself up.

All Derek has to do is glance pointedly at the thing curled up in Stiles’ arms and he puffs right back down again.

“I’ll keep her at my place! You won’t even know she’s there. I’ll take such good care of her, I swear.” Derek remains unmoved. Stiles pulls out the big guns. “Babe, please.” Damn him. “Just look at that face. You can’t say no to that face.”

The thing is, Derek is dangerously close to letting slip just how true that is. He’ll never be able to say no to Stiles. He might put up a token protest, but Derek knows that the second Stiles asks him for anything he’s already screwed.

And right now Stiles isn’t pulling his punches either. He’s got the big eyes and the pouty lips and his neck stretched out at the most perfect angle and Derek’s ready to fall to his knees and offer Stiles everything.

Except, what, no, not this time, Stiles is starting to make him legitimately insane.

“Who are you?! Hagrid?!” he exclaims. “Put the dragon down, Stiles.”

Stiles pulls this heartbroken face, and Derek is almost swayed except dragon.

“But she’s just a baby!” Stiles wails. “She doesn’t know how to look after herself.”

“She just singed off Scott’s eyebrows,” Derek says flatly. “I think she’ll be fine.”

(On the walk back to the Jeep Derek offers to buy Stiles a cat in place of the dragon, because they’re basically the same thing anyway and Derek is a sucker.)

                                                            *****

“I told you not to do it,” Derek sing-songs, condescendingly, not even looking up from his book. The ass.

“No you didn’t,” Stiles moans from his place on the couch. He removes his arm from his face to glare weakly at said ass. “You said, ‘As if you’d ever get your nipple pierced’. Which was basically a direct challenge. Which means of course I did it.”

Derek doesn’t even stop reading to roll his eyes at Stiles. He just kind of widens them slightly with a long-suffering look on his face. The ass.

"This is entirely your fault,” Stiles whines. Derek doesn’t respond at all.

Stiles wriggles around making pitiful noises until Derek snaps his book shut with a growl. “What.”

“It hurts,” Stiles sniffles.

“Well that’s because you poked a piece of metal through your flesh,” Derek bitches, but he gets up and walks over to the couch anyway. He lifts Stiles’ legs and settles himself down, Stiles’ thighs splayed across his lap. Then he curls his hand around Stiles’ knee and begins leeching his pain.

“Better?” he asks, and Stiles hums in the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s just about to drop off the edge of consciousness when something hot and wet envelops his nipple. Stiles jerks violently and finds Derek staring up at him from his chest, eyes dancing. He grins wickedly and flicks his tongue against the bar and Stiles melts.

(Derek ends up loving Stiles’ nipple piercing. Stiles lords it over him for months until Derek comes home with a piercing in a much more sensitive place. Stiles’ mouth is busy doing other things after that.)

                                                            *****

Derek went into this relationship with Stiles with his eyes wide open. Which basically meant he was expecting a lot of sex, because every second word out of the kid’s mouth was innuendo and he smelled constantly turned-on. And Stiles did not disappoint. There was a lot of sex. A lot.

Derek was not expecting the cuddling. But five months in Derek’s beginning to wonder if Stiles is actually a were-octopus and just hasn’t told him yet.

No matter how aggressively he spoons Stiles when they’re drifting off to sleep, he’ll always wake up buried under warm, clingy boy.

When Derek joined the Stilinski’s in visiting the Sheriff’s mother over Thanksgiving, he passed out alone on the couch and woke to Stiles wrapped around him, his face shoved under a throw pillow.

Stiles holds him in the shower, tucks Derek under his arm at pack movie nights, plasters himself to Derek’s back in the kitchen when he’s soft and tired-eyed.

The first time Stiles grabbed Derek’s hip and rested his head on Derek’s shoulder while they were both brushing their teeth Derek spent two whole minutes staring at him in the mirror. The first time. Now it feels weird whenever he’s not lopsided during his entire morning routine.

For years after Kate, Derek was uncomfortable being touched. Other people’s hands made his blood pump harder and his breathing turn shallower and his muscles coil up. Now, the safest he ever feels is when Stiles’ arms are snug around his heart.

Eighteen {KJM} (M)

Part 1 | Part 2
The Letter

Description: You’re an eighteen year old bartender and Junmyeon comes in with Baekhyun one day. He hits on you, then feels bad because you’re eighteen, then realizes he just doesn’t care. He likes you.

Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst

Word Count: 10,384

Warning: Smut

Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x Reader (feat. Baekhyun)

Author: Admin Xiufairy ㅅㅇㅅ

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

At eighteen, you were perfectly content working at a bar. You just served everybody who came up to you, it was that easy. It was fun for you, but if you had a penny for every time a much older man hit on you, you’d be rich enough to leave the country.

They all backed down when you told them that you were only eighteen thankfully, but you’d begun to wonder exactly why that changed people’s minds. It wasn’t as busy as usual that night, at least at the bar. The floor was always crazy and loaded with people.

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J2 NolaCon 2017 Main Panel
  • J2 jump onstage!
  • Jensen moving the chairs closer together before the panel even starts :)
  • Jensen doing the Who Dat song for the New Orleans Saints. 
  • Jared says the city killed his phone: “I’m trying to navigate to where Jensen is and it won’t work. Saw a lot of the city!” Referring to his adventures last night walking around NOLA. 
  • He was wandering around Bourbon Street trying to get cell service: “Searching…my buddy had already left and gone to the hotel.” 
  • Jared stopped at a bar for WiFi and someone told him, “Oh, so you’re dressed up as Sam Winchester from Supernatural” and they weren’t impressed when they found out he was the real deal. “So, you dress like him, too?” 
  • Since Jared’s phone died on him he got to rediscover what it’s like to walk around a new city without any phone gadgets. 
  • Jared says there’s gonna be Alex in the gag reel, and s13′s reel might be really long. 
  • J2 hopes that Alex will come to conventions soon!
  • Jared says “hazing” and Jensen says “welcome package” on the breaking-in of Alex. 
  • Jensen on Alex: It’s the first time they had to wrap me and him (Jared) first so the other person could work lol. 
  • J2 to Alex, who was worried about laughing in so many takes: “It’s okay, all your bosses know we’re assholes.” 
  • Question about lead roles. Jared: You mean Sam or Dean? You said lead roles. 
  • Jared jokes Misha has the best job in showbiz because he barely works and people think he’s a lead. If he could play anyone else it’d be Cas. 
  • Lead supporting roles? Jensen: I hear those come in briefs, also. 
  • Jensen jokes about Misha’s presence in the black room at the end of 13x03.  
  • Jensen, referring to the end of 13x03, says: Misha filmed that last scene in his bedroom. Jared: They took out all the toys…VFX’d away all the toys. Jensen walks away laughing. 
  • Jensen would be a wendigo ‘cause he’d be taller than Jared :P
  • Jared jokes that he wants to be a shapeshifter so someone else can play their characters but still get paid. 
  • Jared: I’d be a shapeshifter. Oh no, I shift myself… ba dum dum. Jensen tried so hard not to laugh. Couldn’t do it. Instead: “you shifted yourself AGAIN.” 
  • Jensen: Dean is in a turbulent state, lots of anger that’s a stage of grieving. You’ll see a transition in Dean about Jack, between now and ep 10. 
  • In s2 when Jensen saw the script saying he had to take a crowbar to the Impala he was like nooo. 
  • Jensen talks about taking things apart with his hands. J2 are now miming correcting a picture on the wall. 
  • During a scene there was a painting that had to be crooked for continuity and Jensen threw something in the scene and it swung into place lol. 
  • Jared: How funny would it have been if instead you just stopped and casually fixed it? 
  • Trick to emotional scenes? Jared doesn’t lie while acting, he just tells someone else’s truth. 
  • Jared: I love Sam! His hair is so great! Jensen: You say his hair is so gray? *makes face behind him* Jared: Dude I can see you! Jensen feigns innocence. 
  • Jared: I don’t like the word “tricks” when talking about being emotional. Jensen: I like to use tricks. 
  • Jensen: We’ve lived with these characters for so long that we naturally get emotional and no longer have to delve into our own emotions. 
  • Jensen is answering for Jared about how they get prepared and into the character’s heads for emotional scenes. 
  • “I love these characters…so if they’re going through something, I feel that. “
  • Jensen whispered “instinctual” right before Jared did. 
  • Jensen talks about how Jared reads script over and over whereas he goes into it more visceral and Jared builds on Jensen’s answer, links to Sam’s tendency toward research versus Dean being more reactive. 
  • J2 talking about Kim Manners. Jared: “He set the tone.” He wanted to make sure they had fun making the show. 
  • Jensen could talk for a week about how amazing Kim Manners was. 
  • Jensen about KM: “He put us on a path to succeed and we’ve been honoring him ever since.”
  • Jared: Kim truly cared about people. 
  • Jared goes wide-eyed when a baby screams in the audience. 
  • Jensen is excited about Stranger Things. 
  • Therapy question. Jared to a fellow parent: We also take our kids to a therapist because of our situation. Daddy isn’t around a lot. They want to help the kids understand why he’s not around so much. 
  • Gen and Jared go to counseling to learn how to parent the best they can especially with Jared not being around often. 
  • Jensen says acceptance is one of the biggest things we’re teaching in his home. Wants to teach his kids that they are loved and they give love. 
  • Fan. Hi I’m (name) from (St) Jared: Why did you have to read your name off your phone lol? 
  • J2 are fighting again about gif vs jif lol. Jensen: Jif is peanut butter! Gif is on your phone. 
  • Jared says single best part of being a celebrity is sending gifs of yourself to non celebrities. Jensen agrees. He loves text battling their friends with SPN gifs :P Jared’s fav gif of himself is the L’Oreal ones. Has sent it to everyone he knows lol.
  • Jensen: There are a lot of Supernatural gifs. I was like, hey, Jared, we’re popular…
  • Jared deferring to gif because Jensen said so. Jensen: Jared can be taught. 
  • Fan: First of all I wanna know if you have any single friends? Jensen walks over and points at Stephen . 
  • Do you like classic rock? Jensen: I like Big Butts. Jared: He does. 
  • Jensen: I named my kid Zeppelin. 
  • They’ve been trying to get Metallica on the show since day one. Finally got them this season. 
  • Jared: I have put everything I have into Sam. Jensen: makes a surprised/smirky face ;) Jensen laughs and Jared whispers something, Jensen laughs again. 
  • Sam has taught Jared a lot, including how he perseveres. 
  • Jared used the word indubitably while answering. Jensen: Did you just say indubitably? We talked about this, you’re embarrassing me. 
  • Jensen says there was more of a connection between he and Dean in the beginning seasons but now there’s a separation. Jensen: Sometimes I say, what would Dean do? 
  • Jared: Sam’s current position on Jack is how he feels about himself. Sam wants to believe he can be good. So he needs Jack to be good. 
  • Jensen talks about directing and how Bob Singer doesn’t need a bunch of notes like Jensen. While Jensen had a complete road map, Singer just had one note, “the ole switcheroo” to remind him of how he wanted a scene to go lol. 
  • Jared mentions Will and Grace. Jensen: Who will you be in this scenario? 
  • If there was an SPN movie, Jared wouldn’t want to use foul language. Jensen: *horrified face* Jared: I know words longer than four letters :P
  • Fan asks a question about what filming was like for Jensen and Sam Smith when Mary saw Baby for the first time. Jensen is confused, thinking Sam the character. Jensen: The scene took on a different tone in shooting than it had in the script. Jared: for Dean or Jensen? 
  • Last question: The scene where Dean sees Mary remembering what happened in Baby wasn’t scripted. That was Bob Singer. 
  • J2 thank the fans and give a fist bump before heading off stage :)

Info via: Fangasm, Cherie, Eileen, LullysSil’s livetweet list

Three Is Good Company [m]

Genre : Smut / Threesome 

Summary : In a series of perfectly placed moments you witnessed something you probably weren’t supposed to see.

First of all, you didn’t mean to see it. It just happened. Literally. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time…maybe right place but still, you weren’t supposed to see it. But then why was his door open!?

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what happens in vegas pt. 1

*I had to re-upload as i accidentally the original post!*

◇ summary: It was supposed to be a weekend of mischief and fun, but when your ex-boyfriend tags along you soon realize that what happens in Vegas, doesn’t always stay in Vegas

◇ pairing: reader x Jungkook

◇ genre: angst, smut, childhood sweethearts

◇ word count: 6,508

◇ warnings: alcohol use, language, explicit sexual content

“Please tell me why we are going to the airport at 4 in the damn morning?” you groan, handing your suitcase over to your cab driver who is trying hard not to laugh at your current state of sweatpants wrapped in a denim jacket.

Wendy rolls her eyes, “Y/N, we are only going to be in Vegas for 2 nights. We need to make the most of it. Plus, the tickets were like $100 less than if we left later in the afternoon. Just sleep on the plane.”

She gets in the back of the cab, hoping to close the door before your sharp tongue can come with a witty remark. But you aren’t about to let her off the hook that easily. You throw open the door, sliding into the seat next to her.

“Y/N, I don’t want to hear it. You are not going to ruin this for me! It’s my bacholerette party. I only get one” Wendy snaps, holding her hand to your face as you buckle your seat belt.

“If you’re lucky,” you mutter under your breathe, making your best friend smack your thigh loudly.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence as both of you are too tired to try and make conversation, especially since you had been up almost the entire night watching Wendy pick out her clothes for the next 2 nights. Two of you spent almost an hour picking out a black dress that looked identical to every other black dress she owned, but swore was different. As the dark purple circles settled under your eyes this morning, the only thing on your mind was getting through security and popping a Nyquil so that you could spend the rest of the flight in peace.

“We’re here,” Wendy whispers, shaking your shoulder to wake you up after what felt like five minutes. Her eyes shift past you, focusing the on something behind you, “I should have probably told you sooner, but Jungkook is coming.”

“And you’re telling me this now?” pointing to the airport outside the window “You decide to inform me that my ex-boyfriend is coming on this trip right now? You told me two days ago that he wasn’t coming because of work.” you hiss, chasing your best friend out of the car and towards the trunk.

“And he wasn’t going to! But then he called Namjoon yesterday and told him that he had managed to get the time off.” Wendy all but pleads for forgiveness, hiding behind the cab driver.

“You should’ve told him he wasn’t invited! That the plane was completely booked! The hotel was completely booked! Anything!”

She shrugs, “He’s Namjoon’s best friend, Y/N. And he had already bought his ticket, what was I supposed to do?”

You take your suitcase from the driver and make a beeline for the airport entrance, “I’m not speaking to you until we get to the gate.”

Wendy knows better than to push you when you’re upset, that law school and your work had given you a short fuse. Your attitude worked in the courtroom, helping your clients leave feeling happy and content and divorced while they fill your pockets with the end of their marriage. But it didn’t always translate the same to your personal life and most of your loved ones knew to stay far away when you were upset, knowing that your emotional time bomb was slowly ticking away.

It isn’t until you’ve both winded your way around the security line that you turn your attention to your best friend and ask, “Is he on our flight?”

Wendy chews on her lip before answering, “He and Namjoon are already waiting at the gate.”

You take a deep breath, trying your best to mentally prepare yourself for seeing your childhood sweetheart for the first time in almost a year.

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Free Styling 101: Unexpected Suggestions for Where You Should Go and How You Should Dress if You’ve Never Free Styled Before

     We’ve done it, best friend. We have agreed that free styling is the way to go. But if you are anything like me, you’ve known that there was a good argument to free style. You’ve read the posts that say to put on the best clothes you have and to just go out there and do it. Men will knock you over if you just dress up and go to the best bar in town. If you’re anything like me, you read each of those posts and then hopped right back on SA after rolling your eyes. Go free style they say. But there has to be so much more to it right?

     There isn’t. Now, wait a minute. Don’t roll your eyes at me. I don’t like those posts that feel like they’re just trying to throw us to the wolves, but there are some things that they got right. The most important one? 


To learn how to do anything, you’ve got to get out there and do it. 


     Duh. Simple but challenging advice. I’m going to suggest that you free style in a new way. But before we address the new way of doing things, let’s address the problem. Why don’t we free style?

     I think the problem can be answered with one simple phrase: fear of the unknown. That’s silly. One of two things will happen. You’ll meet someone and exchange numbers or you won’t. But let’s get specific. I think we always wonder where we should go, what we should wear, and how we should act. 


Where should you go the first time you free style? Some place you’re already familiar with. 


     Odd advice, I know. But have you ever gone to a restaurant or bar or where ever and been so uncomfortable and felt so out of place that the only thing you could think about was how long it was going to take for someone to recognize you were a fraud and kick you out? How good were you at freestyling that night? 

     Go where you’re comfortable. I don’t care if it’s a local dive bar or college hang out or it’s TGIFridays. Actually, I’d love it if you did go to the TGIFridays in the sort of suburban kind of affluent part of your city. The most interesting people hang out there. 

    Why should you go to a familiar place? Because then you won’t have to stress about what to wear, who will be there, what you should order, how you should behave. You’ve been to this place dozens of times. There’s nothing to think about. Nothing to be nervous about. You can go in with confidence. 


What should you wear? Well, that’s the beauty of starting in your comfort zone. 


What do you usually wear to this place? I don’t care what you wear as long as it’s not ratty sweats and a tee, but even that’s a lie. You can make ratty sweats and a tee super cute with the right accessories. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I leave the house in them. The most important things are your hair and makeup. But Shea, I’m not good at doing my hair or makeup, you say. Well, best friend, that’s why the ancestors helped us create YouTube. The trick is to master the basics. Learn how to apply foundation, put on blush, and maybe some lipstick if you’re feeling fancy. Learn a 20-minute hairstyle that you can’t possibly mess up. The less you do, the less likely you are to look crazy. 


                                         How should you act?


Like yourself. I could point you towards the women who have taken the time to write, in great detail, what you should say to a man that approaches you. But I have several problems with these scripts. The first is these scripts work for them, but you aren’t them. The second is what if the unsuspecting man deviates from the script (which he will)? What will you do when the training wheels are off? What will you do if, in your nervousness, you forget what you’re supposed to say (you will forget)? The third and most important is that pretending to be anyone besides the gorgeous person you are is both an insult to yourself and a supreme waste of your time. Don’t do it. Be you. It is exhausting to be anyone else and will make you look stilted and awkward. Be you. Everyone else is taken. 


             What do you do if a man approaches you?


Unless he’s chocolate wasted or belligerent, you talk to him. He’ll say something to start the conversation. You’ll say something back to keep it going (can’t think of anything to say? check this out) and a conversation will begin. Do you need to be attracted to him? Does he need to be rich? Does he need to be SD potential? No. No. And no. This is target practice best friend. We are not at all invested in whether you meet your SD in a dive bar. In fact, we are already positive that it won’t happen. The point is to sharpen your skills, to get you used to going out with the sole intention of attracting and maintaining the attention of men for as long as you desire. If he approaches, talk to him. You’ll find out what he does for a living. He’ll discover the same about you. Blahblahblah. You get ready to leave. You give the man your sugar phone number.


                                                  Then what?


Then you text him. For a week. Some of you have started pouting. Best friend, I’m sorry. I know some Tumblr blog told you that you’re supposed to be making money on every date you go on every single time you leave your house. I used to think that too, pumpkin. I want you to leave that idea alone. I want you to remember that you’ve had training for every job you’ve ever done and it’s the reason why you could do that job with confidence. This is training. You have one week to get this man to ask you to dinner at a restaurant that you find acceptable given his income (which you should have googled. He did give you his occupation). If you can’t accomplish that, dump him and get back in the bars and find another victim to practice on. If he does agree to dinner in an appropriate location, remember that post on figuring out if he’s cheap? Time to practice that too. At the end of the date, you should know if he’s a cheap or not. 

     What do you do with them when the date is over? That’s up to you. If you like him but still want to sugar you have two options. Keep dating him but don’t let it get so pressing that you lose sight of your sugaring goals. Or you can dump him and move on to the next victim (if you get caught up in love and relationships and feelings easily then this is how you want to go). Tell him you had an amazing time but you don’t think the two of you are the best fit for each other. Done. On to the next.


            What do you do if no one approaches you?


This may happen. The first time I free styled I sat at the bar and realized it was couples night. Great. I had two options. I could wallow in my sorrows, and my gin and tonic or I could pick my ass up and go somewhere else. I chose option two and met a very nice man whose family owned a local snack company. But there’s a chance that you’ll go to location two and no one will talk to you there either. There’s a chance. So you go home, and you restrategize. You figure out if it was you. Were you on your phone all night avoiding eye contact? Did you make eye contact and then quickly drop it thinking this made you look coy and cute (it doesn’t. if you make eye contact hold it for at least five seconds before looking away)? You figure out if it was the location or just an off night. These will happen. You’ll have a lot of them. I hope you have a lot of them. They will be how you learn. They will show you how badly you want this life or if you want it at all. I hope no one approaches you at first. If you give up at the first obstacle, you don’t deserve to win. It sounds mean, best friend, I know. But failure has been my best teacher. It has shown me what I really want and what I really like to talk about. Besides, this is just training remember? We didn’t expect to meet our future SD in TGIFridays.

Best friend, what do you think? Is this a free styling plan that you can get behind until you build your confidence or have I lost my natural mind? Tell me your thoughts and your plans. Let’s talk!

Pool balls and underpants

Summary: Bucky offers to teach you how to play pool, but he ends up in a slightly awkward predicament.
Characters: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Language, lots of innuendos, Bucky being little shit
Story prompt: “I made the mistake of thinking ‘This can’t get weirder.’ Sorry.”

A/N: First time I’ve done a writing challenge of any kind, thanks @jurassicbarnes​ for letting me take this one!  I haven’t written anything fluffy in awhile, this felt necessary, and it may require a smutty style follow-up. Also, while I may be a complete shit talker IRL, I am terrible at pool and don’t know what I’m doing, so hopefully this makes sense. And I really need to find someone to edit my wordy ass…

A/N 2: Oh look, I wrote a sequel. Another kinky wager.

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by go-fandom-imagines

It was a little known fact – you adored dive bars. Everything smells musty? Great. All the tables feel sticky? Perfect. The decor resembles a 1970’s porn set? Bitchin.

It was a complete contradiction to your work persona. Your name was uttered in hushed, reverent tones in the halls of the Avengers compound, commonly followed by the phrase ‘that woman gets shit done.’ Frankly, you worked your ass off to get to this point, so the satisfaction of being known as the one who was always cool, always calm, always poised – it was a heady feeling.

It’s because of your rigid work environment that you gravitated toward the local bar. It was one place you could let your guard down, unwind and relax. Distancing your professional and personal life was a necessary ingredient in your sanity, a dichotomy you actively encouraged.

And then one day out of nowhere, Bucky Barnes swaggered into your life.

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Pay For A Punch

A Bucky Barnes One-Shot

Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,349

Warnings: 18+, beginning of smut, mentions of sex, sexual tension, language, kissing, fluff.

A/N: This is my submission for @amarvelouswritings Bee’s 2.1k Challenge! This was fun and I really want to be the reader in this so bad! 

Prompt: “If I kissed you right now, what would you do?” 


You were aware of all the chatter happening around you, but all you could hear was the buzzing in your ears.

Anger.

It boiled the blood in your veins.

Who the hell did he think he was? You knew what you were doing. You were good at what you did. Tony wouldn’t have put you on the team unless he thought you were fit.

Countless hours in the gym training with Steve. Honing your combat skills every day with Natasha. Therapy sessions with Bruce. Perfect physical assessment from Dr. Cho.

You name it, you’ve done it.

But he is the only one who sees you as incapable. He undermined every move you made. He would tsk and tut at you when he disagreed. He had even patted your head like a petulant child once.

You would have stabbed him if Wanda hadn’t used her powers and tore the knife out of your hand.

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Lucky Me

Summary: Dean accidentally spills how he feels and decides to deal with it one of the only ways he knows how. Written from Dean’s POV

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1900

Warnings:  Language, fluff, drunk!Dean

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading. It has been awhile since I wrote from Dean’s POV and I’ve missed it. A special thanks to @free-bouquet-wasteland for helping me out

This is for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog RomCom Fluff Challenge. My prompt was “What’s there to talk about? She’s the best person I’ve ever known.”

Originally posted by lookprettyliveclassyplaydirty

Leaning against the bar I signal the bartender for another round. She’s cute, petite and gives me this big smile as she hands me three whiskeys, “Thanks sweetheart, keep the change.”

“Thank you.” She takes the cash off the bar as I grab the glasses, downing one before heading for the table. It wasn’t like Sammy was going to drink it anyways, he had his nose buried in some book. Jesus Christ that kid, we just get done with this hunt, celebrating, getting wasted and he’s already looking for the next one.

“Where’d she run off to?”

Sam looks up, then glances over to where she had been sitting, “Oh, she’s over kicking some poor guy’s ass at pool.”

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