Summary: Soulmate!AU - When your soulmate gets hurt you receive a flower tattoo on your body on the same location they were wounded. Imagine (Y/N) having her whole left arm covered in flowers while Buckys whole hand was covered in them.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2.3k
Warning: There really isn’t any, unless you’re afraid of Bucky finding happiness. If you’re afraid of that I feel sorry for you.
A/N: First soulmate au?? Been wanting to do this one long before I started this blog??
When Bucky grew up he didn’t have flowers on him like the other kids. Nobody ever knew that, of course, he was good looking enough to get whoever he wanted at his hip. That’s one main reason why he got along with Steve, Steve never got any either. They both believed maybe they weren’t destined to have a soulmate, of course there was the option that their soulmates maybe never have been hurt but it was a long shot.
After being woken up from his cryogenic stasis and retrieving most of his memories back he realized his whole right hand was covered in flowers. He never believed he had a soulmate but it registered in his head that his soulmate was from a different time period than what he was from. He soon also figured out that Steve also had the same issue; He had a soulmate but was destined to meet them after he woke up from his frozen state.
As for (Y/N)? She had millions of flowers. Some were randomly placed on her body, Bucky had them as well. But the ones that stood out the most were the full sleeve she had on her left arm. She often hid it but lately she began to flaunt it off. Her soulmate had to have had something messed with their whole left arm, it wouldn’t have been that hard to point out in public too. She always looked out for the left arms of strangers in public, but she never had good luck.
Not only that but (Y/N) constantly looked at the hands of people as well. She knew they would have flowers there. She wasn’t as normal and ordinary as others, she had powers that nobody else had. She hid them, she knew what happened to people after they showed others the gifts they possessed. She was practically a human torch, she could heat up anything she wanted. When she was younger she was practicing and accidentally burned her hands, it was so bad that she couldn’t use them for weeks and had to make up an excuse that she did it while cooking something. Of course everyone believed her because nobody thought of the alternative that she had super powers. She hated the way her hands looked, scars covered them from her wrist to the top of her fingers, she would never go anywhere without hiding them with gloves.
She was cleaning up the counters of her job in the middle of the day when an oddly large group walked in. She sighed to herself knowing she would have to take care of them because the only other person on duty was already at another table. (Y/N) was wearing a classic blue and white waitress outfit and her jacket, it was a chilly day so nobody obliged to her clothing choices. She often wore a jacket anyways, only due to the tattoos crawling up her left arm.
(Y/N) walked up to the table that the group had chose to sit at before preparing herself to take their orders. She flipped open her small notebook before taking the pen out of her pocket, plastering a fake smile on her face.
“Hello, I’m (Y/N). I’ll be your waitress today, if you need anything please run it by me! I can order your drinks if you would like and while I go make them I’ll give you time to choose what you’d like to order.” She gave a toothy smile before looking at everyone, waiting for someone to point out what they’d like to drink.
“I’ll just have a water, please.” The blonde male spoke up first and gave you a smile.
“Me too, I’d like a water.” His darker friend next to him ordered the same thing and thanked her shortly after.
“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake and my pal here would like a coffee, please.” A redhead clapped her hands before patting her older friend on the back, receiving a glare that soon turned into a joking smile.
“And you two?” (Y/N) looked at the two males who haven’t given a drink yet. One was looking at the menu while the other was staring off into his lap.
“I suppose you don’t have alcohol here, do you?” A bearded (and clearly) wealthy man gave her a look before setting the drink menu down.
“No sir. The only drinks we have are on that menu.”
“Then I’ll just have a shake as well. Make it a mint.”
She wrote down the drink before focusing her gaze on the quiet man. His head was down and his conscience clearly wasn’t with the rest of them. His long brown hair overlapped most of his face and a hat was covering his eyes. He wore a baggy black sweatshirt and gloves. If anything, he didn’t want to be there and it was very noticeable.
“He’ll have a water too, thanks.” The same blonde from earlier spoke up on the quiet mans behalf. She nodded with a smile before returning to behind the counter to make the drinks. She was almost done until a bit of the mint milkshake spilt onto the sleeve of her jacket. She cursed quietly to the point where only she could hear herself and removed her jacket, setting it in the back room before looking at her tattooed arm in disgust. She always wanted to flaunt her arm around but never while on the job. She mostly got bad looks from it and it often decreased her chances on a tip. If it meant less money, then she wasn’t a big fan.
She finished the drinks before placing them onto a tray and carrying them to the table with one hand. She set half of it down on the table and half balanced with her knee before she started to hand them out towards everyone. When she was finished she set the tray under her arm and pulled out her notebook once again to write down the orders of the group. She smiled to the few who thanked her for the drinks.
“Have enough time to figure out what you want to eat?” She put on the same fake smile as before. They ordered their food one after one and yet again the quiet man was the one that was last to order. She looked up at him only to realize his eyes were strongly fixated onto her arm. Her confidence completely dropped knowing the meaning behind his stare, every time a customer laid eyes onto her arm she felt insecure, she felt as if she should apologize like it was her fault, and so she did.
“I am so very sorry, sir. I’ll go put on my jacket.” She was about to quickly go throw on her stained jacket before he spoke up in a deep, raspy voice. It was the first words he had spoken since he entered the building.
“Why do you wear gloves?” She stopped in her tracks and stared at his with wide eyes. By this point the rest of the group had realized why he was so interested in her arm and hands. They all shared the same look, they all wondered if this was Buckys soulmate.
“To hide what’s underneath.” Her eyebrows were furrowed at the mysterious man. She had to admit, she had no idea what his deal was. First he stares at her arm and then asks what she is hiding underneath the leather on her hands. Of course, she was oblivious to what was happening but perhaps it’s because she didn’t know what was under his left arms sleeve.
Buckys right arm pulled down the zipper of his jacket before tearing it off. At the same time he ripped off the gloves from his hands and stared at the flowers inked perfectly around his palms. (Y/N)’s eyes widen as she looked at the cybernetic limb connected to his body. His whole left arm was missing, and her whole left arm was covered. Bucky raised his human hand and showed her the printings on it, his eyebrow raised as he focused his gaze on her covered hands.
Overcoming her ego, she set the tray and notebook down on a nearby table before unbuckling the bucks on her gloves and sliding them off. Her hands were burnt beyond any recognition, if it weren’t for the obvious figure by her fingers and palms, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was actual human flesh. Bucky soon stood up and walked towards (Y/N).
“Come with me.” He whispered into her ear with a stern voice. She quickly caught on before grabbing her notebook and handing it to her co-worker. Her co-worker nodded in agreement, by the look on (Y/N)’s face she knew she needed a moment. She quickly thanked her before running out the front doors to meet up with the stranger who just so happened to possibly be her soulmate. When she walked out he had his hat in one hand balanced on his hip and his other was running through his hair. They stood there silently for a minute before he looked her in the eye and spoke up.
“I have a line of flowers on my lower back.” His hand went to the neck of his shirt before lifting up a bit to show the tattoo on his back. (Y/N)’s hand came to cover her mouth. It was the same scar she received when she was little, it reach from the lower part of her back to the middle. If she wasn’t wearing a dress she would have showed him then and there to prove to him.
“You’re my soulmate.” She spoke through her hand. He hands dropped to his sides as he stared at face. He stared at every detail noticeable by the human eye before looking at her burnt hands covering her lips. He saw the way her nose perked out, the way her (Y/E/C) eyes stared at his. Her eyes were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he could stare at them for hours. He stared at her luscious (Y/H/C) hair and the way it was perfectly laying above her shoulders.
“God, you’re beautiful.” His hand hesitantly came up and caressed hers, overlapping her cheek. Within a second her hands snaked around the boys neck and pulled his body into a tight hug. His body tensed up from the contact but soon after he relaxed and put his around her waist. She set her head in the crook of his neck and smelt his amazing aroma. After a moment of standing there (Y/N) opened her eyes and saw his friends staring out the side window at them. She let out a small giggle before pointing into their direction.
When Bucky turned around he let out a big scoff before giving them the finger, his lips turned into a smile once he heard the beautiful, moment-stopping laugh escaping her lips. He grabbed her hand before giving it a kiss and staring at the scars left on her.
“You shouldn’t hide your hands, you know.”
“And you shouldn’t hide your arm.”
Bucky had stayed with (Y/N), sitting at the bar stool where she normally would be behind the stand. His friends soon left after eating and patted him on his back, knowing he was going to stay for a while. They talked all night like normal people having a normal conversation. He learned about her past and she learned about his.
“So why exactly did you feel the need to put your jacket on earlier when I was looking at your arm? And why do you wear the gloves? I mean I understand the looks you would get from people, I get them too when people see my arm but… I’m just asking why you care of what others think.”
She set the last dirty dish into the washer before turning it on and facing him. “It doesn’t give you the best reputation.” She removed the rubber gloves from her hands and placed them into the trash before lifting her hands and studying every crease and imperfection.
“I hate being known as the girl with the burnt hands. I hate receiving stares and sympathy looks. I hate walking down the street and hearing someone whisper ‘that really must have hurt’. People who want their food suspect that a well professional, that isn’t covered in ink and scars will serve them, hiding them not only satisfies their needs but it gets me more money. It’s just how business works.”
His hands reach for hers and brought them up to his lips. He kissed the top of her hand over and over and looked into her eyes.
“Don’t ever feel like you need to hide anything from me. You’re my soulmate and I wouldn’t want you any other way. Besides, your arm is my fault anyways. If I hadn’t lost my arm then-” (Y/N) smiled at him before cutting him off.
“Don’t. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” His teeth shined through and she mimicked his smile. They had been there hour after hour talking about anything and everything. It was the first time Bucky had truly opened up to someone and he didn’t regret it at all. He loved the way she would smile and laugh at any joke he said, whether it was funny or not. He loved the way she would give him a concerned and loving look after he shared a hurtful memory from his past. He loved the way she would listen to every word he would say, thoughtfully while simultaneously thinking of the perfect thing to say back. He wasn’t even suppose to originally come to this restaurant at first but Steve insisted, and he didn’t regret giving into his best friends wishes. He didn’t regret anything he did in his life because it all led up to this moment, the moment where he met the love of his life.
He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He didn’t regret a thing.
A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO
The motel door opens quietly and you hear Dean shuffle in, his footsteps easy to recognize. You don’t move, body too exhausted to even roll over in bed and say hi.
Sam has to know that Dean comes to your room every night now. Actually, Dean just goes straight in with you now more often than not, leaving Sam to himself. You’ve never discussed it, but you suspect that Sam’s silence on the matter of you and Dean is his thank you for finally having some privacy on a regular basis.
Either way, you aren’t remotely surprised that Dean is here. You listen to boots being kicked off, a gun being placed on the night stand, and clothes being shuffled off. He’s down to his boxers when he slides beneath the covers.
Character(s): Stiles Stilinski/Reader, Stuart Stilinski/Reader, Thomas Stilinski/Reader, Mitch Stilinski/Reader
Word Count: 5668
Notes: Here y'all go. Finally here. So, there’s a lot of warnings for this one, let’s go. *cracks literally every fucking none in my body as preparation* Oral (both receiving), Fingering, Orgy, Multiple Orgasms, Spit Play, Anal, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Squirting, Double Penetration, Thigh Riding, Face Riding, Marking, Biting, Scratching, Over Stimulation, Shower Play, Exhibitionism, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Begging, Dominance, Older/Younger, Orgasm Denial and Choking/Gagging. Huge thanks to Steffy because even though she doesn’t like butt stuff, she proofread this for me. If that ain’ true friendship then I don’t know what is. I love you @dumbass-stilinski <3
Rings add weight to the area of life that the finger represents, or could reveal imbalances. A ring placed with intent can enhance areas of your life. This can be strengthened by rings with corresponding crystals. When a ring is worn unconsciously, it more likely refers to the negative trait or imbalance that corresponds with that finger.
Corresponds to your personal and private life. Connected to family and personal identity or internal issues. Your left hand reflects the energy you take in.
Relates to your public life. Connected to work and your relation to society. Your right hand reflects the energy you give out.
Considered the finger of cultural identity. It reflects how you related to justice, law, order, and responsibility. Can also signify inner security or materialism. Consciously placed ring: Reduce anxiety, improve stability, desire for self-development. Unconsciously placed ring: domestic unhappiness, insecurities, judgmental, lack of security. Crystals: garnet, onyx, agate, topaz, tiger’s eye, jade.
Considered the finger of personal identity, how you relate to and see yourself. Associated with leadership, ambition, and self-confidence. Consciously placed ring: Boost self-esteem, increase authority, improve confidence. Unconsciously placed ring: Damaged self-esteem, feeling not good enough, feeling better than others, controlling personality. Crystals: tourmaline, lapis lazuli, peridot, opal, emerald.
Represents your extra-personal identity and self-expression. It represents creativity and love of beauty. If it’s a wedding ring or engagement ring, it represents success in finding a mate. But if bought by the wearer it can represent self-love. Consciously placed ring: Strengthen creativity, express friendliness, improve aesthetic awareness. Unconsciously placed ring: Creative frustration, concern with image, desire to be liked. Crystals: garnet, ruby, pink tourmaline, diamond.
Considered the finger of impersonal identity. It reflects communication and sexuality. Also represents confidence in relationships and strength. Consciously placed ring: Improve communication, express sexuality/sexual identity, gain confidence in regards to relationships. Unconsciously placed ring: Poor communication, lies, difficulty with sexuality/sexual identity Crystals: blue topaz, sapphire, aquamarine.
Your thumb symbolizes your spiritual identity. It relates to your will power, determination, and application of personal energy. It also reflects your ability to reason and apply logic. As the thumb is separate from the rest of the fingers, and a very useful finger, it also represents strength, independent thought, and freedom. Consciously placed ring: Boost energy level, increase will power/motivation, provide comfort, increase reasoning, increase personal strength and independence. Unconsciously placed ring: lack of energy, feeling powerless, lack of control, poor reasoning, feeling trapped, stubborn/stuck in own way, need for control, aggressive/forceful Crystals: moonstone, diamond, amethyst.
Rings on all/many fingers
This can indicate a negative circumstance that you are being faced with. It shows a likely lack of feeling safe or secure in your world, and that your putting on a front. It can also signify avoidance to deal with issues affecting your life.
Gansey dangled his hand between the driver’s seat and the door. Palm up, fingers stretched back to Blue. This was not allowed. He knew it was not allowed, by rules he himself had set… She would not see the gesture, anyway. She would ignore it if she did. His heart hummed. Blue touched his fingertips.
Dean’s never been much of a romantic. He hates grand gestures and overt sentiment. So when he gives Castiel his old ring, the one that belonged to Mary, there’s no fireworks and champagne. He twists around in bed, grabs the ring from where it rests on his nightstand, and thrusts it towards a barely awake Castiel.
“Here,” he says, gesturing at Cas with the ring.
Cas blinks against the lamp light, eyes warm and soft with sleep. “What’s this?”
Dean rolls his eyes, impatient. “It’s a ring, asshole.” A slight flush rises on his neck. “Just…just take it.”
Cas looks closer at the ring Dean’s pinching between his fingers. “That’s yours, Dean. I can’t take that from you.”
“Oh,” says Dean, closing in on himself almost imperceptibly. “I mean, I can get you your own, if you want, I just thought…” His hand falters, and the flush on his neck travels further down, filtering onto his chest.
Realisation crosses Cas’s face, and he seems to wake up properly. “Oh,” he says. “No, Dean. No, it’s wonderful.” He reaches his hand up, gently clasps the back of Dean’s neck, thumb stroking the line of his jaw. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s nothin’,” Dean mumbles, turning his head, kissing Cas’s palm. “I just wanted you to have it.”
Cas removes his hand, but Dean catches it, presses the ring into the centre of his palm, closes Cas’s fingers around it. Cas smiles, holds the ring up to the light, turns it in his fingers. He holds up his other hand, spreads his fingers. “Where should I…?”
Dean sighs, grabs the ring and Cas’s left hand, slides the ring gently but firmly onto Cas’s fourth finger. “Here,” he says, gaze catching on Cas’s adorned hand. “Probably here.” He runs his thumb over the silver band where it rests warm against Cas’s skin.
He feels Cas start to nose in along his cheek, so he turns his head and kisses him, long and soft. This is how he wants Cas: warm and rested and safe and whole and alive, in his arms and in his bed. For the rest of his life.
Reminder that you have to ramble about galra facial features.
[Edited and updated 4/6/17]
Okay so this was something I had to think about because there’s been several times where I’ve looked at fanart, including my own, and had this moment of “this… is not a galra, this is a person spraypainted purple with color contacts and cat ears slapped on” and part of this is, I’ve had to look at canon galra and figure out what quite is the difference here.
Because the Galra are definitely what we’d call humanoid, but, they’re set up differently from humans.
I want to put this here as a reference, but I’m also putting it under a cut because there’s a lot of images to be had. But here goes!
this is my first time writing something like this so let me know how you like it! i wrote this with a lot of help from @jisoodrinkssopretty so go follow her. she wrote the entire wonwoo part and bits and pieces of dk, mingyu, minghaos as well.
Well Seungcheol’s forearms are no joke so I imagine him like wrapping them around your waist like so tightly? Until you guys are like completely flush against each other and can feel every part of the other person’s body bc that’s just how our coups likes it. He’s probably a really slow kisser in the sense that he likes taking his time coaxing your lips to move. Idk if that makes sense but that’s how I imagine seungcheol would like to kiss you. Favorite toe of kisses are open-mouthed kisses ngl.
Okay so i know Jeonghan is sometimes a brat but he’s also rlly chill and lazy so he’s going to be giving out lazy kisses and he’s kinda lax doing it. like he’ll literally wrap an arm around your shoulder give you like a quick kiss to the forehead because he can’t rlly be bothered to reach your lips. BUT WHEN HE DOES it’s so nice and like slow bc he’s in no hurry lol and he’ll like run his fingers up and down your spine because why the heck not. He’s very touchy during kisses.
Joshua’s probably that person who tilts your chin up gently with his knuckles so he can look into your eyes as he leans in and then he lets your noses brush really softly before he presses his lips against yours and his eyelashes are long so they’ll tickle your cheeks and it’s a wonderful experience I bet. Every kiss with him gives you butterflies. I also feel like he’s a biter but we won’t get into that. but, like, hickies and stuff okay bye.
JUN. I personally think jun wouldn’t cup your cheeks but your jawbone. Like you know,,, his thumb is behind your ear and his fingers are in your hair? yeah that sounds nice. then he’d bring you in and kiss your forehead then your nose then he’d probably pull away and pretend he didn’t want to kiss you on the lips but when you pout he gets all teasing like “well if I’m that irresistible to you~” His favorite place to kiss you is your shoulder; he loves kissing your skin so much.
Hoshi is probably gonna try and make it playful tbh. like you think he’s gonna be all romantic but sometimes he just wants to pepper kisses all over your face and skin (comPLETELY AVOIDING YOUR LIPS) until you get frustrated bc who doesn’t want soonyoung’s lips amirite? So then he’ll just giggle in your face and run off and you’ll chase him like “soONYOUNG!!!” Then he likes to grab you and tickle you until he’s hovering over you and I think you know where I’m going with this…
I feel like Wonwoo would just randomly give you back hugs and kiss your cheek and maybe if you turn around in his hold he’d give you a proper kiss but I think he’s more of a cheek kisser than anything. Even though he’s not really into kisses that much every now and then like maybe if he had a bad day or just missed you he’d grab your hand and lead you to the couch and he’d sit first, then pat his leg or something so you’d sit on him and he’d just kiss you slowly and make sure you knew how much he cared about you. Throughout that kiss he’d probably lift your shirt up a little bit and rub circles in your skin with his thumbs.
Woozi definitely wants to dominate bc of obvious reasons, like he wants to be in charge. So his kisses are probably more aggressive but like who’s complaining lol. He’ll grab your waist but not like scoups does, oh no. He likes to grip the sides of your hips and pull you into him. Then he probably tries to smirk or smth and you think it’s sorta cute but shh don’t tell him bc he’s trying to be seductive. then like his hands end up in your hair bc he likes how soft it is. He likes to untangle your hair while the two do you are kissing bc it distracts him from how fast his heart is beating.
When I think of Seokmin I always think of smiles and happiness bc wow this boy is full of laughter. Honestly he’s probably a super sweet kisser, and it’s kind of like the two of you are married because he’s always giving you chaste kisses here and there that never lead to anything more?? ever?? BUT sometimes he just really needs to feel your lips against his and that’s when he just kind of doesn’t pull away after a peck. Instead, he’ll slow the pecks down and prolong them, until he’s successfully turned a chaste kiss into a makeout session. Heaven knows he’s going to smile while kissing you, then he likes to lean against your forehead as he giggles quietly bc this boy is just so giddy to be kissing you.
Okay so I can see Mingyu being super sweet as well but he’s also a bit awkward so he would probably start out smooth and then mess it up (at least in his head it’s messed up but you don’t care bc it’s cute and sentimental). Okay so he’ll probably like brush your cheekbones gently with his knuckles or something, just to kind of get you flustered at his little gestures. But then he kinda ruins the smoothness by completely misaligning himself and bumping his nose into yours. Anyway once the kissing actually starts it’s amazing. He’s probably a person who gets into it too quickly and ends up scraping his teeth against yours but it’s cool he slows down eventually.
Minghao probably loves to kiss your neck. Honestly his favorite thing would be to give you a back hug and just continuously peck the nape of your neck. If it’s not your neck, it’s your collarbones. Minghao just loves to feel your skin against his mouth and yeah but when he does kiss your lips be prepared. He pulls moves out of nowhere like where was he hiding all them? no one knows he only uses them on you and you definitely aren’t opposed. He likes to squeeze your waist because it makes you part your lips and that’s when he can show you just what he can do ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I imagine that Seungkwan would be all about the fluffy/cutesy aspects of a relationship. His gestures would be really heartfelt, and he would pay you a lot of attention to show you just how much you mean to him. He would want to hold your hands and then pull you in and give you a lil peck then like smile to himself before leaning in and giving you a velvety kiss. He is also a huge advocate of hand kisses. Wants to kiss your hands 24/7. Your palm, your fingers, your wrists, Seungkwan finds your hands very pretty and kissable.
Vernon is the whole reason I made this post like I promise I’m a Jun girl but sometimes Vernon makes my heart just go zoooommm. Anyways,,, I bet Vernon is one of those people that cups his s/o’s face when he kisses them just saying. It’s true tho, like he’s got the hands for it and his biceps would flex naturally as he pulled you closer. It’s probably sort of sloppy and innocent because he’s not used to it, so you’d like hold onto his wrists and gently maneuver him to get a better angle?? if that makes sense like you’d have to help him bc he’s still too shy to move the kiss into deeper territory.
It’s hard for me to see Chan in a romantic light bc I see him as a bff and not a bf but that’s about to change!!! I think he would be the sweetest kisser. Probably cups the back of your neck and is already cheesin before his lips touch yours because he’s just so happy to be kissing you. His style is probably a mix of vernon’s and jeonghan’s tbh. He’d be a bit shy but also pretty slow because he likes to take his time. He wants every kiss to be perfect because he’s just a tad bit insecure that you might think he’s a bad kisser. Spoiler alert: you don’t think he’s a bad kisser at all. Bonus: He’s a huge supporter of giggly eskimo kisses.
Summary: You lost your hand in an explosion and receives a metal one similar to Bucky’s.
Warnings: Injury (??)
Words: 2 192
Y/N: Woah it’s been a while since I posted I’m sorry bout that. Anyway, here’s some random Bucky thing I had in mind!
She slowly began to detect the light behind her closed eyelids. Images of the accident crashed into her mind like a hurricane, causing her heart to start beating furiously. She could still hear her own scream, still feel the pain.
“Y/N?” She could have sworn it was Bruce speaking, but his voice sounded distant. She could barely hear it.
She remembered the deafening ringing in her ears after the bomb had gone off. The warm wetness of her own blood on her face, staining her skin gruesomely. She remembered her body becoming paralyzed from the agony. Her throat had began to taste of blood from her dry and almost inhumanly loud scream.
“Y/N?” It was Steve, and she was certain this time around. She could hear him call her name somewhere in her dazed head. She wanted to pry her eyes open and look at the man, but she couldn’t.
She felt the numbness in her entire, right arm and felt her breathing become shallow as she realized what awaited her when she’d come to her senses.
“Calm down, Y/N. You’re okay now, alright? We’re all back at the Tower. Everyone of us are here and no one else is hurt.” Steve rambled, trying to reassure her. She wanted to cry both because she was scared and because she was happy. She didn’t cry for neither of those reasons as her body finally allowed her to even open her eyes.
The bright lights felt as if they burned her eyes like the sun itself. Her vision was blurry and unfocused yet she detected movement around her.
“Hey…” She felt the warmness of a hand on her arm, seeing what she recognized to be Steve’s figure in front of her. “Are you good? Do you feel okay?”
She shook her head no, but he knew what she meant. Bruce came to the other side of the hospital bed she laid in and and placed his hands on the handles along the sides.
“You remember, don’t you?” He suspected, eyes looking down at her with pity as she slowly nodded. Bruce and Steve exchanged a look over the bed before turning to look down at her again.
“Just take it slow. Remember that even if it isn’t your own flesh, it’s still you.” Steve smiled painfully and squeezed her left arm softly for further reassurance.
Not having it in her to wait any longer, she turned her head slightly towards her right and looked down, seeing the metal hand rest at her side and reaching up to her forearm where its edge was hidden behind bandages, her reddened and scarred arm continuing above the tightly wrapped fabric.
She whimpered, feeling sick to the very core of her bones. She couldn’t feel her entire arm due to the sedatives, but she would never be able to feel her hand again. It was gone, blown away by the bomb she had tried to grab and throw away before it exploded. Obviously, she had failed, and she would have to live with her actions for the rest of her life.
“Bucky has been with you day and night since we got home, but when you started to wake up, he said he couldn’t see your reaction to all of this, so he left…” Steve explained as he was sure she had already wondered where Bucky was, and he was right. Amongst the first things she noticed was the lack of his presence in the room as she woke up. She couldn’t be mad at him though. He had suffered through the loss of a limb before. Watching someone else do the same would bring up old memories she doubted were even remotely pleasant.
The change of subject calmed her down and distracted her from her lack of a right hand. Yet, she still thought of it subsequently as she thought of when Bucky would visit her.
“Don’t try and move your arm yet. You need to heal and rest before you do anything, arm or not… But I have to say, Tony did a superb work.“
She nodded before her mind began to drift again. "How long have I-” Steve held up a hand kindly to hinder her from speaking further and straining her voice.
“Two days, going on your third.” Steve answered, studying her closely to figure out how she was feeling. The amount of time she had been out did not seem to bother her but he could see her eyes continuously trying to catch a glimpse of her hand.
“Did everyone else make it?” She bit her lip as she tried to contain the overwhelming emotions that came crashing down on her like a wave.
“Yes. Everyone’s alright.” He assured. “You saved their lives… You’re a hero.”
She huffed, looking away from Steve. She didn’t feel like a hero even the slightest. She did not see their mission as accomplished but as failed. How could she be a hero when a third of her arm had been blown off? She didn’t understand Steve’s logic at all.
“It’s true.” He attempted to convince her. “I don’t doubt you feel pretty roughed up right now, but you saved the lives of a dozen people. Your sacrifice saved them.”
She bit down on her lip. She could feel the unexplainable loss of her hand. It felt as if it should be there at the same time as she could feel it was gone. She swore she could feel the tip of her fingers, but she didn’t feel them at all. It was all games that her mind played.
“When can I move it?” She managed to ask Bruce who had been silent for a while. He cleared his throat and looked down at her bionic hand.
“Your nerves were also injured in the explosion. Your new hand is already connected to your nerve system but it will all need a few days to heal and adapt.” He looked her in the eyes briefly. “An exact time is impossible to determine.”
She nodded vaguely and propped her head to the center of her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Only a second after, the door opened, and in came Bucky. She looked up at him but he didn’t meet her stare. His glossed-over eyes went instantly to her hand and his jaw tightened. He would never admit it, but he had cried for her. The turmoil and torture he had gone through because of his own arm was too much for himself to grasp. For something so awful to happen to such a pure girl like Y/N had been harder on him than he would have thought.
“Bucky helped a lot.” Steve said as he noticed his old friend stare speechlessly at Y/N’s new hand. She looked up at Steve. “He let Tony completely break down his arm to create as good of a hand as we could for you.”
She barely believed the Captain. “Really?” She turned towards Bucky whose cheeks were flushing red. “Thank you.”
He didn’t want to be thanked. He wanted to be forgiven. He should have attempted to disarm the bomb, not Y/N. It should have been him.
Bucky made his way to the roof of the Stark Tower, knowing Y/N was there. Ever since Tony was so kind to build a medium sized greenhouse there after her accident, knowing how much she loved gardening, she had dedicated most of her wake time to her hobby. Partially it was because she liked gardening, the other part was because she was hiding from everyone. She didn’t want them to see her struggle with her new hand but would rather practice alone.
The luscious greenhouse came into his sight. The plants around the walls grew so thickly it was impossible to spot Y/N through them. He walked up to the open, glass door and looked down the pebble isle in the center. Further down the isle, Y/N was kneeling on the soft rocks and holding a watering can with both her hands.
He knocked twice on the open doors to make her aware of his presence. Her eyes snapped up in surprise and almost as if it was a reflex, her left hand covered her fright one.
“You don’t have to hide it.” He said as he took slow steps further inside the warm and humid greenhouse which smelled heavenly of jasmine and white tobacco. “Not to me.”
He waved his left arm in the air childly and smiled as he heard her chuckle softly at his goofy behavior. Her smile faded and she looked down at her hands. Hesitantly, she dragged her left hand away and exposed the metal one to the rays of sunshine that managed to seep past the greenery around her. Bucky stared at it, hating that he felt comfort from such a tragic thing. He just didn’t want to be alone, and he wish Y/N would somehow understand that.
“How are your plants feeling?” He tried to have a casual conversation. He walked inside to the opening in the isle where there was a small shed for all of Y/N tools but also a bench where Bucky took a seat.
She shook her head clear, trying to keep up with his mood swinging and topic changing. “Good.” Her eyes traveled around her personal slice of heaven which she was unimaginably grateful for. Her eyes locked onto the rich, red strawberries which grew along the pathway through the greenhouse in a narrow line. She picked a big and juicy looking one, standing up and bringing it to Bucky. “Here, try it! It’s a mix of strawberries and wild strawberries. They’re extra sweet.”
Bucky raised his metal hand and Y/N hadn’t realized she had picked the strawberry with her right one, her new one. Embarrassed and ashamed, she still placed the berry in Bucky’s palm. Their fingers accidentally touched and the metal on metal clinked. She pulled her hand back and took a deep breath. She tried to convince herself to stop being such a baby, especially considering that it was Bucky sitting in front of her who had a metal hand of his own to care about.
He took a bite of the strawberry and chewed on it for a bit longer to let the flavor get to him. After a few moments, he let out a small grown and nodded pleasingly. “That is ridiculously good.” He looked at the rest of the strawberry in his hand with amazement. “I’m just gonna put it on the record, but if you get up here one day and all of your strawberries are gone, it might have been me.”
She chuckled again and it warmed him to see her happy. God knows she deserved it.
“How are you doing, by the way? I know you don’t want to talk about your hand but I just want to know that you don’t need help handling things or something.” He couldn’t contain himself. The reason he had came up to her greenhouse was to see that she was alright. Of course, he didn’t at allied just watching her care for her flowers and other greens. He simply enjoyed being in her presence and there was something peaceful about the small greenhouse she had created on the roof of the Stark Tower, surrounded by city everywhere you looked. He loved it, just as she did.
She looked down at her hand. It was still wrapped with bandages where the metal was connected with the skin. She knew how it looked underneath, and it looked bad. Her skin was sizzled and the dents where bubbles had formed in the heat of the explosion had created round dents in her skin. It was brutal, grotesque, and she didn’t want to ever remove it.
“Alright.” She said after a long pause. “I mean, I’m doing fine. I can do practically anything. It’s the mental part that’s not really keeping up.” She tried to laugh it off, like it wasn’t a big deal, but Bucky knew it was. He had been in her shoes more times than she could imagine. Broken and afraid, hating yourself.
“I’m always here, you know that right?” He startled her by asking. He had never been so open to her before. “If you ever want to talk, you know. I’m one of the few around here that can relate to what you’re going through.”
She huffed again, almost laughing. “You’re the only one Bucky. Last time I checked, no one else has a bionic limb here.”
He leaned back on the bench, eating up the rest of the strawberry casually. “Even more reason for you to spend some extra time with me.”
Author’s Note: Another song-based one shot. This one’s inspired by The Weeknd’s House of Balloons jam, “The Morning”. (Y’all should listen to it.)
OTP(s): Park Chanyeol x Reader
Genre: Smut, fluff
Word Count: 3652
Warnings: Smut, sex on chairs, hot cinammon rolls
Sypnosis: Love doesn’t just lie in a person’s actions for Chanyeol.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Chanyeol’s idea to invade the streets at nine a.m in the fucking morning.
The cactus in your living room becomes too boring to stare at and the impatient tick-tick-ticking of the clock long ago passed the border between momentarily surly and irritable. Chanyeol emerges from the kitchen, topping a disheveled bedhead (“sex hair”), lips parted around the edge of on milk carton. His eyes smoothe the curves of your shoulders, map the loose, swelling mouth of the collar of his T-shirt—a silent, discarded ripple of enkindled desire. “Let’s go out.” The murmur is faintly above a whisper, but still prevails in being heard. You cock your head, slogging back a smirk at the way the corners of Chanyeol’s lips have suddenly been set aquiver. He rests a hand against the wall, splintered and pale. As he leans to the side, the collar of his shirt sags, revealing a poorly hidden wreath of scarlet blazes. You remember how you’d felt the blood in his veins thrumming beneath the swell of your tongue—pulsing, burning, rushing. “Where to?” Chanyeol’s eyes follow your descent to the pillow on the couch, whorls of dust springing free as your head sinks into clawed, moth-eaten flesh. “Benny’s. Gavin’s cafe.” Chanyeol’s elbow lurches as he lugs the milk carton forward, mouth closing over the plastic. Adam’s apple bobs as cold white escapes into a pulsing trachea. You nod, fingers edging the tattered wood of the coffee table. You remember how the cold splinters had dug into your back a few mornings before, when Chanyeol had come up with the bright fucking idea of taking you right there—right next to his morning coffee. “How about we leave in ten?” the fucking lewd maniac drawls, figure sweeping back into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about a shower or anything, you’ll be fine.” You don’t even bother acquiting a murmur of protest as your back elevates from the sofa. The black plastic coat of your phone warms your palm, thin fingers closing around the device, pale knobbly legs leaving the warm confines of the sofa cushions. Norleom Street is dusty and vacant, the usually kept lawns ridden with the soiled vestiges of long-deceased plants. Chanyeol’s fingers are warm and soft against the flesh of your palm. The sunlight manages to properly reflect the quiescent innocence within him—russet gaze marred by the fresh, pure zeal of swallowing the jovial chirrups of scarlet thrushes, vermillon mouth quirked with crisp mirth. A brief comber of vertigo strikes your brain, momentarily robbing your legs of stability. Chanyeol’s fingers come to swathe your wrist and you regain your balance, looking up at eyes full of amusement. “Be more careful, babe. Am I that good looking or is this because of last night?” A laugh parts his lips at the ruby wreaths that come to your cheeks. “Oh, shut up.” “You’re right,” Chanyeol’s fingers lick across your wrist to your palm. “I should be the one walking funny with all the bouncing you were doing on me last night. That shit actually kind of hurt.” “Oh, fuck off,” you rasp savagely out the corner of your mouth. “You liked it.” “Actually,” Chanyeol’s other hand cups the curve of your hip. “I loved it.” He inclines his head, the way the veins in his neck thrum against the air composing goosebumps on your arms, and slowly covers your mouth with his. It’s a sweet kiss, primarily tongue-free, and Chanyeol gently tugs you to meet his body. His fingers wound the cotton of your shirt, twirling, twisting and you slide further towards the wamth of his body, his other hand still tightly holding yours. He moves to draw back, but you snatch his lower lip between your teeth and cup the side of his neck, the harsh groan that leaves his throat burning against your fingertips. Then comes his tongue—sodden and humid—and then he’s tracing every crevice of your mouth and warming every dark, cold corner and it’s too much—it’s just fucking too much. He parts, staring down at you with sweet, trumulous eyes, thumb mapping the region dangerously close to the underside of your breast. “I love you.” His stare’s intensity shifts into a level of discomort and your eyes shyly lower to meet the ground. “Come on,” Chanyeol’s palm is tightly melted into yours again and feet begin dragging along coarse concrete. Guilt pangs your bones. Ever since you’d started dating Chanyeol seven months ago, the words still hadn’t left your lips. You loved Chanyeol. He knew you did. But you’d been too shy to omit the phrase officially yet. Chanyeol understood. He read your actions more than your words; and your actions screamed the proclamation he yearned to hear louder than your future words ever could to him. Benny’s is fairly empty when you enter mintues later. A slender male with chestnut-colored skin gestures Chanyeol forth and a sweet smile plays on his lips as he plucks out a chair for you to plop in and goes to talk to him. He and the worker converse for several minutes until finally Chanyeol returns with a small blue blasket blanketed with flimsy white paper. He sinks beside you, passing you the basket which acquits a warm, delicious scent. You snatch the paper, freeing the smell completely. Cinammon rolls. You twist to look at Chanyeol. “It took you ten minutes to get four of these?” Chanyeol’s lips curl into a scowl that’s supposed to feign indignation. “Hey, they had to cook them first!” “I’m just joking,” you mutter, grabbing a roll and splitting it apart. A tear of warm cinammon oozes along the bread and your stomach grunts with anticipation. The roll faces a rapid ascent into your awaiting mouth and a moan unconsciously flits from your throat. Chanyeol leans and rubs your back as you munch heartily. “There’s nothing more beautiful than watching the one you love enjoy life’s little pleasures.” Ignoring his affectionate gaze, another inch of roll warms your mouth and sets ease to your tongue. “Eating is not a little pleasure. Eating is a significant facet of life.” You thrust your index and middle finger towards the two rolls harbouring the left corner of the basket. “You can have those two.” Chanyeol’s eyes momentarily beam with gratitude. “Thanks.” And then his russet gaze is marred with pride as he snatches a roll and tosses it into his other hand. “I’m guessing sex is another?” You nearly choke. “What?” “You heard me.” He inches closer and his fingers kiss the curve of your jawline. “Sex is another significant facet of life.” “Maybe for you.” The words come out in a shrill whisper and you mentally chastise yourself for sounding so sweak, so vacillating. “Oh, really,” Chanyeol’s fingers flicks your lower lip and it takes every blade of restraint within not to swipe it with your tongue. He tilts and his scarlet mouth gently pays homage to yours. When he draws back, his eyes are stained with desire. “On a scale of 1-10, how good are those cinammon rolls?” You ravish another bite, pretending to mull things over. “An 11.” A smirk tugs Chanyeol’s lips and your left thigh tightly comes to hug the other. “I’ve got something that’s a 12.” You don’t even have to glance down to see if he’s hard. You can sense it in his voice. “There’s a storage room down the hall. Meet me there when you’re done eating.” He rises and with ferdent strides, he veers into a seperate corridor and out of sight. The heat cradled between your legs intensifies so much that you ask the worker behind the counter for a take-out bag for your food. He supplies it willingly, and with a brisk murmur of gratitude, you’re taking Chanyeol’s previous steps down the corridor, not bothering to see if any of the workers are peering with suspicion. Six seconds barely transpire on the course to the storage room and by the time your hand enfolds the doorknob, you swear your arousal is already clouding the air. The moment the door twists open, pale fingers seize the cloth of your shirt and haul you inside. Chanyeol’s mouth buries your own with a searing, wet kiss and his hands find your thighs, drawing you towards him. “You definitely ate too fast,” he pants around your lips. “I’m slightly worried.” “You’re an idiot,” you crush his lips with yours and he staggers, groaning slightly. When you pull away, his eyes are burning. “How could I finish eating knowing what I’m about to get?” “Who said you were getting anything?” Indignation blooms your cheeks and a rich, hearty laugh explodes from Chanyeol at the sight of your scowl. “I’m just joking, babe.” He carefully drops to his knees, fingers hooking around your sweatpants. “I could never leave you hanging like this.” He jerks the cloth down and you watch their descent to your knees. “Speaking of hanging.” You follow his gaze to her sodden panties. “These definitely aren’t.” His palm grazes the center, rocking against you. “I don’t think they’ll be hanging like they used to after a while—being this fucking wet.” A gasp shudders from your throat as Chanyeol’s teeth seize the edge of your panties, eyes boring into yours. He draws the cloth downwards, but not hard enough to move them, just enough to peer inside at your bare, glistening wetness. You bite back a whine as the cloth is released and his mouth begins raking up your arm, peppering kisses along your elbows and clad shoulders. His fingers enfold your waist as he dampens your neck with his mouth, drawing hieroglyphics along the flesh with his tongue. His other hand cups you gently, middle finger mapping the damp swell of your clit. You wrap your arms around him, the moan that had gathered in your throat seconds ago bursting free. “Am I making you feel good, baby?” He rubs a bit harder and you can feel your clit growing. “Y-yes. That feels so good.” He draws the damp skin of your neck into his mouth, forcibly sucking. “Damn, I need you.” You immediately shove your hand downward, brushing it along his cotton-clad skin. Your fingers immediately find his erection and you close your hand tightly around him, rocking your palm back and forth. He groans, hoarse and needy, and you stroke a bit faster, pressing light kisses against his pectorals. His veins drum furiously against your tongue as you guide it along the damp slope of his throat. “You want me to suck you off?” Chanyeol’s eyes nearly roll out of his skull with pleasure. “God…please…” You slowly drop to your knees, gazing up at him all the while. A blush quickly blooms in your cheeks seeing how he towers over you. For a moment, it briefly sends your heart pounding with fear, but when you glance up at him and see his warm face and the beautiful veins pulsing in his vermillion neck, it erases completely. You close your hand around him, pecking the tip. A shudder passes through his body. “Babe,” Chanyeol murmurs, eyes closed. You glance up at him. “Yeah?” “We’ve never done this before.” “I know, babe. I’ll try to make this extra good for you, then.” You flash a seductive wink. Chanyeol shudders again. “No, I mean…uhm…I’ve never done this before.” Excitement takes hold of you, overriding the surprise. “Are you saying this is your first blowjob?” “Y-yeah.” “Well, I guess I’ve got to make it good then.” And you wrap your lips around him. A loud, rich moan parts his lips and his head lulls back. The sight of the straining veins on his neck is nearly enough to make you come right there. He’s warm and stiff against your tongue and when you slash the underside of his base, his whole body shudders. “God, that’s amazing,” he rasps as you slide your mouth back and forth. He tugs his pants all the way down as you pay homage to the tip, staring up at him. “Jesus.” You draw back, a smirk playing on your lips. “I’ve been told the resemblance is damn near frightening, but my name’s (Y/N) if you forgot.” A chuckle rumbles from his throat and he passes a hand through his hair. “You are so fucking sexy.” You glide a hand beneath his shirt, palming the tight muscles of his abs. “So are you.” His breaths grow rougher and his knuckles turn unhealthily pallid. You sit still as he gently begins thrusting into your awaiting mouth on his own, watching you for assurance all the while. “Damn, your tongue feels so good.” You groan around him, reaching down to pet yourself. The moment Chanyeol’s eyes find your fingers, he draws back immediately. At first you’re confused as you’re sure he hasn’t come yet (you would’ve tasted it), but the moment you see him draw out a chair from the corner of the room and plop it down in the center you know what’s up. Jokingly, a frown curves your lips. “Channie, I thought we were gonna fuck, not play Musical Chairs?” You’re surprised when he squats and flattens himself to the ground on his back, readying himself with slow, confident strokes. “Just shut up and sit on my face.” It takes everything in you not to start giggling with pure mirth as you saunter over to him, poising yourself directly over his face. A moan leaves his lips as you sink to your knees and drop to his awaiting tongue. The moment you felt his lips pass over your clit, a gasp shakes your whole body and your fists pulse against the ground. Tongue manuevring across your sodden labia, his arms draw around the backs of your thighs, locking you in place. The way his tongue dances over you and draws your clit into his mouth has you shuddering. Every slightly dry region grows wet with need and you’re literally surprised a puddle of your arousal hasn’t formed around Chanyeol’s head. Fisting his shirt, you come with a strangled squeal as his lips fold around your clit one last time, tongue heatedly thrashing. With one last, slow lick that sends his tongue deep inside of you, he gently lifts you off of him. Panting, you don’t even have to wait for him to ask as you grab his erection, mounting it directly beneath you. A loud, throaty groan swells in your ears as warm, slender fingers catch tightly around your hips, guiding you as you smoothly descend him. He feels just as he always does. So damn good. You bob gently, feeling his hands caress the dip in your back and the curve of your asscheeks. You stretch your hands back, smoothing his abs and pelvis as you rise and fall, rise and fall, the pleasure increasing with each graceful descent. “Baby,” the growl is rasp and strangled. “Turn around. Look at me.” Wanting to prolong your pleasure, you ground your hips slowly against him, a long moan leaving your throat, before gently easing yourself off of him and revolving your position so you’re facing him. He smiles, an innocent, jovial smile and he cups your hips, poising himself against you. Holding you tight, he dives inside and you gasp at the way you wetly part around him. He moves, guiding himself in and out of you, before carefully grabbing your hips, smoothly furling to his knees and standing up. You’re puzzled, but only for a brief moment as he drops into the chair, the hands tightly cupping your ass hauling you back and forth, grounding your hips together. You enfold the back of his neck, staring down into his eyes. He catches your mouth, guiding you faster against him as his teeth sink into the edge of the cup of your bra. He draws it down completely and closes his lips around the bare flesh. The warmth of his tongue against your nipple and the fervent slapping of his erection is enough to send you over the edge completely. With a loud call of his name, you quake against him, holding him close. He groans into your shoulder, shuddering at how tight you squeeze him as he releases. Eyes closed, he tugs you closer to his body until it feels like you’ve melted together. The air is calm and silent as you catch your breath, occasionally mapping each other’s backs with wandering hands and gently squeezing asscheeks. “That was amazing,” you muse in his ear, still feeling lost in your high. “Yes, it was,” his arms slowly slither off of you and suddenly he’s leaning back in the chair, black tresses casting a messy shadow across his eyes, ropes of sweat tribbling in fucking torrents down his shirt. Fuck. He looks so beautiful. He opens his eyes and the moment his gaze finds you, a blinding smile breaks out on his face, the corner of his lips slightly quirking with shyness as he reaches a hand to cup your cheek. “God, you’re beautiful.” He inclines forward to kiss between your breasts. “So, so beautiful. Sometimes I think you deserve better.” You jerk with surprise. “Why?” His eyes tilt up to meet yours and you can see the pain marring his cheeks. He’s serious. He doesn’t think he’s good enough. “You need someone who can take care of you all the time. With all their being, with all their love. Look at me, I barely have enough money to support the both of us. And the only time I really feel like I can make you happy is when I’m inside of you, which is why I make love with you so goddamn much.” You narrow your eyebrows, unable to believe he’s being serious. “Chanyeol—” “I love you. And one day, I hope you can find someone who’ll come home to you with everything and anything you want. Someone who can cherish you completely. Someone you can…say ‘I love you too’.” Pain immediately strikes your heart. It was about this. It was about how you’d never told him you love him. “Ch-Chanyeol…” Realizing how he’s completely shifted the mood, his eyes wander everywhere but your face. “I-I’m sorry…I’m done now.” “No,” you cup his chin, raising his head to meet your gaze. “Chanyeol, listen to me. I’ve been through a lot in terms of romance and insecurity, but that’s nowhere near a fucking excuse for me to make you feel this way.” He blinks rapidly as his eyes become twinged with pain at your tone. “Baby…” “No, just listen. I’m not blaming you and I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. I’m disgusted with myself because the most perfect, beautiful boy I’ve ever met thinks he’s a piece of shit and he’s not. If anything, that’s me. Chanyeol, we’ve both been through a lot with relationships and we both need to be loved. And I’m here. I’m here to love you.” You grasp his hand in yours. “I do. So, so much, Chanyeol.” His eyes become glazed like he’s living in a dream. An actual, fucking dream. “I-I—” You press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “No. Let me say it this time.” Your finger gently glides down his mouth to cup his chin and his whole body seems to tremble. “I love you.” It’s as if something’s burst inside of him—something even he doesn’t understand and for a moment he looks like he’s confused on whether to cry or laugh. Instead, you allow him to do neither, slowly kissing his lips. He holds you, soft and close, and by the time you break apart, tears are shining in both of your eyes. “I-I always knew you loved me,” he whispered, “but hearing you say it…” “I’ll say it all day if you want me to. I’m sorry it’s so late. I was such an idiot.” “Hey,” he pecks your cheek, smiling sweetly. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a sweet, beautiful girl and I’m so, so happy to call you mine.” You nuzzle your nose with his, giggling at his cheesiness. “So,” he drawls, gently drawing out of you, “since there’s another chair over there"—you follow his gaze to the other end of the room where a black chair with silver legs is turned over by a wall of cardboard boxes—"how about we go with your previous idea and actually play Musical Chairs?” You laugh and he stands, walks a few steps and lowers you to your feet. “Naked Musical Chairs?” you muse. Chanyeol chuckles, playfully squeezing your breast. “You bet. And we’re only going to use sex songs.” “And the first one to lose has to give the other a lap dance?” Chanyeol laughs, heartily. “That’s the most brilliant idea I’ve heard in a while. You’re on, but I call picking the first song.” “Go ahead.” He saunters over to his pants lying on the ground and gropes through the pockets, digging free his phone.
“I’ll hit ‘Shuffle’ to make things more interesting.”
A few seconds of silence is swallowed by the melodic snapping of an R&B number. You quirk an eyebrow. “Neighbors Know My Name by Trey Songz?” “Damn it,” Chanyeol huffs, looking defeated. “This song always gets me going.” You giggle, curling a finger to command him forward. “Guess you’re going to owe me a lap dance, pretty boy.” Chanyeol playfully charges towards you, smashing his lips against yours. You chuckle into his mouth as he rocks his hips into you, moving to blow raspberries along your neck. “What the hell are you doing?” “Practicing. I wanna give you a good lap dance, baby.” You laugh, shaking your head as Chanyeol continues grinding his hips in the air, looking more like a loose spaghetti noodle caught in the wind than a sensual dancer. But you still love him. And isn’t that all that matters?
I felt like Dark needed some love. So here it is! I’m in a cuddly, cute, sorta sad? mood so forgive the less murderous side of Dark in this.
Fic Request: “Can you
do another fluffy and cute fix on Dark, it doesn’t matter what it’s about I
just love them so much that I need more”
Mark didn’t sound good over the phone. His voice was strained, tone deep and rough as if in pain. You knew that Dark was trying to get out, and this time you weren’t there to stop him. You arrived home, expecting the place to be burnt to the ground. Or some nightmarish trap waiting for you. But instead, you walked into a house completely intact and a slouched form on the couch. “Dark?” You asked. You didn’t get a response. Edging closer, you glimpsed the black-rimmed eyes staring down at the floor. They were distant, lost in thought. You crouched in front of the man, waiting for him to acknowledge you. On rare occasions when Dark had slipped out, he hadn’t been nice. He had fooled you into believing he was Mark once, but then tearing you apart emotionally by pricking at the secrets you had trusted in your friend. It had destroyed you. Other times Dark had mock you, endlessly poking at your conscious. He had been so confident, so smug, all you had wanted to do was swipe at him.
When Mark returned he had tried so hard to mend what Dark had torn apart, you knew it wasn’t just an act. Two people resided inside Mark. And you grew fearful of the creature lurking in his mind.
But here, he looked defeated. His posture was tense but bent, like a wilted flower. With the expression of a child, he looked up at you, finally meeting your gaze. “I’m not in the mood to play today,” He said. “Go along with your business.” Shock riddled through you, and despite yourself, you sat in front of him. “Are you…ok?” You asked. The question seemed to confuse him. As if he didn’t know himself. When he didn’t give an answer you moved to sit beside him. You gave him every chance to stop you or move away. But instead he turned his gaze back to his lap. You waited for him to do something. Leap at you. Yell at you. Snarl, growl, hiss, anything. But Dark remained silent. Like a statue. You nudged his shoulder with yours, “Do you wanna hear a story?” He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t refuse either. “When I was really little, I had tried to be a superhero.” You told him. “I had a cape and a mask, designed by yours truly. It was actually just a really colorful sheet that I cut up and a frog mask from a dollar store. And I thought that was all you needed to fly. Ii didn’t get the concept of “super-powers”, I thought it was the cape that gave you the abilities.” Dark remained quiet, you knew he was listening by the slight turn of his head. “And on that day, I had climbed this massive pine tree that was in the neighbors yard. I climbed until the branches were too small to hold me. And…I jumped.” You said with a grimace. “And for a second, I actually thought I was flying. I didn’t feel any fear, until I started to hit every damn branch on the way down.” You glimpsed Dark’s mouth twitch and you continued. “Two cracked ribs, many bruises and a broken pride later, my mother refused to let me wear anything cape-like till I was fifteen. I was devastated. Can you imagine me in a super-hero outfit? I’d look amazing!”
Dark sighed, the tension in his shoulders had released some and he lifted his head. “That was the most moronic thing I’ve ever heard you say,” He said. “Trust me, my younger self was the stupidest child you’d ever have the misfortune of knowing.” You chuckled. “I tried to jump from my second story window to catch a bird.” Dark shook his head, returning to the slouched position. The story helped, but only a little. Biting your lip, you squirmed under his arm, wriggling till your head was on his lap and you were staring up at his somber gaze. “What are you doing?” He asked, retracting slightly. “Not sure yet,” You admitted. “I’ll tell you when I figure it out.” His eyebrows furrowed, watching you as you smiled up at him. His arms relaxed, laying around your body like a cage. Never being so close before, you took the time to examine him. Dark of course had Mark’s features, but they were somehow different. Small changes, enough so that you’d glance over them and not notice. But now, with only a small space between you, you could tell. Dark had slightly sharper cheekbones, his jaw hitching upwards like blades. His eyes were darker, with longer lashes and a paler face. Where Mark was warm and friendly, Dark was cool and predatory. Without thinking, you lifted your hand and traced a finger along his jaw. Dark flinched, but didn’t move away from your touch. His eyes fluttered close as you followed the lines of his chin, lightly tickling the scruff coating his cheeks.
Your hand followed your fingers, cupping the side of Dark’s face and gently rubbing his temples. Dark leaned into your palm, nuzzling your fingers as his arms tightened around you. He held you softly, like a wounded animal that might try to scamper away if he moved too quickly. Your hand traveled upwards, very lightly stroking the black strands of his hair. A slight rumble echoed from Dark’s chest as you continued to outline his features with your fingers. It wasn’t menacing like you were use too, it was almost calming. Your thumb brushed over his eyes, a finger delicately sliding down his nose and outlining his lips. Dark peeled open his eyes to watch you. His gaze no longer sullen or cold, a faint warmth had melted the onyx gems. And the corner of his lips curled up lightly. His breathing was slow and deep. Arms cradling you. “I understand now why he is so fond of you,” Dark purred. You smiled up at him. “Everyone needs some love sometimes.” Dark hummed, his eyes shutting again as your fingers dusted over the lashes lining them. Suddenly, he started moving. Dark lifted you off the couch, placing you beside him and then stretching over the cushions himself. Laying his head on your lap and guiding your hand to his face. You grinned, chuckling softly as you continued your mapping. He hummed and closed his eyes. You allowed your hands to travel down the sides of his head to his neck. Following the veins that were located beneath the skin, then floating back up to his lips and across his forehead. Dark started to drift into sleep. He fought with the void, wanting to stay and feel your touch a little longer.
The sensation, the warmth, it calmed the swirling thoughts in his head. The itching in his fingers ceasing to nothing as he lay there. He turned his head towards you, allowing your fingers to explore the back of his neck. Ticking the soft hairs and very gently tangling up in the strands. Your scent surrounded him. Consuming his senses in your presence and only your existence. You were the only thing in his world at that moment. There was no reality, no Mark, no deranged thoughts. Just you and your hands. And as you swept your thumb over his cheek, caressing the bristles, Dark slipped back into the blackness and Mark opened his eyes. “Oh, hello.” He said. “I’m back.” “Good morning,” You said. “I think I’m beginning to grow on Dark.”
this is turning into a series or something. and i totally didn’t disappear for three months straight what are you talking about 👀
Pure tall bean. He’d love being the big spoon and just holding you, so that’s probably his go-to position when cuddling. However, he enjoys having your head on his wide chest, but only if you two are napping. At first, it was pretty awkward because he was so nervous his hands were literally shaking as he dragged you a little bit closer to his warm body. He found it kind of awkward though, and he still does, so you guys only cuddle when you’re going to sleep or watching a movie. Seokjin gets flustered when you’re this close, though, no matter how long you’ve been together, but he always smiles when he holds you. He gets hot pretty easily, so you never cuddle with a blanket over you two, unless you’re really cold. If he feels playful, he’d start tickling you. Also, would lean real close to your ear and while his lips are brushing the shell of it, he tells you the worst dad joke you’ve ever heard oh my god this nerd.
“Seokjin, come cuddle me.” “W-what? No-I mean, I-I, I don’t think I can right now.” “Stop being so flustered and hold me.” *while being dragged behind you on the couch, he’s happy that your back is pressed to his chest and you can’t see his blush*
My love. He’d totally be the small spoon, it doesn’t matter if you are a smurf, you’re going to hold him when you two cuddle, not the other way around. However, he enjoys when you two lay facing each other, because he loves gazing at your face. When you two face each other, he’ll grab your hands and rub your knuckles, whispering sweet stuff, sometimes kissing your fingers and palm. At first, he gets flustered too, but he gets over it soon. He usually whines for cuddles because we all know he needs attention and love. Whenever you hug him he lets out a quiet, happy sigh. Also, he’d totally come home late and if he doesn’t find you in bed he’s going to drag you in the bedroom and not let you go until morning. If you are already in bed though, he’d just flop down, wiggle his way under the covers and hold you tightly. That’s the only time he’s the big spoon.
“Love, come here.” “Yoongi, I’m busy.” “I can help you do that later, please, angel, let me hold you.” “Yoongi- what are you doing!?” “If you don’t come to me, I’ll take you forcefully. Not anyone gets me all affectionate but when I’m soft for you, you ignore me.” *pouts while pushing you gently on the couch*
!!! Cuddle king right here !!! He never ever misses the chance to cuddle you. Actual cuddlebug. Whenever you two aren’t in public he clings to you and good luck if you want to get him off of you. And by public I mean outdoors, because it really doesn’t matter if you two are around someone else, if he can cuddle and smooch you, he will. He doesn’t even care how you two cuddle, in what position, who is on top, who holds who, as long as you two are trapped in his bubble of love it doesn’t matter how you two cuddle. Cuddles also help him calm down, when he comes stressed or tired home, then you can bet your ass the first thing he does after taking off his shoes is collapse on you and hold you loosely while he sleepily mumbles a rant or directly falls asleep. Also, expect many tickle attacks and play fights, Hobi is a mischievous one.
“Babe, I’m tired, come to bed~” “Hobi, I’d love to but I’m kind of busy…” *whimper* “I can help you finish that after I feel better, please?” “… alright.”
Shy lil dork who really wants to hold you but something always goes wrong. He gets extremely flustered when you are around, and even if cuddling is great for him, he always does something that ruins everything. And someone usually gets an elbow in the face. However, he tends to hold you protectively while you two are sleeping, and if you don’t fall asleep while cuddling, you sure as hell wake up with this bear grasping at your side. He enjoys you hugging him reassuringly when he feels especially down, while he whispers everything that has been annoying him lately. He might fall asleep in the middle of the rant if you caress his hair. Joonie is big on tackle hugs, but only if you do it.
“Hun, can we… talk…?” “Uh, sure Joonie, what’s wrong?” “Nothing, it’s just that… everything became overwhelming in the past few days.” “Ah, Joonie, c’mere. You know I’ll always be here for you.” *sigh* “Thank you.”
Awh, smol mochi loves his cuddles and blushes every time you two cuddle. He doesn’t even bother to hide it anymore, he just smiles brightly while his cheeks turn pink and he ruffles his hair before clinging to you. Only likes cuddling when you two are facing each other, although he enjoys falling asleep with you on his chest. Sometimes he snuggles into your side, when he feels extra-mushy or especially sad, but most of the time he’s okay with just holding your hand or caressing your face while you guys lay down, face-to-face, talking about nothing in particular. Don’t misinterpret, he loves himself some cuddles, but he enjoys being able to look at you more than feeling your presence. Sometimes he does feel like being the little spoon is going to solve all of his problems, though.
*giggle* “Babe, you look like an angel. Did you come here from the heavens to protect me?” *cue dramatic look* “Hey! Park Jimin! Stop with the greasiness~” “Ah, why? You can’t deny the fact that you looove when I’m like that.” *more giggles*
Oml good luck trying to pry him away, he’s going to latch like a koala and never let you go ever. He finds the weirdest positions to cuddle, too. Tae is another mischievous one, and he’s oddly playful most of the time, so don’t expect any of your cuddles to be serious. Most likely builds a pillow fort every night so you guys can cuddle in it while you binge watch anime and munch on junk food he doesn’t have the permission to eat. Also, pillow fights. Many of those. He doesn’t have any specific cuddling position, he always comes up with different ways to hold you, although every time he manages to get absolutely no space between your bodies. Tae likes feeling you close, knowing you are there, so pulling you flush against him is very common. While sleeping he will wrap all of his limbs around you. Good luck sleeping peacefully with a blanket on you too, this kid is pretty warm already.
“Tae… I can’t breathe…” “Oh? I’m sorry. *giggle* Maybe we can cuddle the other way around… wait… yeah. That’s it. Better?” “Certainly better than the last one.” “…” “…” “… babe. I’m hot. Can’t we go back to the other one…”
Square tf up Jeon. Fite me. Sigh. This kid loves his cuddles and surprisingly enough he isn’t flustered at all. Okay, maybe just the first few sessions. But after that he’s the literal cuddling god which makes me angry. He’s very warm and broad, and he’s pretty chill most of the time too. When he isn’t hyper, he’d like it if you lay on his chest, because that makes him feel ‘manly’ or some other alpha shit. If he’s feeling playful, though, he’d totally initiate a play fight or a tickle attack or a pillow war. And they’re all hardcore because Jungkook is pretty intense when it comes to games and competitions. If he’s feeling down, however, he’d be a little spoon, because he’s a softie at heart.
“Hey… I… you think you can, like, hold me for a while? I feel really down and I need someone right now.” “Oh? Sure. Want to talk about it?” *snuggles back* “Not really. Your embrace makes me feel better already.”
Summary:You’re at your mom’s house with your kids when your husband sends you a very NSFW photo while he’s away.
Word Count: 1,116
Warnings: children (because apparently that needs a warning), a stubborn toddler, NSFW photo under the cut, embarrassment, sexting, implied smut
A/N: @wayward-girl sent me this photo and my brain just kicked into overdrive so… here ya go. This is also my (very late - I’m so, so sorry) submission for @frickfracklesackles‘s 1,000 Followers Celebration Challenge. My prompt was “I don’t know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you.” and is bolded below.
Jared was in Los Angeles, shooting some promo shoot for something he wouldn’t tell you about. It seemed sketchy, but you shrugged it off for the most part. Packing up the kids, you headed for your mom’s house, knowing she’d listen to your worrying about there being another woman while also helping you with Jake and Lauren.
Day two without Jared, and you were missing him. You woke up that morning and shot him a text, just saying, “Wish you were here,” with a kissing emoticon. After laying in bed for ten more minutes with no reply, you sighed and planted your feet on the floor. Trudging to the kitchen, you clutched the warm black mug between your hands, savoring every single sip of the holy liquid you were taking in.
A jinx, (also jynx,) in popular superstition and folklore, is a curse or the attribute of attracting bad luck. Historically, the idea of being “jinxed” or “jynxed” is particularly prominent in nautical contexts. Ships which suffered a series of misfortunes were considered by many sailors to be “jynxed”, and were then avoided. The jynx might be associated with a particular sailor or passenger, who the crew might then seek to remove. Note: All magic, especially vengeful magic, comes with a price.
WHAT YOU’LL NEED
–a 4x5 photograph of the negative person who has been rubbing you the wrong way –two cups of sea salt –a teaspoon of ash –a cauldron, firepit, fire safe bowl –match **NOTE: If you have a larger photo, it will require more salt.
1. Place the photo on a flat surface outdoors. Stare into the eyes of your oppressor and begin to take deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, breathe these words, “I am the water and you are the salt. I will dissolve your presence around me.”
2. Take your salt and begin to slowly pour it over the photo. Start with their mouth and cover the face. Say, “Though we must coexist together, I am the tide and you churn because of me.”
3. Sprinkle the ash over the salt and chant, “You are invisible to me. No longer can you effect me negatively.”
4. Pick up the picture and sift off the salt into your container. Light a match and burn the photograph. When the fire goes out and the contents have cooled, stir the remainder and sift into a bottle. Cork it and keep it in a dark area.
5. If after that, the person continues to effect you, take a pinch of your Salt Jinx and sprinkle it into your hands. Rub it over all of your palms and fingers, then wash your hands with warm soap and water. Chant as the Salt Jinx washes down the drain, “I wash my hands of you. You are, once again, invisible to me.”
If you’re unsure how to pet a cat (i.e., maybe you didn’t have cats around growing up), it can be helpful to bear in mind that petting is a grooming activity. Grooming each other is how cats bond. Of course, each cat will have individual preferences, but the fact that it’s a grooming thing gives you two basic places to start:
Scratch areas that the cat has difficulty reaching, like the chin and upper throat, behind the ears, or the the very top of the head. (Watch the body language here - you’ll know if you pick the wrong spot right away.)
Work your fingers deeply into areas of thick fur where tangles are likely to form, like around the shoulderblades or the ruff of the neck. (You may come away with a handful of loose fur; this means you’re doing it right.)
Also, if you’re unsure of how to approach, try extending your hand with the palm up and the fingers relaxed for the cat to sniff. It’s the cat equivalent of a handshake - cats sniff each other to see where they’ve been, and for humans, it’s the hands that carry our scent history, since we touch everything constantly.
The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding,
considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her;
will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will
his feelings get the best of him?
Word count: almost 4k
A/N: yo this blew up way more than i ever thought it would thank you so much for the support <3
Friday arrives much faster than anticipated. It’s a warm, brisk
morning, the sunlight raining down and painting Massachusetts with a summery essence. Fallen
leaves litter the yards of suburban homes and a canopy of those that remain is
spread across the road, only a few dots of light peering through.
“Textbook illustration of the apple-pie life.” Dean remarks
as he steers the car down a long strip of tarmac. “God…it’s making me sick
“Hold it down. You know I don’t want you throwing up on any
of my family members.” Y/N admonishes, letting her gaze avert from watching the
houses roll by and unto the elder Winchester; today, despite her attempts to
persuade him, he’s still settled on
wearing his usual hunter get-up—jeans and a plaid (obviously)—and his chin is
adorned with a feint patch of stubble. His eyes are set on the road, focused,
but she don’t miss the way his mouth quirks up at the remark.
Sam laughs as his eyes follow the array of little homes. “Noted.”
He says. “Anything else Dean needs to know should probably be voiced out right
now. You don’t want him making a fool out of himself around your family
“We talked about this already last night.” The elder
“No cussing around my mom, no crude jokes, saying the grace
is a must, and—“
“And be sure to talk politics with your dad. Yes, I got all
of that the first hundred times you told me.” Dean, rolling his eyes, makes a
turn for the left and Y/N heaves a sigh of relief. They pass a group fo
teenagers walking to school (way too late).
“Okay.” Y/N sighs, then raises her finger for emphasis. “Oh—also,
be sure to try and interact with all my brothers. They love that.”
“We’ve met your family before, Y/N.” Sam’s eyes never leave
his screen as he twiddles away at his phone.
They had; at the
birth of her hunting career with the boys, years back, Y/N had had to make trip
down to Massachusetts to handle a siren case that the Winchester’s provided
extra muscle for. Their time in town had been spent at her parents’ home.
“I know, but this is different.” She defends. “Dean is….”
She pauses, eyes skittering over to the elder Winchester for not so much as a
second before they return. “….my boyfriend. Or pretending to be my boyfriend.
There’s going to be a lot of pressure.”
“Your folks don’t seem like the type.”
“I just want to rub it in their faces that I’m.”—she raises
her hands in finger quotes—“not single anymore so that they’ll get off my case.”
The elder Winchester nods slowly, pulling a face. “Makes
“Shut up, Sam.”
The younger Winchester finally lifts his head from his
phone. His gaze bounces from Y/N to Dean. “What did Cas say, by the way?”
“About tagging along?” Dean casts a brief glance into the
backseat. “Not much. He said that he doesn’t see why we need him there anyway.
I told him Y/N’s sister was getting married and she gets to bring a couple of
friends, and seeing as we’re the only ones she has…” He trails off. Y/N then smacks
him on the shoulder, earning a satisfied smile. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I told
him that we want him to come with.”
“And he said no?”
Dean shrugs and continues to drive. The conversation ends
there for a moment, and once a silence spreads throughout the car, Dean tunes
the radio on and Y/N turns her head to the window.
Trees and houses and roads oh so familiar from her childhood
escapades through this tone roll by. Streets, cafes. Although vast and very
busy, she knows this place like the back of her hand; the local pool where
their family used to go on weekends, the private schools she bounced between.
Just down the road, wedged in the valley nearby are the woods where she
encountered her first monster at the tender age of sixteen.
So many memories. So much attachment. Y/N hates Massachusetts
more than anything; because it reminds her of how idyllic her life was before
she started hunting. It reminds her of people and of places and everything the
rest of her peers experienced that she didn’t get to; hunting whisked her away
from her life, stripped her of a regular teenage hood. But then again, she’s
She chose this life.
She chose Sam and Dean. She loves Sam and Dean. You can tell her that the sky
is red and that pigs fly and she’ll still believe all that first before she
believes that they boys are anything but her family.
Boston is a few kilometers off the highway, down a winding
road lined by thick trees and shrubbery, and with a few residential buildings
scattered around. Despite being a large neighborhood dotted with mansions and
the like, it’s a lot quieter. The rumble of the Impala’s engine is evident as
Dean, instructed by Y/N, steers his way through. The outline of the city is
painted against the canvas of the bright blue sky as they approach. The
traffic, taken the time of day, is minimal and so they manage to get to the
hotel in time.
In the parking, Dean kills the engine immediately, and then,
heaving a heavy sigh, turns to Y/N.
His face speaks no ounce of nervousness, which only makes
the young girl’s stomach coil into a tighter knot. She wants him to be nervous.
One of them has to, and Dean’s placidity leaves room for only her own anxiety.
“So…” She replies, trying to ease away her own nerves. Her
hands feel clammy and the back of her neck is hot. “Just don’t be nervous, yeah? My parents are
like predators—they can smell your anxiety a mile away.”
“Not supposed to.”
“I feel like I should be telling that you, Y/N.” Dean
remarks. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“No, I’m not.” She is. It’s a terrible lie and very
evidently so, but thankfully none of the boys say anything. Instead, however,
Dean reaches out and envelopes her hand in his. Y/N then stills, and feels the
color drain from her face.
The contact is warm,
assuring. Her hands slides perfectly into his and their fingers intertwine,
palms pressed flat.
“We’re gonna kick ass.” Dean says confidently. Y/N doesn’t
hear him—she’s looking at him, staring him dead in the eye, but the words enter
one ear and fly out the other because her hand is in his and it’s nice.
They’ve never held hands before, not like this. Dean guiding
her through a dark path on a hunt, Y/N pulling him with her as she runs from a
vampire. Their hands have definitely touched before, and their skin has definitely
grazed before, but this is so alien to Y/N, because it feels nice and like
everything that it’s not supposed to.
Dean stares into the young girl’s gaze as he tugs on her
hand, offering a brief smile. “Come on.” He goes to open the door. “We’re gonna
Once his hand leaves hers, it’s like her trance has been
diminished, like spell once cast over her has been broken. She floats back to
reality. Sam is hauling their bags out from the trunk, she realizes, and Dean
is trying to fit as many weapons into his luggage (just in case) as he can. She
quickly gets out. The hotel, adorned with a very tropical theme, is down a
strip of cobbled path with a few plants at the sides. Y/N follows the
Winchesters, trying to keep the pace, when she hears Dean call to her.
She turns. “Huh?”
“Give me your bag.” He says, his hand open as they walk. Y/N
stares at him for a moment, eyes glazed over. She’s still a bit dazed. Looking
at Dean now feels alien and almost unreal, like she’s looking in one of those
funny funhouse mirrors. Maybe it’s just the stress of this wedding, or the
heat, she thinks, trying to brush it off
“I got it.”But before she can speak, Sam plucks the rucksack
from her and hoists it up on his back. Dean scoffs.
“Wow, Sam.”He rolls his eyes as they approach the hotel. Towering
above them, it’s a giant of a building, quaint balconies perched up on room, it’s
years and history written out in the way vines climb in slender tendrils along
the stone walls. Inside, the ceiling climbs so high one might think it reaches the
“Maybe Y/N should have asked you to play her boyfriend
instead.” Dean remarks as they stroll in. The place is packed; an eclectic
cloud of people roams the room, all with their luggage in hand.
Sam smirks. “Maybe she should have.”
“The reception’s over there.”
Y/N points to the desk ahead. Shuffling through the crowd,
the trio makes their way over to the counter, the receptionist smiling at them.
She’s young, probably older than them, but still her skin is taut and plump and
her brown eyes gleam as she speaks. She types something into the computer and
in a moment heir rooms are assigned, all courtesy of her family. Sam has agreed
to carry everything upstairs and meet them at the lounge, so Y/N and Dean
decide the time alone can be used to go over their ground rules again.
They wander over to the bar, a noticeable distance between
them. The room is ambient, lit up by little warm lights suspended from the
high-set ceiling despite it being day. Slow jazz music floats through the
crowded room. As soon as they settle down, swarming like locusts in a field,
the waiters come over, all trying to fix a menu in their faces until Dean
ushers them away and says that they’re not hungry. Y/N is a little bit
disappointed—she hasn’t eaten all morning—but says nothing, instead focusing on
the man before her.
“Can I cuss around your sister?” Dean asks as he leans back
in his seat.
Y/N nods vigorously, her expression saying that the answer
is quite obvious. “S/P/N’s got a mouth like a sailor. A little profanity won’t
hurt. Not around my parents though.”
“Not around your mum…?”
“Not around either.” She says. “They hate it, think it makes
you look delinquent.”
Dean nods thoughtfully, then goes on asking various
questions. Time seems to drift by unnoticed, the conversation bouncing from one
end to another like a ball in a tennis court.
“Can I drink?”
Y/N wrinkles her brow in uncertainty. “You don’t smoke.” She
says; it’s a firm statement, a proclamation rather than a question
“But if I had to?“
“Fine.” The young girl lets out an exaggerated sigh. Dean chuckles. The sound is precise and brief
but still manages to bring a shy smile to her face. Moments later, the table has quieted for some
reason, so Y/N lifts her gaze to Dean, regarding him curiously. She knows that
look—it’s hard not to when she’s seen it so many times, with Sam or Cas, or
even first hand. Gaze set on the floor, his lip is tucked between his teeth and
he runs his tongue over his lips, his contemplation evident until he finally
“So,” The elder finally allows their eyes to meet. “What
about us? You know…our boundaries, instructions. Do’s and don’ts. What do we
say if we get the stereotypical how did you meet quiz?”
matter.” She waves a dismissive hand and then leans back in her seat. The fiber
of the backrest presses into her back, crackling quietly. “My parents already
know we met through hunting, but we could always just use some other cover with
my other relatives.”
“So we lie?”
She quirks a teasing brow and smiles. “You have no problem
lying that you’re an FBI agent basically every day. Lying that you met me on
vacation or something can’t really be that hard…?”
“Where was our vacation to?”
“So we’re settling on the vacation-thing?”
Dean shrugs. “Any other options? I’m sorta just following
here. It’s your plan.”
“Don’t say it like that. We’re a team, Dean.”
“Right, almost forgot that.” The elder Winchester chuckles
and shakes his head. “Okay. What if we met on unconventional grounds? Maybe I
nearly ran your dog over and you got pissed, so you tried flagging down my car
and threatened to press charges. You didn’t, of course. My good looks and wit
managed to persuade you into changing your mind and just having dinner with me
Y/N rolls her eyes at the green-eyed hunter, her mouth
quirked upwards. “Is that your definition of romance? It sounds like bad
Dean pouts, then folds his arms and leans back in the chair.
“Whatever.” He grumbles. “You think something up then.”
“Vacation it is.”
A wide grin stretches across Y/N’s face and she revels in
the victory, when Sam walks up. He comes up from behind her, the only
indication of his arrival being the way Dean’s eyes dart to the space past her
“You guys aren’t eating?” He asks, pulling out a seat from the table nearby.
He sits and turns to Dean.
“Do you want to?” The elder Winchester looks to Y/N—he’s
Opening her mouth to speak, she’s about to decline (because
they don’t have time to sit and eat anyway), but the grumbling in her stomach
reminds her of her hunger. The sound is embarrassingly loud. Her mouth instantly
shuts, and Dean’s eyes widen.
“Shut up.” Y/N chastises as her cheeks are swarmed with
pink. The elder Winchester doesn’t listen. He begins to howl with laughter,
clasping his stomach, and Sam snickers along with him.
“Whatever.” She turns her head, scowling, as his laughter
begins to melt away. Leaning back in his seat, little bubbles of laughter
escape him, and he lifts his hand.
“Waiter.”He calls. A
few feet away, with long curly blond hair, one of the servers from earlier
turns. Dean’s ruddy face smiles at him as he calls him over. He scuttles over,
a polite smile on his face.
“What do you want, Y/N?” Dean’s voice is ribbing and smug.
“Shut up.” The young girl rolls her eyes and turns her
attention to the waiter. He’s young and his face is dotted with little pink
spots of acne. She orders a chicken salad, just like Sam, and Dean goes for
stake. Moments later, the food arrives, hot and scented with herbs and spices.
They eat and then, stuffed and satisfied, head up to their
rooms to get cleaned up. Y/N just got a call from her parents asking where they
are, that they’ve been waiting on them for a while now and everyone is already arriving
when they finally get to their room, Sam waiting out in the hallway, she and the elder Winchester hurry to get ready. Y/N curls her hair and throws on some mascara while Dean runs a quick shower.
“Okay, this is it.” She says, standing by the bed; the light from outside floods the area, bringing out the very delicate
and chic design: the walls, painted mocha brown, are adorned with little
trinkets and the bedspread is a light toffee color. There’s a potted palm in one of the corners, candles
practically everywhere, and the wooden floor is warm beneath her bare feet.
“Operation Wedding Crasher is in pursuit.” Y/N says to Dean
Standing in the bathroom, he’s just gotten out of the shower and is trying to
fix his hair, running his fingers through it and muttering profanities beneath
his breath. She’d insisted that he changed—taken how many outfits he’s recycled,
she’s pretty sure he wore that very one years ago when he first met her
“Roger that.” He takes one last look in the mirror, checking his stubble
and hair, then walks over to the bed where his shirt sits.
Y/N tries not to stare at his bare-chested form as he
quickly slips on the shirt, the front undone and exposing his caramel-colored
skin. Instead, she clears her throat and turns away. This is the only way; if
she doesn’t, she’s going to end up drooling a puddle on the floor or letting
her gaze linger for too long, and that’s the last thing she needs right now. As
if things weren’t awkward enough back in the car.
She then looks down at her hand, once encased in Dean’s, the
marks from her battles with monster’s still there. There’s a little crescent shaped
scar sticking out in her palm that speaks of a hunt years ago, a hunt with a
rugaroo that ended in tears and blood and Y/N clasping onto Dean’s shirt for
dear life. It’s hard to forget. She can recall getting it, can remember the
pain of having to kill that young girl because of the abomination she had come,
can still taste the blood on her tongue and feel the pain in her hand.
This life has left
her with various moments like that. It’s a packaged deal when you’re a hunter,
a sort of terms-and-conditions scenario, to have at least one hunt that has
managed to strip you of normality. Something that took you over the line that
separates you from the regular world—that was it for Y/N. She was it. That girl
couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Having her blood on her hands had
definitely been the initiation into the hunter’s game for Y/N.
She has been through so much in her time as a hunter and it
shows; on her face and on her body. On her hands. She runs a finger along the
tissue, watching it intently. Dean is speaking in the background, saying
something to her that she can’t decipher because she forgets to for a moment,
until the memory nudges at her conscience once more. The rugaroo hunt. Her
It had been Dean to help her that night. It had been him and
his nobility to carry her out of that house before she could bleed out; it had
been him and his care, his selflessness, that got her to the car parked miles away
from the woods they were in; it had been Dean to stop the bleeding and the
tears that seemed to rain from her eyes after she killed that young girl and it
had been his hands to cloth the wound in her own.
It had been and it will always be Dean, because Dean is her
“Y/N?” He says, pulling her from her reverie.
The young girl immediately looks up and whips around, facing
the elder Winchester who is already dressed and ready to go. Y/N’s eyes widen;
she doesn’t say it, but the outfit change was definitely a good idea.
Her eyes rake up and down the green-eyed hunter’s structure,
taking in the sight of his crisp burgundy button up and dress pants—he looks
stunning. He always looks stunning. It’s not weird for Y/N to say because it’s
Dean and everyone notices his attractiveness upon first encounter, but this is
a whole different case. It’s still him, of course. His eyes are still vibrant
green, breaching into a hazel-gold, and his hair is still chestnut brown and
his smile and his heart and everything Dean Winchester is still evidently
there, but it’s just…different, like looking at the same thing but from a
“Uhm…” He draws out after a while.
Y/N looks back up to
his eyes; her face then flushes and she swallows. “Sorry, uh” She stumbles,
clasping her hands together and trying to regain her composure”—you were
Dean is smirking. “I look that good, huh?”
“Oh, shut up.”
He chuckles. The first few buttons of his shirt are popped
and you can see a patch of caramel-tinted skin peering out at you, a feint scar
on his collarbone adding some extra touch. “I was saying that we should get
going. Sam’s already waiting up for us.”
“Right. Uhm, so we’ve gone over everything, yeah? You get
“Yes. Act like we’re dating.”
“Act like we’re in love.” Y/N corrects as she grabs her
satchel from the bed and goes to Dean at the door. She stands, body facing him.
“There’s a big difference. My parents are going to be all over my case for
these two weeks if they see that you and I don’t have any chemistry.”
“We already do, though.” He defends.
“Whatever. Then let’s amp it up—mega chemistry.”
“Mega chemistry, huh?”
“Yeah.” She smiles; it’s goofy and a bit shy because, God,
did she really just say that?
But Dean doesn’t seem to mind, because his lips turn up to
and he shakes his head. “Dork.”
Y/N goes to open the door, her hand hovering right above the
knob when Dean cuts in.
“Can I hold your hand?” He asks.
The young girl then stills and her hand floats away from the
door. She stares at him; his voice is calm and collected, like he’s asking her
what’s the time or how she is.
“You…want to hold my hand?” Y/N’s uncertainty is evident.
Shrugging, he pulls a face, an expression that says no duh, why not.“Yeah.” He answers. “We are trying to portray that
mega-chemistry, aren’t we?”
She feels him reach out, like it’s happening in slow motion,
like she can’t do anything, and take her hand in his. Their skin grazes and
fingers lace. His hand is far bigger than hers, rougher, too, but it’s a
satisfying contrast as the butterflies in her chest are roused.
Dean’s smile is ribbing and smug and Y/N’s heart is in her
as she feels her palms clam up. He opens the door and they step out into the
hallway, the heat immediately smacking onto them. Sam is leaning against the
wall, typing away at his phones, and he looks up when he notices their
A smile twists at his lips. “There’s the happy couple.”
“Shut it.” Dean says, smirking as they begin to saunter down
the strip of corridor. Y/N is trying to
mollify her feelings, rinsing them away, trying to rationalize why they’re even
here in the first place. They shouldn’t be. She shouldn’t be getting so worked
up over something like this, but it’s hard to. The past few days, with this
wedding situation overhead, have been nerve-wracking—could that be it? she
wonders. Could those anxieties be the cause of her frazzled emotions?
But she doesn’t have time to ruminate. The elevator takes
them to the ground floor and they shuffle out once the doors open, Sam and Dean
talking about how weirdly excited they are about meeting Y/N’s family as they
walk through the ballroom and then out into the garden. . Picnic benches are
set up across the expanse of greenery and evergreen trees sprout from the
ground all around. There are cobbled paths through and fairy lights (currently
off) strung up between branches willows. She remembers this place from when her
dad would bring her along on workshops and send her out here to play.
Y/N notices her mother first.
Her hair is an ashy
blond, curled into a bob, and she’s wearing a white caftan and jeans. She’s
smiling, laughing at the table cluttered with familiar faces. Only about two or
three people are strangers to her.
Then, as if instinctively, she clutches Dean’s hand tighter
in hers. He then casts a brief glance at her, one of caution, worry, almost,
and Y/N meets his gaze.
“I’m nervous.” She admits, visibly gulping.
His eyes regard her curiously. “Why?”
If only she knew. But she doesn’t, so Y/N only shrugs and
looks back ahead. When they’re a few feet away from the table, that’s when
S/P/N notices them because, gleaming like the sun in a salmon colored dress,
she rises from her seat and welcomes them with a smile.