A/N: This is one of my favorite fics, because it’s been so easy for me to write. Enjoy it, guys!
“This looks nice,” said Steve, grabbing a hideous, vomit-green dress from the rack.
You grimaced. “You hate me.”
He belted out a laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s a vomit-green, makes me wanna throw up.”
Steve shrugged and put it back before continuing to help you shuffle through the available dresses. Finally, you settled on three options, two that you had chosen and one that Steve had pointed out to you and you had agreed with his pick.
Request: Do one where Spencer is in love with the Reader
My first one! Thanks for the request!
It was late. You sat there typing away on your laptop. This
report felt like it was sucking the life out of you. You had been at it for
hours and the rest of the team had already packed up and left.
“Go home and get some rest Y/N,” Hotch tiredly staggered
down the stairs.
You snickered as he yawned and he stared at you with a stern
“I mean it,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m
almost done,” you waved him off and spun back around to your desk. Unfortunately,
you had said the exact same thing to Morgan when he left.
Thirty minutes had passed by since Hotch left and the only
thing lighting up the office was your stunningly bright screen. Typing up the last sentence, you remembered
this case as it passed through your mind. The unsub was a woman hairdresser who
would choose a customer, stalk them, and eventually slit their throats. She actually
attempted to run when the SWAT Team surrounded her, crazy bitch.
Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jumped out
of your seat, the thoughts of the case washed from your mind instantly. You
whirled around scanning the office for the culprit until your eyes landed on
Spencer Reid. He was standing there with his messenger bag
wrapped around him, his shaggy hair was draping over his head and even though
it was dark, the computer screen allowed you to see his droopy eyes.
“Oh…sorry Y/N,” he stammered. “I didn’t know anyone else was
here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish.
You shrugged, “Surprise!”
Spencer gave a small smile, peeking at you through his
bangs. He eyes darted down to the floor and he shuffled his feet.
“You okay?” you questioned. You felt nervous, Spencer was
possibly the sweetest guy in the world and he meant everything to you. The
first time you laid eyes on him, you practically fell head over heels for him.
You hung on his every word, every fact, and every smile. And now here he was;
tired and alone.
He nodded and slowly approached you, hands still buried in
his pockets. “I heard you’re still working on that report,” he jerked his head
towards your laptop.
You plopped back down in your chair, feeling useless. Throwing
back your head, you groaned and covered your face.
“I only just finished and I’m exhausted, Spence.” You were
the only one on the team who called Spencer by his first name. He never seemed
to mind and always looked puzzled when you called him Reid.
He didn’t say anything; he just walked closer and leaned
against your desk, facing you.
You looked up into his doughy, brown eyes for what seemed
like an eternity before he reached down and brushed your cheek with his hand.
You felt your heart begin to race.
He bit his lip. “Did you know it takes less than four
minutes to decide whether or not you have feelings for someone,” He then
chuckled. “It only took me about two.”
“Wha-what are you-“ you struggled to stammer out the words
before he slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.
It felt like your heart had just exploded. Your eyes
fluttered shut as you passionately kissed him back.
He pulled away, “I’m sorry Y/N, I-I just…um,” He stuttered.
With a giggle, you pounced out of your chair and threw your arms around his
neck and pulled him into an intense kiss. His tongue collided with yours as his
hand rested below your ear and his thumb caressed your cheek. His lips were
soft and he was so gentle and cute. His hands got tangled in your hair and then
they slowly moved down your body until he was rolling his hips into yours. You
let out a soft moan, but Spencer silenced you by once again crashing his lips
into yours. There was no space between you two and you were sure he could hear
your heartbeat. You ran your fingers down his spine and inhaled sharply. He
began nuzzling your neck with delicate kisses, causing you to giggle due to you
He stopped and looked up at you before grinning, “Stop it.”
You cocked your head in confusion, “What?”
“You’re so adorable,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around
your waist. He then, surprisingly, lifted you up onto your desk and placed
himself in-between your legs.
You squealed with a smile, never feeling so happy.
“Y/N, I love you,” he spoke so clearly as if he had
practiced saying it a hundred times. Before letting you respond, he then kissed
you again, but this time much softer and sweeter. You never wanted to pull
Summary: After regaining some of your memories, you and Jungkook finally face the truth.
Word count: 1.9k words
When Jieun came home, she found you sitting on the floor. Your eyes were red, but your tears had dried long ago. Jieun regarded your blank expression with concern, immediately dropping to the ground to check on you.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jieun asked frantically, looking at your body for injuries. “Did you hurt your leg again? Why are you crying?”
You sighed and closed your eyes, feeling more tired than upset. Jieun’s flittering hands stilled, as if she sensed that something was off.
“I remember now, Jieun,” you said. “I remember what happen that night, and what happened after. I know that you and Jungkook were a thing, and that he rejected me right away.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Jieun whispered, her own eyes watering. “I didn’t want to upset you or confuse you. It hurt you so much the first time, I didn’t want to see you go through it again.”
“I just don’t understand,” you replied, your voice strained with frustration. “Did you like him? Do you still like him? Is that why you tried to hide your relationship with him from me?”
“What? No! No, of course not,” Jieun exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. “I mean, I did have a bit of a crush on him, but our relationship was just physical. It ended as soon as you two figured out that you’re…you know, soulmates.”
“But I’m still confused,” you said, trying to hold off another wave of tears. “Jungkook said he wanted nothing to do me. But now he’s so sweet. He’s like two different people, and I don’t know which one is the real him.”
“Just talk to him,” Jieun smiled, rubbing your back gently. “He’s not as bad as you remember. I’m sure the person Jungkook is with you now is the person he wishes he was when you first met.”
“Still, why was he so cruel in the beginning?” you asked helplessly. “I don’t know if I can forgive that.”
“Only Jungkook can answer that,” Jieun replied softly. “Promise me you’ll talk to him, okay?”
You nodded, realizing that Jieun knew much more than she let on. She helped you to your feet and led you back to the couch. You decided you wouldn’t press her for more information, because in the end, you would need to talk to Jungkook eventually.
Even though you had decided to talk to Jungkook, you hadn’t been able to muster enough courage to confront him. He had no idea that you had regained your memories, so he was contacting you like usual. But when you picked up your phone to reply, the events of your first encounter flashed before your eyes. Every time that happened, you put your phone down and tried to ignore your heavy heart.
So, to put it simply, you had been ignoring Jungkook for the past week.
You had several unread messages in your inbox from Jungkook. Surely Jungkook was so popular, he wasn’t used to be ignored. The texts started coming less frequently, and you wondered if they would eventually stop all together. You figured–albeit guiltily–that if Jungkook really wanted company, he could find another girl.
One Thursday afternoon, you were reading through some notes sent to you by a classmate when you heard Jungkook’s thoughts whispering in the back of your head. You jumped, growing unaccustomed to your soulmate’s presence after such a long period of silence.
“Why isn’t she talking to me?” Jungkook thought, and although it was quiet in your mind, you could hear the worry in your voice. Your heart panged, and you felt bad for assuming the worst of Jungkook. Clearly, he was still thinking of you. “Did I do something wrong again?”
No, not again. The first mistake was hurtful enough. But of course, Jungkook had no idea that you remembered what he had done. You wanted to scream at him–make him hurt as much as he had hurt you. But you also just wanted to see him again, because you had grown to love the caring side of Jungkook that he had shown you.
“Maybe her condition got worse,” came Jungkook’s next thought, which sounded even more alarmed than the last. “I should stop by. Yeah–I’ll go after class.”
You jumped to your feet, wavering as you tried to catch your balance. Reaching out for your crutches, you hobbled out of your room and into the living room, where Jieun was playing guitar.
“Jieun!” you screeched, making her jump.
“Oh my god!” Jieun squealed, placing a hand over her heart dramatically. “Why are you screaming at me?”
“Jungkook’s coming here after his class is over,” you hurried to explain, your words overlapping in your haste. Still, Jieun understood what you were trying to say.
“Oh, so do you need me to leave?” Jieun asked, setting aside her guitar. “I can disappear for an hour or two.”
“No, no! Definitely do not leave,” you squeaked desperately. “I’m not ready to see him! I need you to cover for me. Tell him that I’m not home and that I forgot my phone here.”
“What? Y/N, are you avoiding him?” Jieun demanded, her face growing dark. “You promised me that you would talk to him! Ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.”
“I know, I know!” you replied. “And I will talk to him, but I’m just not ready yet. I need time to process everything so that I can face him properly. I don’t want to get upset and ruin things forever.”
Jieun’s face softened at your obvious fear, and she sighed. “I understand why you’re scared, but you should trust Jungkook a little bit too,” she argued. “He’s shown you that he’s a good guy, right? I get why you’re so hesitant, believe me. But I’m also seeing this from Jungkook’s perspective, too.”
“You’re my friend, be on my side!” you whined. Jieun rolled her eyes at you.
“Okay, don’t do that. I’m doing what’s best for you,” Jieun said. “Even though you don’t want to talk to him now, in the long run, you’ll be thanking me for making you two work out your problems.”
“I’ll thank you even more if you cover for me this one time,” you said, on the borderline of begging. “I swear I’ll talk to him after, Jieun! I just need a little more time. I’m really not ready to see Jungkook.”
“Fine,” Jieun sighed, falling back onto the couch in frustration. “I’ll cover for you this one time. You can go hide in your room or whatever.”
“Thank you so much, Jieun!” you cried. “I love you so much! You’re the best.”
“I know,” Jieun laughed. “And I’m assuming you ignored all of Jungkook’s attempts to contact you up until now?”
You looked away guiltily.
When Jungkook knocked on the door, you were hiding in your room. Your bedroom door was left slightly ajar, so if you peeked through, you could see the foyer. Jieun approached it, glaring at you as she did. You sent her a thankful smile.
Jieun opened the door, but you couldn’t see Jungkook.
“Oh, Jieun,” Jungkook said. You missed the sound of his sweet voice–you could admit that. “Is Y/N around? I haven’t heard from her since I saw her last week.”
“No, she’s not around,” Jieun replied easily. “Y/N had to spend the week with her grandparents, because they got really worried when they heard about the accident. And she was dumb enough to leave her phone at home.”
“Oh,” Jungkook said, sounding surprised. It sounded like a valid excuse, and you were a little shocked that Jieun was so good at lying. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell me earlier.”
“It’s because she didn’t know that she would be leaving until her grandparents showed up,” Jieun answered. She continued a bit sheepishly, “Actually, I was supposed to tell you that she would be out of town. I guess I forgot.”
“Yeah, guess you did,” Jungkook replied dryly. Jieun just shrugged and sent him a carefree smile. “When will she be back?”
“Sometime next week,” Jieun said. You gulped, realizing that she was giving you a deadline.
“Alright,” Jungkook said slowly. He sounded like he was getting ready to leave. “Thanks, I guess.”
Jieun began to close the door slowly. You exhaled in relief, feeling your body deflate. I can’t believe that worked, you thought. Jieun should have been an actress.
“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice suddenly thundered. Jieun jumped, backing away from the door. Jungkook burst through the foyer. “Why are you lying to me?”
“W-what are you talking about?” Jieun stammered.
“Y/N, where are you?” Jungkook called out, ignoring Jieun completely. “I know you’re here. I can hear you thinking right now.”
“Yeah, oh shit is right,” Jungkook snorted. He scanned the apartment, finally settling on your bedroom door. He saw your face peeking through, and he smiled slightly and began to approach you.
Accepting your fate, you pulled yourself to your feet and opened the door, clutching the doorframe for support.
“Why are you avoiding me?” Jungkook asked once he stood in front of you, the hurt clear in his downtrodden expression. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Yeah, you did,” you replied tiredly.
“What was it?” Jungkook questioned, confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, if I did. I thought you had a good time with me last week.”
“I did,” you smiled. “You’ve been really great since the hospital. You helped me a lot, and you’re fun to be around.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Jungkook asked, cocking his head adorably in confusion.
“It’s what happened before then,” you said simply.
Jungkook paled, his mouth opening slightly. His eyes lowered, and you could see his jaw clenching. He stood there quietly for a few moments, but eventually, he tentatively lifted his gaze to meet yours.
“You remember everything,” Jungkook said quietly. It wasn’t a question. He was biting his lip nervously, and you wondered why he was the nervous one when it was you who had been deceived all along.
“Not everything, but I remember enough,” you responded. You broke your eye contact with Jungkook, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t understand you at all, Jungkook. Why are being so nice now?”
“It’s…it’s a really long story,” Jungkook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t justify what I did, but if it means anything to you, I regret everything that happened that night. I didn’t mean a word I said.”
“Then why did you say what you did?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story,” Jungkook replied. “I can explain it to you if you’re willing to listen. I’ll tell you everything, I promise. And if you don’t want to see me after this, I won’t bother you ever again.”
“How do I know that what you’re saying is the truth?” you asked, looking at Jungkook for any signs of deceit.
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
You almost laughed–how could you trust him so easily again? But you remembered the boy who had slept by your bedside in the hospital, and the boy who acted like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The boy who had promised to sing to you.
“Fine, I’ll listen,” you breathed.
- Girl in Luv
Ok…this took to long. I kind of lost inspiration for this series, but it’s back now! You can expect more regular updates. The story’s drawing to a close…so what do think is going to happen? Also heads up: no posts tomorrow night. We’re going to prom!!! Thanks for reading guys! Ya girl’s gonna get turnt!
A/N: some slight nsfw, but nothing too wild. I hope you guys like it:)
His skin was warm against your finger as you traced the edge of his mouth.
Ever so gently, you leaned in to kiss him.
Tom grumbled, shaking his head a bit. “Go to bed,” he said, opening one eye to peek at you.
A smile spread across your face as you sat up, staring down at him before reaching over to grab your phone. “Can I take a picture of you? There’s something angelic about your morning face.”
“Does my hair look okay?” he asked.
“Not really,” you admitted, and Tom made a face before closing his eyes again.
“I’d much rather you fall back to sleep with me,” his hand reached out for you, but you swatted it away and opened the camera on your phone.
“I will, let me just take a quick photo.”
You took ten from the position you were sitting in now, and then another ten after laying back down beside him.
“Are you done yet?” he groaned, opening his eyes, and right at that moment, you snapped one last picture.
He was staring directly into the camera…directly at you. Those dark eyes of his were hazy with sleep; his garnet-colored lips delicate with life.
“Beautiful,” you whispered, staring at the photo of his face. Tom leaned forward and took a glance at the picture, then he turned away, digging his face into the pillows. “Don’t be like that,” you told him, setting your phone and prying the pillows away from his face. With nothing to hide him, you were able to look at him as he was: bright with life and beauty. Oh how you wished everyone in the world could experience him as you did.
Tom’s hand came up to your cheek, sliding down until it was behind your neck. Without much force, he willed you down toward him. As your lips met with his, you pressed your right hand against his chest, feeling the hard muscle of his body as you kissed him. He tasted sweet and hot, his tongue a cool contrast as it slid against yours.
Characters: Reader (Erin, but I don’t think I mentioned her name actually), Chris Evans
Pairing: Chris x Reader
Warnings: Fear of getting older, nudity, implied smut (well maybe a bit more than implied but it is pretty tame) otherwise just fluff.
Word Count: 1200ish
A/N: This is for Erin aka @blacktithe7. It’s her birthday today and this is me (and Chris) wishing her a very happy one. I love you Erin and I hope you had a great day today!
Thanks to @percywinchester27 for betaing this one for me (and Ana says: I love you too Erin).
Also sorry for the crappy title - hopefully the one shot is better than then that one.
Chris had wanted the two of you to go somewhere special today. He had suggested one restaurant after another. He had suggested weekend getaways and vacations but truth be told, you hadn’t been in the mood to do much this year. You just wanted this day to pass and get on with your life. A birthday was just a day right? At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself as you laid in bed alone that morning.
You weren’t sure where Chris was, but him not being here had you kinda worried that he had not listened to you. You loved that he wanted to surprise you, and you loved him more than anything, but you had been serious when you had said you didn’t wanna go anywhere on your birthday. You knew however, that if he had made plans, that sweet smile of his would be able to convince you to do just about anything. You wouldn’t have the heart to say no to him, so you really hoped and prayed that your boyfriend had taken you seriously. That he was just out for a run or something, and not planning some huge gesture, like you knew he really wanted to do.
You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed, calling out for him with no answer. It was 10 am. It wasn’t like him to not be home at this hour, which only made you all the more worried.
Summary: Bucky playing peek-a-boo with his daughter, he then has to leave to cut his hair but when he returns to play the game, his daughter doesn’t react too well to this new *change* of his. Characters: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
If there was anyone Bucky loved more than you, it was his daughter. She is his light, his beacon of hope, his little princess that he adores and would do anything for. From the moment he found out you were pregnant he was hooked, he didn’t have to know the gender, nor did he really care because he loved them already with everything in his soul. He was nervous from the beginning but when little Ava was born he was smitten. The look of absolute wonder was worth the pain you endured for twelve hours. He didn’t want to put Ava down for a second; he was so gentle and soft around her.
Nothing had changed, even a year on; he was still captivated by her.
You remember the first thing Bucky had to say to you when you brought Ava home. “We get to experience life all over again. The first smile, first laughs, first steps. Food, so much food she has to experience; first day of school and first friends. All over again because of her,” the smile he held as he looked at her in your arms, unforgettable.
Ava was just as obsessed with her dad as he was with her. Her first word was ‘Da-da’, he cried for two days because of that- he still hasn’t fully recovered from it. In the beginning, only Bucky could get her to laugh, best sound, as Bucky calls it (you’d say that both of their laughs are the best sounds, better than music). Peek-a-boo is Bucky’s favourite game to play with Ava; it never fails to have her laughing, even now.
You could hear them both from your bathroom, ‘Peek-a-boo’ and then the loud, light laughter of Ava coming from down the hall. You could almost see it as you dried your hair, Bucky with Ava on his lap, her pink blanket covering his face before dropping it and pulling a face at her, her clapping and laughing at his silly antics that you don’t think she’ll ever get over. Once you were done, you padded down the hallway to the living room where Bucky sat on the floor, Ava twirling pieces of his unyielding hair around her small fingers. Steve sat beside Ava, waiting to cut his best friends hair, he must have gotten here whilst you were in the shower.
You sighed lightly, “Bathroom is free now.” You call gently; Bucky smiles at you and gently pries his daughter fingers from his hair before standing up. “She’s not gonna like the change, you know.” You smirk as he rolls his eyes at you, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on your lips before he walked off to the bathroom too, finally, cut his hair. You smiled as Steve followed, a bright grin on his face, it only made you chuckle to yourself.
Bucky had had the long hair since you first met him. Only ever trimming it before now, he had decided he needed a change, well he was going old school with this change. He wanted the haircut he had when he was alive in the forties; you couldn’t deny him of that, he looked hot back then too.
You sat and watched Disney films with Ava, secretly sharing some chocolate from Bucky’s stash, singing along to all of the songs. It was just under an hour when Steve emerged from the bathroom, a proud little smirk on his face, he sat down in the armchair with a smug swagger to him. Ava was too engrossed in the movie, Sleeping Beauty, to even look at her uncle. Bucky walked out, a little hesitation in his steps but you were beyond able to comprehend how good he looked. You grinned at him, he smiled shyly back and rolled his eyes when you mouthed, ‘oh my god’ at him.
Ava, still oblivious to her surroundings, didn’t notice Bucky sit down and pick up her blanket; you frowned, you weren’t sure how she was going to react to this sudden change to her father. He gently tapped her shoulder, when she turned to look at him; she let out a little giggle and pulled the blanket away herself.
“Peek-a-boo,” he smiled brightly at her.
She remained staring at him, blinking slowly at his face and now short hair. She turned and looked at you briefly, going back to looking at Bucky with confusion and…sadness. Her blue eyes welled up, she huffed, and cheeks already going red and Bucky gave you a look of regret. Tears dripped out of her eyes as she shook her head, repeating the words, “No! No, daddy, no.” As if she was scolding him for making such a decision.
He sighed sadly, “It’s still me, pumpkin.” He tried to pull her to him but she pushed his hands away, shaking her head and crawling back over to you. “Steve, I told you this was a stupid idea.” He reprimanded his best friend instead, throwing the blame to him.
“Babe, you know this was your idea, I think it looks good. Ava just needs time to get used to it, that’s all.” You smile reassuringly at your husband; he just slouches against the sofa, staring longingly at his daughter wanting her to hug him.
Steve left shortly after Ava’s moment, she isn’t too happy with her uncle either. “That was a disaster, she hates me now,” Bucky sulked in your bedroom. “She’s never gonna go near me again, I’m the worst dad ever, I hate my life.” You refrained from rolling your eyes.
Instead of answering him, you go and give Ava her usual bath. Listening to her talk about how she will miss his long hair, “Did… dad cut his hair so I’ll stop playing wif it?” Ava asked in a small, vulnerable voice. You stopped washing her hair, frowning as she refused to meet your eyes. You called Bucky into the bathroom, where you told him what Ava said and left so Bucky could explain to her that it wasn’t because of her, at all.
“Why do you think I cut my hair because of you?” Bucky asked gently, washing the shampoo out of Ava’s hair carefully, she shrugged. “I love you playing with my hair, I know that it being this short you can’t braid it like you used to but there’s enough,” he smiled as she grinned at him. “Anyway, Thor has better hair than I and Natasha love’s when you play with hers.”
You walk back to the bathroom when it had been over ten minutes, stopping when you see Ava, dressed in pj’s stood on the counter, still managing to be smaller but brushing Bucky’s hair, using her princess hairbrush. Bucky facing away, making faces at the pull of the brush, catching your eye he grins at you.
“You know, I think it’s still long enough for cute pigtails,” You grin as Ava jumps with glee at you, almost slipping but Bucky catches her in time. “C’mon, let’s watch Moana and style his new hair,” Ava claps as Bucky sighs gently but smiles at his two favourite girls.
(Currently, having some other stuff looked over, so I quickly wrote and queued this. I’m gonna be solely working on finishing a lot of my series, you can still request but there’s gonne be a delay in when you see those. sorry. - Rosalee)
Notes: here’s another collab from me and Steff! Here’s some super hot Thomas smut because I’m thirsty for Thomas and you all know it. Oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, riding, marking, jealous, cheating.
The Many Aspects Of Newt Scamander’s Hair: Volume One
A brief observation of Newt Scamander’s Cinnamon Fluff.
In other words, my obsession with Newt’s hair is out of control and I had to write a list of head canons about it just to satisfy my desire to touch it.
“Honey? Are you coming to dinner soon?”
“I just need to finish these last few lines.” Newt’s feather quill was writing swiftly, as his eyes focused on the manuscript before him.
You stood behind his chair and ran a hand across his collar. “You’ve been working all day.”
You began to massage the back of his neck.
He moaned softly and you could literally see the tension in his neck and shoulders from being hunched over a desk all day.
You moved your hands to each side of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair, as you massaged his unspoken discomfort away.
You were sitting in bed, reading, surrounded by candles.
“Darling? I don’t… feel well. Can I come lay by you?” Newt’s weak voice broke the silence as he shuffled toward the bed.
“Love, come here."
Concerned, you rested your hand on his head to sense if he had a temperature.
You ran your hand through the side of his hair and discovered it was very sweaty and curlier than normal.
"Aw, love. You’re burning up. Let me cool you down."
You grabbed a hand towel, soaked it with lukewarm water, and sat with your back against the pillows. Newt curled up against you in the fetal position and laid his head in the middle your lap.
One hand held the towel in place against his forehead while your free hand smoothed the sweaty curls at the top of his head.
"You don’t have to take care of me. I’ll be fine. It’s just a smidge of a headache.”
“Shhh…just sleep, my sweetheart.”
Newt has a fetish with your hands – in his hair. To him, it is the one of the most sexy and euphoric signs of affection you can gift to him. He never openly admits it, but he loves it when you pull his hair gently as you kiss him passionately. You rake your hands throughout his curls, completely tangled in each strand and he yearns for it. You can tell by the way he moans against your lips and his heart races. You love earning that response from him.
The after effects are the best, when he gets up to go to the bathroom and you glance over at him – his curls are sweaty and disheveled. You laugh gleefully and he has the cheesiest, most pleasured smirk on his lips.
Love drunk, you call it. It’s the most attractive expression you’ve ever seen.
On the rare event that you were going out at night to a party or for dinner, Newt would attempt to “slick” his hair back. It was a special occasion after all and he wanted to look his best for you. It would always make you giggle. He looked so grown up.
“Darling? Am I going gray?” He inquired, a slight look of terror in his eyes.
“I don’t see any gray.” You smirked and turned away quickly, how could you admit it to him?
“Newt, I think it’s sexy.”
His eyes brightened, “Well then, nothing to worry about. Come love, let’s go.”
Wind blown. Always.
Newt scurried about the habitats almost as quickly as the Niffler stealing a coin feeding each creature their evening meal.
“Slow down, Newt. They’re not going anywhere!”
“There’s no promise of that!”
A moment later.
“Oh bugger! Where has Dougal run off to?”
Every night, whether in the shower or the bath, Newt would sing. Sometimes, you would listen from the sitting room. Sometimes, you would listen at the door. Then on those very special occasions, you would storm into the bathroom and just stare at him.
“Did you hear me singing?” He blushed.
“How could I not?”
His hair was sopping wet, his bangs flat against his forehead, practically covering his eyes.
“Have you come to join my choir?” He asked, with a wink.
“Absolutely! What part shall I sing?”
Perhaps your most favorite was when Newt was laying next to you on his feather pillow, falling asleep. His face looked so serene and calm. The worries of everyday life fading away to dreams.
You kissed his lips lovingly and he stirred, reaching out for you with closed eyes.
As you scooted into his arms, your fingers found their way to the side of his head, and you spent several moments affectionately stroking his hair.
He let out the softest hum of contentment as his hands slithered around your back, pulling you closer to his chest.
Sometimes, Newt would be feeling insecure about life - whether it be memories of Hogwarts or his irrational fears of annoying people.
You were sitting on the couch in front of the fire, drinking a cup of tea, when in comes Newt - silently, he lays down on the couch facing the fire. He rests his head in your lap and exhales.
Your run your hand through his fringe, kiss his forehead, and continue to stroke his hair back for at least an hour.
When he finally stands to go to bed, his hair is all stuck up on one side.
Somewhat similar to sexy hair - it is the ultimate bed head. It’s the leftovers from however he was feeling or whatever you were doing the night before.
“Oh love, you might want to look in a mirror before you go to work today.”
“What is it?”
“Erm,” You smirked, “Let’s just say… you or I got a little too carried away last night… and I’m pretty sure the creatures will even be able to tell.”
“Time for a shower, then?”
Sometimes when Newt was really deep in thought or trying to solve a problem he would bite down on his wand or run his wand through his hair. You were always kind of afraid he would say a spell out loud and turn his hair green or light it on fire but he seemed to manage well enough.
“Be…uh, be careful Newt!”
“Wha - what? What’s wrong?”
He was tapping the wand against his head, staring down at the book in his hands.
You inhaled sharply, “Nothing, darling.”
The normal every day Newt hair. Beautiful, perfect, cinnamon fluff.
“I love you. Have a wonderful day, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.”
You kissed his cheek and used one finger to peek under his curls.
He smiled affectionately, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and reached down to grab his case.
“I’ll miss you all day.” He blushed, with a crooked smile.
On The Run Hair
Chasing creatures around NYC. Running around his case trying to get everyone fed. Trying to save the world. You were constantly wondering how he managed to even see as he did these things but when he came home at the end of the night, covered in dust, with remnants of meat from feedings, and pieces of grass interwoven throughout his textured hair – it made you all the more proud he was yours.
“Rough evening?” You smiled as he climbed next to you on the bed.
“Merlin’s beard! I’m never stepping foot from our bedroom again. Quiet life for me from now on.”
“Yeah, right!” You tease, as he attacks your neck with kisses.
If I think of more, I’ll add them. :)
I just have to give a shout out to Eddie who literally inspired this today because when I saw this pic…
~Dean picks up the pieces after a devastating accident~
Dean x Reader, Sam
Warnings: Angst. Death. Blood. Implied Sexual Activity. Mostly just Dean Angst.
A/N: This is my entry for @butiaintgonnaloveem Baby’s Big 50 Writing Challenge! My song prompt was Meatloaf’s ‘Paradise By The Dashboard Light’. I went in a totally different direction than I had originally planned, I hope you like it…
For the first two days he did nothing. Bruised and concussed, Dean sat on a stool in the garage staring at the wreckage.
Sam checked on him every few hours. He brought him food at mealtimes and cold beers now and then that sat at his feet untouched. He didn’t bother him; Dean was grieving. Sam had seen it before, but this time it was worse. He didn’t speak, refused to look up when Sam entered the room. Gone was the brave front, the placations that so often peppered the elder Winchester’s vocabulary. He wasn’t fine, so he didn’t say it. Sam kept a watchful eye, but he left Dean alone to do what he had to do.
On the evening of the second day, Dean got up; he legs protested with the sudden movement and his muscles twitched, reminding him with each step of the trauma. He ignored the pain and set to work, silently walking around his Baby, deciding where best to start. His hands passed over the hood, dipping into the fresh dents; his fingers catching on the mangled metal that stuck out at odd angles.
If you haven’t, this follows “Whipped…friends??” which you can find here. And the first part to this you can read here.
Y/N had tried her best to fall asleep. Tried to ignore the noise that New York was. She’d hailed a cab from the restaurant to her hotel, bidding good bye to her cousin, thanking him for taking time out of his day to keep her company.
She didn’t however excuse the sudden need to get out of the restaurant when Harry came into view. And her cousin didn’t ask questions, guys normally don’t.
But in the darkness of her room, she couldn’t keep out the thoughts of Harry taking over her mind. She tossed and turned, checked the clock to see it had only been seven minutes since she’d last checked it.
So when the soft knock on her door caused her to sit up abruptly, she thanked the heavens for the short break it allowed her mind to take from thoughts of Harry.
That is, until she heard his voice.
And if she was being honest, as unprepared as she was for this, she knew she had to talk to him. That is why she came to the city after all, wasn’t it?
Harry’s words were able to erase every doubt that Y/N had before last night. They laughed at how oblivious they both were; at the fact that obvious signs that they wanted more than to stay friends went over their heads.
They sat on the hotel room couch, talking about anything that happened during that short time they weren’t talking.
Harry listened and watched Y/N talk about how she would still do lunches with Gemma. Even admitted that she would try to find a way to bring Harry into conversation just to see if he was doing okay.
Harry confessed that he knew, because Gemma told him, and Y/N could not have gone a darker shade of pink.
Harry recounted to her every moment he could remember of when the boys teased him, mimicking their voices the best he could to make her laugh.
“So then it was really me you lot were whispering about all those times?” Her giggle has Harry smiling like a child who’s just found out their crush likes them back.
And it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, it’s just nice hearing him say it.
“Wha’ ye’ laughing for?? Was a real pain in the ass. Wouldn’t leave me alone ‘bout it.”
She laughs even harder then.
“D'ye know how hard it was t'keep them from sayin’ anythin’ t'ye? Didn’t wan’ ye’ finding out over one of Louis distasteful jokes.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t actually.”
Harry chuckles at that, reminiscing on the countless times Louis’ comments nearly got him caught.
All in all, it was nice.
It was nice to have Harry back. To have him on the verge of tears at her lame jokes.
“Knock, knock!” Y/N excitement grew because she had honestly just came up with this one.
“Who’s there?” Harry loves jokes. He loves telling them and having people laugh because they think his jokes are witty. He’ll even take people laughing at them because they’re plain idiotic. Harry also loves being told a joke, especially if it’s Y/N.
“Woo.” And she’s trying to contain herself.
Harry and Y/N are similar in the way that when they’ve got a real funny joke to tell, or at least they think they do, they laugh for a ridiculous amount of time before they’re even able to tell it. Or they’ll start their joke, and as they rehearse it in their head, they’ll explode into laughter, eyes squinty and arms over their tummy because “s'a real good one okay! Jus’ wait.” This usually has others rolling their eyes at them because no one they know takes longer to tell a joke than they do.
“She’s an angel.” Harry thinks her excitement is priceless as she points at him with both index fingers. And he follows her lead for the sake of seeing her smile.
“Woo who! My only angel, woo who! She’s an angel, woo who! My my my my only angel!”
After that, she begged for an encore. Actually, she had him sing bits and pieces from songs she wanted to hear raw, unplugged with no instruments. Harry, of course, complied.
Now, waking up to each other isn’t much different now than it was a few weeks ago when they were nothing more than best friends.
Back then, if Harry wanted to lightly peck at her shoulder for some sort of reassurance that yes, his Y/N was still with him, he would. He would do it first thing when he woke up, a sour taste in his mouth because he needs to wash his teeth. And she never minded, returned his affection with a smile, hooded eyes crinkling because sometimes it was still too early for her.
Back then, if Harry wanted to cuddle her whilst they lounged about at a friends house, he would. Didn’t matter if he was having a conversation on the couch with someone else. The moment Y/N walked by in front of him, he would tug at her hand until she settled next to him, which never took much. She would roll her eyes at him, but smile none the less as he tucked a hand underneath her knees, moving them to rest on top of his thigh. He would then proceed with the conversation he’d been having, hand on Y/N’s calve.
It was normal for them, and their friends never asked questions anymore.
The only difference now, is that if Harry wanted to wake her up with a kiss to the lips, he can.
And Y/N no longer feels the need to come up with some excuse when Harry suddenly wakes and catches her staring at him.
Instead, she smiles warmly, gripping at the heavily tattooed hand that rests on her waist.
“Mmm, mornin’,” he manages, voice raspy enough that he coughs once to try and make his words sound clearer, “starin’ at my face were you?”
Y/N doesn’t try to hide it. She likes the way he’s looking at her, one eye peeking open, half a smile visible because half of his face is still pressed against the soft hotel mattress.
He stirs a bit, propping himself up on his forearm only to plop back down on his tummy, body closer to hers.
Harry smiles wider at the touch of her fingers raking through his hair to get it away from his face, the pads of them grazing his scalp.
Still the same.
Harry’s arm lazily slung over her made her feel comfortable…safe. It’s not nearly as close as they’ve been before when they cuddle in bed, but something about his dopey smile and squinty eye has her feeling giddy. Because finally, she doesn’t have to hide the side of her she’s been wanting him to see. Affectionate in another sense, affectionate in a more free way.
“S'that bad?” Y/N cuddles herself even closer, turning on her side and leveling her eyes to his.
Harry says nothing.
“Tell me again?”
And he doesn’t need to ask what she means by that.
He simply moves to scoot closer again, lifts up his head to look at her better, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“I love you.”
Y/N doesn’t remember how she got home.
She can’t believe she let herself get so upset over Harry interacting with his friends that she got so pissed drunk to the point she can’t remember much from last night.
It’s all a haze, and if she knew she would be sporting a killer hangover, she would have stopped on the second drink.
She reaches for the water and bottle of pills laid on the night stand, clearly aware that it must’ve been him who placed them there for her.
Two pills in one gulp.
Even though the window curtains are closed, she can make out the lining of light that manages to seep through the edges of the material. And she really can never thank him enough for always taking care of her, especially when she gets like this and her tolerance wears thin.
"Harry?” She whispers, and again, no answer.
She can see the outline of his body sat on the chair by the corner of the room, slumped over, hands running through his hair.
“Hey. Baby? You okay?"
As much as she wanted to stay in place, tucked under the comfort of the duvet, she needs to see if he’s okay. So she turns on the nightstand lamp, wincing in the process, and lifts up the covers. She crawls to the foot of the bed, head tilting in a way to try and get a better look at him.
"C'mere.” She pats the spot next to her. She would get up and go to him if she could, but she doesn’t trust her body enough to get her across the room with out falling at some point.
Harry doesn’t say anything still. But she notices the way his body shakes, and even he can’t completely silence the sobs escaping his lips.
“Harry! Babe, no, no-” her frantic voice causes Harry to look up for a mere second, long enough for Y/N to make out the redness of his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.
He wipes at them hastily, bowing his head back down, trying to shut her out.
How could Harry even think this girl looked anything remotely like his Y/N?
His heart is racing still, mind going at a million miles an hour, but blank at the same time.
It’s shock that’s keeping him here. Sat on a bed foreign to him, next to a girl who’s seeming to be sleeping peacefully while his world falls apart.
What the fuck is he to do??
He doesn’t think twice, he needs to talk to someone. He needs advice.
But the minute he does it, the minute he opens his mouth and reaches out to someone..anyone..it’s out there.
So if part of him wanted no one to find out, why has he phoned Louis?
“Calm down, mate.” Harry doesn’t care much for the tone in Louis’ voice, he needs to talk to him.
“Look, Harry. I can’t understand what you’re sayin’ if you won’t call down!”
“Fuck, Louis!” He exasperates, “I fucked up. I fucked up and Y/N’s g'na hate me. I can’t lose her, Lou. Not her.”
Louis can recall a handful of times Harry’s gotten himself into serious trouble. He’s always been able to keep it on the low though. But for Harry to call him this distressed, stumbling over his words, and practically crying. That’s something else. He can’t recall the last time he’s heard him this shaken.
“I don’ know who she is, Lou. I’ve got no fucking clue who this is.”
“Harry,” Louis really doesn’t wanna assume the worst, but he can’t think of anything else Harry would be frantically going on about that has to do with a chick, “what did you do?”
“I don’ know. I woke up in a bed tha’s not mine. Stripped down t'my briefs.”
This is never a conversation either of them thought they’d ever be having.
“Did you use protection?"
Shit. SHIT! That hadn’t even crossed his mind.
"I don’ know."
Y/N can’t think of a single thing that might have Harry like this. She hops off the bed almost too fast, but catches herself before she can trip.
"Love, why’re you crying?” She tugs at his hands to try and pry them away from his face, but he barely budges.
“Talk to me, H. Whatever it is we can get through it."
The soft strokes of her hands on his thighs do little to nothing. How is he suppose to tell her?? How. What can he say? She’s going to hate him. But he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. How could he have done that to her?
"Harry, please, baby!"
His heart breaks a bit more at the sound of her voice cracking, unable to contain herself.
He wants to tell her he loves her. He loves her so much that he can’t imagine Harry with out Y/N. Wants to tell her Harry doesn’t exist with out Y/N. But where does he start.
The silence is eating at Y/N. It’s beginning to feel like there’s not enough air in the room. She continues to beg Harry to tell her what’s wrong.
"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, H.” But she wishes he would. “Just tell me you’re okay,” still, the strokes of comfort from Y/N’s thumb on his waist fail at calming the uneasiness.
A million things are going through her mind. But the only one she’s stuck on is literally squeezing at her heart.