I went to theYayoi Kusamaexhibit at the Hirshhorn Museum a few weeks ago and it was amazing. Here are a few pictures of one of my favorite installations, the Obliteration Room. This is the end of the exhibit, and everyone is given polka dots to place in the room before leaving.
‘Our earth is only one polka dot among a million stars in the cosmos. Polka dots are a way to infinity. When we obliterate nature and our bodies with polka dots, we become part of the unity of our environment.’ - Yayoi Kusama // more pictures + info to come on this artist & my visit.
As night falls on Devils Tower National Monument, it transforms from a place of darkness into a place of wonder. Thousands of twinkling, glittering stars dot the night sky over an astounding geologic feature that protrudes out of the rolling prairie surrounding the Black Hills. Stay for nature’s night show at Wyoming’s Devils Tower – it’s worth it! Photo courtesy of David Kingham.
Summary: Dan had always thought he was the moon. Phil Lester was definitely the sun.
Word count: 3917
Warnings: A very brief mention of contemplating self-harm.
A/N: Though I’ve been writing fanfiction for like five years, this is my first phanfic, so I hope it’s not too bad. Also, special thanks to Gisele (@fringegaps) for encouraging me to write this, and then for helping me get the confidence to actually post it.
Desc: Can you do a Kai imagine where he meets a girl who has the same past as him (except the whole killing family thing was in self defense) & well shy and quiet she seems to be the only one who sees something in him & stands up for him & laughs at all his jokes & he doesn’t understand why he loves bringing her out of her shell & seeing her laugh at his dorky jokes & basically a imagine where they, two people who have been scorned by love, fall in love & learn to understand it ❤
She ran into him by accident. It was around two in the morning, and the stars dotted the black canvas in the sky like sprinkles of golden fairy dust. It was cool out, the gentle breeze just enough to bring goosebumps to her skin, and it smelt of the fresh pine trees of the forest she was running through. Her hair was pulled atop her head in a loose and messy knot, oversized sweater hanging over her palms, her eyes hooded and lips chapped. The girl’s battered combat boots smacked against the leaf strewn ground, her breath heavy, leather bag dangling off her shoulder as she sprinted like her life depended on it.
The girl slammed face first into something, her hands coming up to massage her face as she groaned out in pain. She inhaled a raspy breath, blinking around in bewilderment when she realized there was nobody and nothing there.
“Hello?” she uttered into the desolate forest.
The voice was almost inaudible, so faint and nervous she almost missed it. It seemed to come from directly in front of her, and yet when she stared in the direction of the voice, all she saw was the dark outline of a faded oak. Suddenly, a boy melted from the shadows, literally seeping out in human form. He was tall and lanky, with ruffled brown hair and shining blue eyes that were filled with hurt. The moonlight cast shadows across his sculpted facial curves, full lips, and faint stubble. He’d been cloaking himself with an invisibility charm, smart.
“You have magic,” the girl stated in disbelief, tilting her head and looking the boy over with curiosity.
“And that doesn’t scare you?” his voice rumbled low.
She narrowed her eyes, “no.”
The girl raised a hand towards the boy, and a golden wisp of light erupted from her pale fingertips and engulfed the two in an orb of glimmering light so they could see only each other in the folds of the dark night. The boy stared at the girl in awe, his mouth hanging open a little. He looked her over, impressed.
“You too,” he breathed.
“Me too,” she responded, feeling suddenly shy when he looked her over with those startlingly blue eyes.
“And what are you doing running through the forest in the middle of the night?” he asked, brow arched.
“I could ask you the same,” she says, folding her arms over each other.
“No, really,” he asks sincerely.
“You wouldn’t get it,” she clenches her jaw, and he picks up on the little pulse and crinkle in her eyebrows.
“I might just,” he whispers, his eyes flickering back and forth between hers.
She twirls a long curl of hair around her fingertips, eyes planted to the brown soil, heart sinking. The memories pain her to think about, and when she does, the golden orb around them falters momentarily.
“I’m running,” she admits with a heavy sigh.
“My family,” she swallows hard at the lump in her throat, eyes coming back to the boy’s. He doesn’t seem phased at all, but he frowns when he sees her looking so fragile and hurt.
“Anyways,” she shakes her head, snapping out of her trance. “I can’t keep up too long or they’ll find me. So…goodbye, stranger.”
She moves to sidestep the boy, but he grabs at her wrist, shaking his head, “Kai.”
“Kai?” she breathes.
“My name,” his lips twitch faintly.
Her body relaxes, maybe she can stay another minute.
“Well, it’s actually Malachai,” he stumbles softly. “Malachai Parker.”
“That’s a beautiful name,” she says bashfully.
Kai scoffs, “yeah, right.”
“I mean it,” she smiles sympathetically, seeing the look of disgust he has for his own name.
Kai chews his rosy lower lip in disbelief, thinking she’s joking at first, but her facial expression holds still. A breeze swoops gently over them, and he catches a whiff of her sugary perfume, it’s intoxicating, and he wants to move closer to her but he doesn’t.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, letting go of the knit sweater he clung to.
She tells him her name, and asks what he could be doing at such an early hour.
“Running,” he mimics her.
He sees her facial expressions soften, lips bending downwards and eyes saddening. She’s so precious and delicate, nothing like himself.
“From your family?” she whispers, taking a step closer to him.
He couldn’t bear to drag such a fragile girl into his messy life, so he decided to scare her off now rather than later, since lying would only hurt her. And he didn’t want to see her more hurt than she clearly was already. Something about her…he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he only knew she didn’t deserve to be with a disaster like himself.
“No,” he said icily, stiffening his back. “I killed them all.”
The girl froze, heart hammering, instinctively taking a step back.
Good, she was scared.
“Why?” her voice trembles.
“Because I’m the black sheep,” he laughs bitterly. “I was an outcast in my family my entire life, the broken one, the ‘faulty gemini’. My sister Jo was the perfect one, oh, everyone loved Jo. But not me. No, I was isolated from my own family,” he spits with anger. “I bet it was really nice to stand around and judge me, while they got everything out of life.”
“Why?” she asks again, sounding more curious than frightened now.
Kai cuts her off and draws closer to her, “you should go,” he growls.
“Tell me,” she demands, standing her ground despite every part of her body urging her to run.
She was clearly terrified, but was stubborn enough to try and hide it.
“What makes you think I won’t hurt you?” he says with dark eyes.
“Because I know what it feels like,” she snaps, her face inches from his malicious one.
That expression on his face melted off like ice, and he steps back, “what?”
“Show me,” she responds nervously.
“Show you?” he questions, unable to hold the facade.
He hated the feeling of control the girl seemed to hold over him. Why wasn’t she running yet? Everyone else would have…
“Show me your ability,” she demands quietly, rolling up her lavender sweater and shoving her wrists out to the boy.
“H-how did you know?”
“We’re not so different, you and I,” she says, “just…do it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits with a shake of his head. Funny how quickly he switched from selfish and psychotic to caring and compassionate.
“Kai,” she begs.
He takes a rattled breath, his hands clammy as he approaches the defiant girl. He can feel energy radiating from her bloodstream, and he wants it, needs it, like a drug. She doesn’t look afraid as his slender fingers lock lightly on her wrists, the cool rings that decorated his fingers pressing into her skin. Her beautiful eyes hold to his own, and he keeps them locked to hers as the orange glow burns into her flesh. Her magic oozes into his bloodstream, but it’s different than usual, stronger, he thinks. His mouth tips open as he groans from the feeling he’s missed so much, her energy diffusing throughout his body, and he can’t help but close his eyes from the pleasure. Any second now she should be gasping out for him to stop, crumpling from the pain of his siphoning, but she doesn’t. Then he drops her wrists, snapping back to reality, feeling more alive than he has in ages.
“Why didn’t that hurt you?” he breathes, still on a magic high.
“I don’t run out,” she responds flatly.
“How is that not a gift?!” Kai gasps.
“Because when I have so much it makes me overwhelmed, and I- I can’t control it. My emotions tip even just a little, and my magic comes spilling out of me. The rest of my family thought they could just fix me, because I was some sort of threat to out coven. A-and sometimes I only wanted to help, but it makes me do bad things…hurt people,” she mutters, eyes to the floor. “It’s darker magic, watch.”
The girl stoops low to the ground, where a small pink flower blossoms innocently from the ground. She brushes her fingers to the soft petals, and Kai watches as the plant dissolves into black ash under her finger pads.
“My mom came after me one day,” she shudders, “I didn’t mean to, I was just trying to protect myself.” Her wrist quickly swiped away a falling tear, and she cleared her throat, pretending it was all alright.
He wanted nothing more than to wrap that girl in his arms that instant.
“You don’t scare me, Malachai Parker,” she stands, her body alarmingly close to his.
Nobody ever called him by his full name, this was new.
“You’re not as twisted as me,” he denies. “I’m bad news, a psycho, or sociopath, if you will.”
He runs a hand through his chestnut locks, overwhelmed by the closeness of the girl.
“Stop trying to scare me,” she says. “You’re not like that.”
“And how would you know?”
“You’re not bad, you’re just…broken. I know that feeling.”
Her eyes reflect the golden sparkles around them, hair cascading across her perfect face. Her ability to care confused him.
Kai scoops down to the ground, touching the pile of ashes where the flower was moments ago. His eyes close as he uses his siphoned magic to revive the flower, and soon he’s plucked the rosy thing from the ground and is facing this girl again. She looks at the flower with admiration, the faintest of smiles on her little lips. Kai picks off the stem, and brushes back the girls hair affectionately, sliding the pink flower into the crook of her ear; it suits her wonderfully. Her cheeks blush noticeably, and she chews nervously at her lower lip. He can’t help but trail his fingers across her perfect skin, surprised that she didn’t pull away; nobody ever let Kai touch them. He liked that feeling a lot.
“Look at us,” he says, “two broken pieces.”
“Maybe two broken pieces make a whole one,” she laughs suddenly.
He loved that tinkling bell-like laugh so much, he wanted to hear it again and again.
“You know you’re like, really pretty,” Kai blurts without thinking.
She smiles a radiant smile up at him, “don’t tell me Malachai Parker is actually feeling,” she jokes.
He shoves her playfully, but grabs each of her arms afterwards so that she’ll stay close to him. When he pulls her back, her chest goes thudding against his, and she instantly resumes her nervous stance.
“Hey,” he says, his fingers crawling under her chin and lifting it up so their eyes meet. “You have too much power contain, and I don’t have any at all, maybe if we work together we could balance each other’s faults, you know?”
“Work together?” she blinks up at him. “Not, alone?”
He bends over her, the electric currents of her skin against his driving him crazy with longing. Her lips were so close, begging for his.
“There is a place for everyone in our universe And you my friend are far from home But me? I’m right where I want to be” —- I’m so sorry for the long ass post and for another sappy klance pic with lame quotes!! (I made up the quote for those who are wondering!) I am a slut for keith feeling like he’s finally home with his space family and of course with lance lol
A/N lol I was so stressed about my exams I went and cried in my
bed. then wrote some smut. That’s how you deal with school problems
Also sorry it literally took me 9 years to write this
A groan escaped Baekhyun’s lips as he lowered
himself into the sofa chair opposite you. You looked up from your phone that
sat between your fingers.
“You alright there?” He landed stiffly in
the chair, sighing again once the cushion seemed to wrap around him.
“I’m so sore…” he grumbled. “We
practised endlessly today.”
“Oh dear. They really do work you hard, don’t
they?” You mused. Baekhyun shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes
crinkling and brows furrowing as he winced at the pain.
“Ahh, it’s my back.” He looked up at you,
his eyes drooping in self sympathy.
“Do we have any pain killers or
something?” you asked, standing up from your seat. “I’ll go and
look.” You began to turn away but Baekhyun stopped you.
“Wait. Maybe you could… possibly…” he
"Give me a massage?” His eyes shone
pleadingly and you couldn’t help but agree.
“Okay. Let’s go to the bedroom then."
After taking a good couple of minutes for Baekhyun
to heave himself out of the couch, he lay down on his front, his chest sinking
into the mattress of the double bed.
"Be gentle,” he said, his voice cracking.
“Don’t worry, I will.” You couldn’t help
but smile at his innocence, positioning yourself adjacent to him. You kneeled
on the bed next to him, stretching out your knuckles and testing your hands’
flexibility. You placed your hands on the cotton of his t-shirt, gently rubbing
circles towards the top of his back. Almost instantly, Baekhyun let out a
content sigh. You gradually moved further down his back, continuing the same
You caught glances at his face, tipped on its side.
His eyes were shut, often squeezing together in satisfaction.
“Jagiii…” he mumbled, reaching for the
hem of his t-shirt and pulling it up to expose his skin. You couldn’t help but
feel distracted by his voice, his sensual sounds igniting something in the pit
of your stomach. You tried to ignore it, assuming he was too tense for what you
had in mind.
He stayed in the same position; you presumed he’d
wanted the contact of your hands against his skin. He let out a hiss as your
fingers pressed into his back. “Your hands are cold,” he stated.
“Sorry." You worked
your hands over his flexing muscles, pleasing Baekhyun with each movement.
As you continued massaging him, he continued to
produce unforgivable moans and groans that you tried desperately to distract
yourself from. His lips were parted and his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he
were concentrating on something. While you were examining his features, he
suddenly turned in your grasp, rolling into his back. His eyes gazed up at you,
any sense of tranquillity disappearing as a dangerous and cheeky glint seemed
to replace them. He half smiled, a cocky grin playing on his lips.
"Why don’t we do something we can both get pleasure from?” You
mirrored his devilish smile. Taking that as a yes, his arms snaked round your
waist as he pulled you atop him. Your lips connected and your long forgotten
massage turned into a fiery kiss full of passion and want.
control and rolled you both over, so your back was lying pressed against the
mattress while he held himself above you.
This time, moans escaped your lips as his hands
roamed over your body. At your voice, you felt his crotch harden against you.
His fingers crept up your t-shirt, cupping your bra. He smiled and gently
pulled it upwards, revealing you only in your bra. His hard stomach
pressed against yours as he dipped downwards and connected your lips together
again. Both his hands found their way behind your back and unclasped your bra,
exposing your chest completely.
His lips moved from
yours to wander against your cheek, then your jawline and your neck. All the
while, his hands were working at ridding your body from your remaining clothes.
“You feeling better
now then?” you murmured, soon followed by a gasp into his hair. He was still
sucking at your neck, leaving beautiful marks that claimed you as his own. He held
his body up with his hands planted heavily either side of you, locking you into
his own personal prison.
“Much better,” he breathed
against your neck. You arched your back into his body as one hand came to
circle your core. His finger coiled around your clit before entering it inside
you. You shivered and pressed your hands into his back, feeling your nails
indent small curves into his smooth skin. You melted into his touch, your eyes
rolling back and your eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure.
finished sucking your skin and he began gently nibbling on it. You shuddered in
response. You began to feel a line of sweat glistening on your forehead as
Baekhyun’s arm movements seemed to go quicker and quicker – now two fingers
buried inside you. You moaned and whined out breathlessly, repeating his name
like a chant.
You could feel his grin against your skin. His
teeth grazed across your collarbones as he cockily smiled at the reaction he’d
caught from you. You threw your head back as you were dissolved in pleasure –
your first orgasm fast approaching. “Baek… Stop…” you gasped. “I want to cum
with you-“ you attempted to stop him, you’d wanted to share your orgasm with
him. But he ignored your efforts, his right hand coming to lay gently across
You moaned into his
hand as your high suddenly shook through you – a bold of electricity shattering
through your veins. Your heart beat incredibly fast while time seemed to slow
down around you. You cried out Baekhyun’s name, your nails pressing deeply into
his skin even further. You wondered if you’d left deep marks behind.
As your orgasm
finally died down, you were left lying breathless on the sheet. Baekhyun pulled
his fingers out of you, bringing them up to your lips and letting you clean
them for him. You gazed at him adoringly, sweat glistening all over your body.
Your legs unconsciously crossed themselves, protecting your burning heat from
While regaining your
stability, your fingers found their way to Baekhyun’s belt and undid the clasp.
You pushed them down his thighs, pulling his boxers down with them. As his rock
hard member slapped against his muscular torso, you smiled hungrily, arousal
making its appearance once again.
You wrapped your
fingers around him, stroking a finger over the head and running your hand up
and down. You started to pull yourself out from underneath Baekhyun, expecting
you both to change positions so that you could pleasure him yourself, but his
hands flew to your shoulders, his iron grip keeping you in place.
“No, I want you too
much. Now,” he stated huskily. Happy to comply, you felt his arms return to
your thighs, pulling them apart again. He positioned his hips readily, his cock
pressing lewdly against your entrance. He was further away from you now,
instead of lying directly atop you he was half kneeling lower down. He looked
carefully at you, eyebrows raised in question. It was one of the sexiest things
a man could do – you thought – showing they’re asking for consent. You reached
forward, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him down to kiss him.
With this movement
forwards, he entered you. You moaned simultaneously into one another’s mouths, saliva
mixing between the two of you. He started slow, thrusting at a consistent pace
until quickly he began to charge into you. His hips moved so suddenly against
you that neither of you could commit or concentrate on kissing, your lips just
lying parted against each other. They both sung each other’s names.
“Oh my god,” you rasped,
his dick brushing against your one spot of pleasure. His eyes clamped tightly
shut as he repeatedly hit that same place inside you, your moans only
increasing. His skin shone with sweat, drops even occasionally falling onto
your skin as he continued to rhythmically slam into you.
His pace was soon so
fast it was almost unbearable. At
this point, you’d become putty in his hands and you were an item for Baekhyun
to fuck. He’d moved his head to bury it in your shoulder, growling against your
skin as he pounded into you relentlessly and unforgivingly. One of your hands
buried its way into Baekhyun’s hair, holding him closely while his hips rolled
against you. You felt his breath against your collarbone, ragged and erratic as
you could feel he wasn’t going to last much longer. You couldn’t help but
wonder if he was in pain – the movement probably being ten times more intense
than the dance moves he’d performed earlier on in the studio.
A pool of fire
flickered in your stomach, your second orgasm igniting in your body. Baekhyun’s
thrusts never ceased to slow down, although the steadiness began to falter as
he had almost caught up with his end. He panted and groaned, almost as if he
were annoyed at himself, until he thrust into you with so much force that you
ended up coming together – one another’s fluids mixing and combining as one. Stars
dotted your vision as your voice was stolen from you; you bathed silently in
bliss while he repeated your name over and over as if it were a hymn.
He sighed out in exhaustion
and pleasure, jerking and crashing his chest against yours, lying still against
you. For a few moments you both lay there, catching your breaths and gasping
for air. It took a few minutes for the room to stop spinning and Baekhyun
rolled to the side, falling onto the mattress beside you.
You both continued
to stare at ceiling above you. Satisfied and spent.
began, “that was definitely one way to loosen me up.”
Summary: Y/N finds herself stricken with grief over Dean’s self-loathing; meanwhile, the elder Winchester is trying to come to terms with a newfound revelation of his feelings and how he can voice them out.
Warnings: Dean finding it hard to voice out his feelings, fluff, maybe a bit of angst?? Not entirely.
A/N: Will probably be making this into a series because I’m a sucker for Dean.
The idea was born out of me watching a few fanvids with our favorite hunter which show just how much he has been through. I mean, both Winchester’s have had to deal with a lot of crap, but my soft spot for Dean is what drove me to writing this.
The room is dead silent.
Save for the sound of hush snores and breaths and the whisper of window through vents and into the motel. Outside the sky spread across the city of Atlanta in a blanket of onyx, clusters of stars dotting it. Y/N lies still in her bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to tame the inner turmoil in her chest. Beside her the sheets shift. Dean says something, something about going to wash up before Sam wakes up, but she doesn’t quite catch him.
“Y/N!” he calls, snapping her from her reverie.
The young girl turns to him, head lolling against the pillow. “Yeah?”
“I said you should probably, too, since we still have some time.” She can’t see his face hidden in the pitch dark; she can’t see anything but the silhouette of the elder Winchester sitting up, his hair a disheveled mess atop his head.
“I should probably what?”
“Wash up?” He says it like its obvious. But Y/n doesn’t reply. Only continues staring at him, wide eyes, the light from the moon cast down on her face through the window—and the elder Winchester obviously notices this. Y/N spots a shift in his demeanor: attentive. Concerned. Even if she can’t see them, she guesses the elder Winchester’s eyes soften as he reaches out, touching her bare shoulder.
“Y/N,” Dean speaks. “You okay?”
“You’re an amazing person, you know that?” She blurts out.
The room silences once more.
Between them hangs a surprised quiet. Y/N is still on her back, still hazy-minded and emotional and fighting a hurricane raging in her chest. She can feel it bubble up her throat, spreading through her lungs, suffocating her. Soon she won’t be able to breathe. Soon, in this dim-lit and quiet room perfumed with her emotions, she will turn blue-faced and asphyxiated, because it’s too much.
He’s too much.
He is selfish, and yet altruistic; he is stern and authoritative, as disciplined as a soldier, but kind; Dean is self-sacrificial and generous and swollen with love and yet such despondent and negative emotions picked up as souvenirs from the life he has had to live . He is human, and a paradox in itself and Dean is good and Dean has always been good…
And it hurts Y/N to know that he doesn’t see this…
A moment ago, as she’d lay in his embrace, having to listen to him tear himself down; berate his image, hate himself because of a hunt gone bad. Two teenagers whose parents were vampires. They hadn’t managed to stop them and the kids died, and Dean was mourning his failure and the loss of two innocents. Y/N listened attentively to him as he’d spoke, and felt a wound in her heart coming undone. She feels tears brimming at her eyes just looking at him, at this man who doesn’t feel the way she does about him. This man who sees himself as a completely polar opposite of the reality. Y/N has known Dean for a long time, and she knows what he thinks of himself, what he wrongly assumes he is, and it hurts her.
For he has done so much for her, he has proven his own assumptions wrong and been her light in the dark of their lives, and all she wants is to do the same for the man she loves.
“What?” Dean asks in a hushed tone. She sniffles. There are tears beginning to roll down her face and she’s pretty sure he can see them from the way the light shines through the window.
“I said…” Y/N starts. “That you are an amazing human being, Dean Winchester. You—you are…good, and genuine, and you are my best friend. It hurts me to know that you don’t see this in yourself.”
“Y/N….” Dean tries to speak, but she cuts him off.
“No, okay? …”
“I didn’t save them.” He says sternly. “I could have, but I didn’t and now they’re dead. Don’t try and make me feel better for not doing my job.”
“But you tried—dammit, Dean, you tried. You did your best and your heart was in the right place.” She sniffles, rubbing her palm across her burning eyes. God, she hates this—hates herself for letting it come to the point where she’s in tears, but that’s just how strongly she feels about this matter. “Dean, I’m telling you now—you are a good man. Stop beating yourself up over this, over everything. I’ve known you for what—five? Six years? I know that me telling you this might be useless, but…..”
Y/N bites her lip, trying to level her voice. Between them hangs a deafening silence, ominous, painful. Dean is crying, she soon realizes. Quiet, pained tears that she only knows about when she hears his breath wobble as inhales.
Sitting up, she shifts and moves closer to the elder Winchester, pulling him in. His head rests in the crook of her neck, and she feels him shudder—vulnerable. Dean never lets anyone see him vulnerable, but maybe he should, because the weight he carries on his shoulders is too much not to.
The elder Winchester gulps thickly. “Y/n…”
“It’s okay….”She whispers, cradling his head to her chest, tears running down her cheeks, and the green-eyed hunter sniffles, and his tears touch her skin and it takes all of Y/n’s strength to not shatter.
Leaning back against the headboard, she brings the elder Winchester’s head to rest on her shoulder and he lets her in the quiet. The night drawls on—they stay like that. Together; quiet; feeling. Y/N cards her fingers through his hair as he sleeps, and when he stirs a bit she stops. Her hand floats from his head and rests beside the pillow.
Morning breaks with a burst of light beaming into the motel room and onto the two hunters. Y/N is awake, still holding Dean as she had been through the entire night, still drunk off his kisses and her emotions.
Tilting her head, she peers down at him. His eyes are shut and his breath fans against her bare skin, tickling it. “Dean?” She whispers, tentative and hush and desperate to not shatter the intimacy around them. “Are you awake?”
She waits for a response that doesn’t come, until the elder Winchester lets out an incoherent mumble, and then lolls his head to the side lazily.
His eyes flutter open as Y/N’s face splits into smile, and she continues her strokes on his hair. “Morning.”
“Did you stay up all night?” Dean asks, and she nods. “Why? I could have managed without you watching over me while I slept.”
“I wanted to.” Y/N shrugs, smoothing out stubborn strands of sandy-hair that stick up in all directions. She says it so easy, like she’s telling him her hobby, like it’s his hobby too. Like the previous night they hadn’t made love and she hadn’t pulled him out of the pit of his melancholy.
And Dean looks at her, right here, right now—really looks at her.
At her eyes and the rim of y/e/c embellished with flecks of gold, at hers lips and her ears and the wrinkles and creases drawn out in her tired skin, telling her story. Their story. They’ve been together for so long, now. Have been through so much, and the scars and blemishes and cuts and bruises painting Y/N’s skin matching Dean’s is enough of an alibi.
They’ve spent years together. It feels like a lifetime. And Dean loves that, and he loves her, and he wouldn’t trade anything for it because….He…loves her.
He has loved Y/N for years and he will continue to love her.
The realization is sudden and daunting. Out of nowhere, the green-eyed hunter’s heart begins to race, and his palms begin to sweat and he’s panicking, God, he’s panicking because Dean loves her.
And she loves him.
They leave the motel within the next hour once Sam arrives. Y/N runs a quick shower then brushes her teeth and Sam tells them about the vampire nest he took out. Dean pretends to listen even though he isn’t. He can’t. He’s ruminating over this new earth-shattering realization.
They’ve been dating for months; they’ve been sleeping in the same bed. They’ve been touching—God, they’ve been touching—but it is only now that his heart has chosen to drop this bombshell on his. This feeling; this plague.
What is to him? What can it be for the two them? All this time being with Y/N, Dean has avoided the thought. But the truth is the truth—it’s been lurking in the back of his mind, nudging at his conscience, asking his what if; what if it’s possible, what if he’s the one, and now all these questions are answered.
They sit in the car and begin to drive. The entire journey is spent with their fingers intertwined as Dean drives and his heart a mangled mess hammering in his chest. Y/N and Sam are laughing and talking about the hunt and Cas. He’s waiting for them at home, apparently, but Dean can’t bring himself to care about anything right now, because God, this is torture.
“Feeling okay?” Y/N asks him. The elder Winchester casts a brief glance at her, taking his eyes off the road.
“Just tired.” He answers, nodding. Lying.
But Y/n doesn’t push. Instead, she gives him a sad smile, squeezes his hand in hers, and Dean has to resist from swerving off the road.
His entire body feels electric and like its buzzing when they get home. He kills the engine and Sam and Y/N hoist their things onto their backs and clamber out, making their way into the house. Dean follows suit.
In the library, Castiel sits in waiting, and then rises once he hears the sound of footsteps. They say their hellos. Dean gives him a hug—he’s truly happy to see him—, they exchange pleasantries, and then he retreats into his room, his alibi being that he’s not feeling good.
When he’s alone, finally, the elder Winchester shuts the door behind him and then leans against it, dropping his bags onto the floor. His head tips back and his eyes shut.
Finally alone. Finally able to gather his thoughts. The hammering in his chest has slowed, and Dean immediately strips himself of his jacket and tosses it on the bed, left in nothing but his undershirt as he goes to sit at the edge. With his head bowed, he cards his fingers through his hair.
He needs to tell her.
Soon, as soon as possible. Dean has been a hunter all his life—he knows just how fleeting life is. He knows how one minute you’re there and the next you’re not, and thinking about Y/N never getting to hear him utter those three words to her makes his heart wrench. Not only once, either.
Dean wants to say it over and over.
To chant it, to sing it—his heart feels swollen with love and a craving and a peace that comes with knowing, and he wants to proclaim that, but how? He wonders.
That’s all he can do, for now. Wonder. Think. And that’s all he does for the rest of the evening, and that’s he does when he goes to sleep, and Dean wracks his mind over and over for the confidence he needs to utter those three words to Y/N, but it seems impossible.
He wonders how she does it so easily. ~*~*~*~
This is just a reminder to all of you: Dean is an absolutely
complex and imperfectly perfect and sweet human being who is just trying
to work through his emotions and get through this hell of a life;
please don’t forget.
Likes and reblogs are always welcome! Also, feel free to follow me to keep updated when i post part 2, or maybe even have it dedicated to you..? Just message me and let me know :)
a/n: I’m honestly so nervous because it’s been literally millennia since I last posted something like this…. I hope you guys like it ;) this is heavily based off snapchat…. and…. I’m sorry if it’s too messy jfc I had to stop multiple times
The image of Bucky leaning against his bike taking a long drag of his cigarette would forever be burned into your long-term memory, as you rounded the corner you were greeted with the glorious and erotic sight. You cataloged every detail his boots, the dark wash jean over his long thick legs. The red Henley peaking out from his leather jacket made your libido purr with pleasure. Then you remembered why he was sat outside your apartment at 1 am, your drooling mess of female hormones was quickly replaced with the monster of anger and jealous. She growled throwing obscene gestures while smacking your libido as she made kissy faces at him. Bucky looked up at the sound of your heeled boots hitting the pavement as the raging war of hormones battled in your brain.
“Hey” he greeted, stomping out the cigarette. You nod for him to follow you up; your mind was racing with a thousand questions as you both climbed the stairs. Throwing open the door you rummaged through your bag pulling out the bottle of whiskey, discarding you bag by the entrance you walked swiftly to the kitchen. You listen as Bucky closed the door behind him as you pulled out two whiskey glasses. You re-entered the living room gesturing for him to sit.
author’s note: took my med hum midterm today. i think it went pretty well. been wanting to write for fp for a while but held off all writing until after this midterm, so i could focus on studying. i would like to continue writing for him, and maybe even fred idk.