Okay, so I got this fic idea that I know I’m not able to write, so I’m going to throw it out for anyone who wants to use the idea.
So basically, a lot of times, with Nursey and Dex, when we imagine one of them visiting the other over the summer, it’s usually Nursey going to Dex, right? It’s tough for Dex to go to NYC because of his job and family and yes, finances. But I’m thinking, what if, after they start dating, Dex gets the idea that it might be nice to surprise Nursey in NYC, so he starts saving with the intention being that if their relationship lasts until summer, he’s going to take some time and do it (he’s pretty sure the look on Nursey’s dumb face when he shows up unannounced alone will make the trip worthwhile). And he has some ideas about what they might do, except that when he gets there, Nursey just excitedly starts rattling off the kinds of things and places that only New Yorkers would know about that he wants to take Dex to. And who is Dex to say no to excited Nursey? And they have all sorts of cute moments around the city.
So, can y’all see my problem? I’m just a Michigan boy who’s never set foot in NYC, so I can’t possibly write this. But I really want a fic of it! Can I interest any NYC-area fic writers to do it for me? Please???
of fluff, smut, oral (female receiving)
Winchester x Reader
Thank you for your request (I’m so sorry I just re-read the request and it said
massage, not shower, but oh well. I probably should have done that before but I
could have sworn it said shower.)
particularly rough hunt Sam takes good care of the reader in more ways than
been a particularly difficult and strenuous case, but it was finally over. All of
your muscles ached, you were bleeding from what seemed to be everywhere, and
dirt and grime covered your body. After making it back to the motel you slumped
onto the bed, relishing in the sweet rock-hardness of the mattress and the
course brush of the cheap sheets against your tired skin. Dean had gone to his
room, refusing to drive you back to the bunker until you had all had a night’s
rest and recovery. Sam returned to the room half an hour later once he had
patched Dean up and vice versa.
Spiritassassin headcanon that every time someone insults Baze, Chirrut appears yelling, “Fight me!” And, like, look, it’s Baze Malbus so it’s less people insulting him and more just people being so fed up with how perfect he is so they’re like sitting in the courtyard being all, “And then there’s Baze Malbus at it again. Perfect handwriting. Perfect answer. Just, ugh, perfect.” And then there’s Chirrut wheeling around the corner, robes flapping, screaming, “FIGHT ME!” And the other initiates are just looking at him like he’s lost his goddamn mind because, what.
It eventually gets to the point where Chirrut just shows up shouting, “Fight me!” whenever someone other than him says Baze’s name. Which gets rather annoying when Baze is introducing himself to new people.
“Hello. I’m Baze…”
*long suffering sigh*
Eventually Baze just gives up, takes Chirrut everywhere, allows Chirrut to introduce him, only hears his name in Chirrut’s mouth, which he turns it into “I love you” every single time because Chirrut.
Went on a 5-day, 1400-mile road trip all over parts of Oregon and Northern California for the first time with my buddy Shaun. We slept in the car, woke up at sunrise to photograph, and stayed up until 3 in the morning to see the Milky Way. In the end, were exhausted and badly in need of a shower, but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.
Various state/national parks in Oregon and California. July 2016. (Instagram)
“I don’t know… I mean think about it.” You reply, your mind working like a clock, “He didn’t just drown. He was shot.”
“I know,” He muses with a small smile on his thin lips, “We saw the police drag his body out of Sweetwater River the night Kevin found him.”
You narrow your eyes at him, sensing his sarcasm. Passing the threshold of the Twilight Drive-In. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop talking about it… It’s just-” You cut yourself off, seeing the look Juggie gives you.
Summary: Desperately needing a relaxation day, the Reader is faced with her biggest fear, but don’t fret! Peter is there to save the day.
Word Count: 913 (sorry, it’s short)
Warnings: language, fears, spiders, razors, spa day, tears, fluff, and fluff, caring Peter, more fluff. (Let me know if I missed any).
A/N: Here’s part 2 of my Fears Series! I whipped this out so fast, I surprised myself. These fics are flying out left and right, guys. I cannot stop myself. I know this is short, but I didn’t really know how to make this very long, so hopefully this fulfills your Peter lovin’ needs! Enjoy reading and as always, feedback is appreciated. (p.s. can I have someone to kiss my nose like that pls holy frick ??)
At least once a week you’d try and dedicate a relaxation day for yourself after a hard week of being an Avenger and all.
This week, that day landed on Friday.
During this time, you usually wait to get home from school, a mission, or some other nonsense, to you begin your ritual.
After eating some delicious dinner Vision and Wanda had made for the whole team, you say your goodnights and headed off towards your quarters in the tower.
Making sure you prepared beforehand, you reach your bathroom with everything you needed sprawled out.
Face masks, body scrubs, hair masks, tweezers, nail polish, you name it.
By golly, you’ve been waiting for this day all week and you were definitely going to treat yourself, no matter what got in your way.
#695 for tom holland 😛 [[know you’re busy but i feel u, take your time]] “ [anonnymous]
Trigger warings: Smut, cheesy romcom story lmao
Summary: You just wanted to take a shower and relax in bed after a rough day.
A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble but I made it into a full imagine to fulfill the thirst of my sweet sinful followers that have been requesting Tom Holland. Y’all give me life. I hope you like this. Also I wanted it to be short but whoops.
As soon as
you walked into your apartment you slipped out of your shoes and started
peeling off your clothes. You knew your room mate wouldn’t be home at that time
and you couldn’t care less if your creepy neighbor was staring at you through
the window. Not today. You were too tired to think about it. Too sweaty to stay
on this hideous polo shirt that was the bookstore uniform. All you needed right
now was a nice shower and lay in your bed reading one of those erotica books your
sister gave you because not even your brain were working right to read anything
with depth. You needed to relax.
“Do we have to be here?” Jughead asked from beside you, the both of you hearing the loud music from inside the Lodge house.
You rolled your eyes and turned to look at your boyfriend of two years.
“Yes,” you said.
“It may be a party, but it’s not the typical Riverdale party. It’s people we know. Betty, Archie, Veronica, Kevin, Josie. It’ll be fun.”
Jughead gave you a look that said Seriously? but didn’t say anything in response. You took his hand.
“Come on. We’re not drinking anything anyway. So technically we’re not really going to a “party,”” you said usually air quotes.
Jughead shrugged and you knew you had won him over. You smiled.
“Alright. Let’s go.” you said as you pulled him into the Lodge house.
Jughead disappeared about an hour into the party. You were having a good time so you thought he had went home, not telling you so you could enjoy the party. You were a little disappointed and annoyed, but decided not to let it ruin your evening. You could talk to him about it tomorrow. You were sitting in a circle with the rest of the guests playing Truth or Dare when you heard a drunken,
“No. Way.” Kevin and Josie said, looking at someone behind you.
You turned around and were greeted by a very drunk Jughead Jones from across the room. You couldn’t believe it. Jughead Jones was drunk. Oh man, was he drunk. He visibly stumbled to keep his balance as he walked over to you.
“Y/N.” Jughead said again, his eyes unable to stay on you.
You stifled a snicker as you got up, making your way over to him.
“Jughead, are you… drunk?” Betty said from behind you, already knowing the answer.
“No,” he said and stumbled again, you catching him before he fell.
“I just had a few drinks of that lemonade on the table there.” he said, pointing to the bottle of yellow liquid.
“But—but— I thought it was lemonade.” he whined and the group laughed again.
“Sorry, Jug. It’s not.” Archie said.
You rolled your eyes and looked over at the group.
“Guys, keep playing without me. I gotta pay attention to this moron.” you said as you led him to the couch a couple feet away.
Jughead nearly fell on the couch and you sat down next to him. Then, Jughead turned his attention to you and began to pat your head.
“Your hair is so silky.” Jughead said, eyes wide.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing.
“Thank you, Jughead.” you said, before looking at your phone.
It was nearly 2 am. The two of you should really be getting home. Especially now that Jughead was plastered. Why your idiot boyfriend thought the tequila at the coffee table was lemonade you had no idea. You sighed and put Jughead’s arm around your shoulder, lifting him up off the couch.
“Alright, Jug,” you said. “I know we just sat down, but it’s late. We gotta get home.”
“Y/N…” he whined.
You shook your head.
“Sorry, mister, but you’re drunk as hell, and I’d rather not have you throwing up in my car later.” you said as you began to walk with him to the front door. You waved your goodbyes to the group and were an inch from the front door when Jughead talked again.
You stopped and turned to look at him.
“Yes?” you asked, ready for another one of your drunk boyfriend’s remarks.
Jughead then looked at you with such love in his eyes that he made your breath catch in your throat.
“You make me nervous and happy and horny all at the same time and it’s confusing as fuck sometimes.”
Your mouth dropped open and you blushed furiously at his language. You weren’t expecting that. As far as you knew, Jughead wasn’t one for compliments. And that was okay with you. You knew he loved you and you loved him and that was all the mattered. You didn’t need to shower each other in lovey-dovey comments all day like some couples at Riverdale did.
“I—uh, thanks, Jughead.” You sputtered out, turning around to make sure the group didn’t hear him. They didn’t.
He smiled goofily at you and leaned on your shoulder, eyes dropping. You smiled at him and shook him gently, trying to stop him from falling asleep.
“Come on, Juggie,” you said softly, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You walked slowly with him to the front door. “Let’s go home.”
Dear anon, I ended up using both! It also got long… I’ve been informed the “read more” doesn’t work on mobile so sorry for the insanely long post
16. “I’ll kick his
ass if you want me to.” 148. “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”
The first time happens after Donnie Pfaster.
Scully tells Mulder to take her home, please, and without a
word he leads her away from the scene, away from the horrors. In the car, he
watches her carefully at every turn he makes. They arrive at the motel in
silence and she knows this isn’t home, and she knows they won’t get to go home
tonight, but she lets him take him inside his room.
“You can have the bed. I'll…” He never finishes
his sentence; not that Scully is listening to him anyway. She curls on the bed,
tries to make herself so small, so tiny that no one can ever find her here. She
winces when the abrasion on her chin comes in contact with the oh so soft
pillow. Her eyes close, but the tears find a way through, tainting the white
“Scully, I know you don’t want - how about you take a
shower? Maybe I could have a doctor come here and-
“No. Not tonight, Mulder. I promise I’ll get checked
out tomorrow. I promise. I’m fine.” She doesn’t lift her head, refuses to
look at him; she is done with him pitying her. All she wants now, all she
needs, is sleep.
“Shower?” His voice is closer now, but she can’t
tell where he is; he is close, and she wants him to be close, as long as she
doesn’t have to look directly at him. With her eyes closed, she can almost feel
his arms around her still. His hands on her, just holding her to him, being
there for her. But he wasn’t there before. Before. The water. In the bathtub.
“All right.” His voice is a soft sound; so gentle
that she is not sure she’s still awake. Silence fills the room and she listens
to her own heartbeat, strong and certain; it’s everything she doesn’t feel
right now. There’s another sound chiming in; Mulder. A soft rustling tells her
that he’s trying to get comfortable somewhere around here. She is not going to
ask him to join her in bed. Not this time. So she listens to his tiny noises
creating a lullaby that rocks her gently into sleep.
The dream explodes in vivid colors, blinding her, gagging
The words reach her, somewhere, but she can’t get away.
She’s running, she’s trying, but the hands are around her throat; they’re
grabbing at her, closing in around her throat, choking her, and she can’t even
She takes a deep breath and the hands disappear. Her feet
stop moving; no more running. Half-conscious, Scully realizes this is a dream.
None of this is real. Not the hands around her throat, not the voice. Mulder,
she thinks. Even in my dreams, he is right here by my side.
“That’s right, Scully. Just keep breathing.” The
voice sounds so real that she almost wonders. Almost. She feels soft warm lips
on her cheek, gently kissing her, and she breathes. She just breathes in and
out. The lips descend again, on her lips this time, and now she knows this has
to be a dream. It has to be.
“Just keep breathing. I’ll be here.”
When it happens again, Scully has already convinced herself that
the first time was a dream. The days after the Donnie Pfaster case are hazy at
best and the memory of him, of what happened or didn’t happen, in the motel
room are pushed aside when Melissa is killed.
Scully wants to go home, just go home, and they won’t let
her. Her apartment is still a crime scene. But she can’t face her mother, who
pleads with her daughter to leave her alone, please Dana, and Mulder won’t let
her go to a hotel. Alone. Without a word she sits in his car and when he gets
in it, he stares at her. No words leave his mouth as his eyes plead with her
loudly to please, please look at him. She doesn’t.
The car makes a clicking noise, sounds as tired as Scully
feels. Any other day she might have told him to have it checked out. Not
tonight. Tonight there is nothing to say. Mulder’s hand lands on the small of
her back, some things refusing to ever be affected by tragedy, and leads her
down the hall to his apartment. She slips through the door before him and
settles herself on his couch. The leather, smelling of him, feels familiar and
she closes her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath.
Mulder lingers between the rooms for a moment, decides to
leave the lights off, and finally joins her on the couch.
“You should have let me go to a hotel,” Scully
says and her voice sounds hollow, “There’s no space for two people
“You take the couch,” Mulder gets up again, takes
off his jacket, and sits at his desk, “I’m not tired.”
“Mulder, you’re still in recovery and-”
“No, Scully. I’m fine,” he almost spits the words
out and she startles, “You take the couch, you sleep. I’ll be fine. I have
a bedroom, you know.” She doesn’t know and in the dim light, she can’t
tell if he’s lying. He probably is and maybe she should care. She just doesn’t.
Scully takes the neatly folded blanket from the back of the
couch and wraps it around her. She turns away from Mulder, facing the wall, but
feels him all around her. He’s in the leather, in the blanket and he’s keeping
her safe; despite her not wanting him to. Scully closes her eyes tentatively;
what is she going to see there in the darkness of her own thoughts? But it’s
just blackness, so she leaves them shut and waits for sleep to take her.
When they were little girls Melissa taught her to even out
her breathing so it seemed like she was asleep when she wasn’t. Back then it
came in handy when their parents checked on them late at night. They’d pretend
to be asleep and as soon as the air was clear, they could go back to whispering
secrets or reading. As they grew older, Melissa stopped doing it. Instead, she
would stare their parents straight in the eye, explaining that she was old
enough to stay up. Little Dana was never brave enough.
And she isn’t brave enough today either.
She evens out her breath, tears falling silently,
remembering a sister she will never see again. Mulder’s chair squeaks and then
nothing; afraid he might have woken her up again, he waits. Scully wills
herself to keep breathing deeply. It works. She feels Mulder move, and then
he’s there. Leaning over her. She can do this, she reminds herself. If he knows
that she’s only pretending, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he tightens the
blanket around her. He still hovers over her, as if trying to decide on
something. Then he leans down, kisses her temple, her nose and finally his lips
graze hers. There’s a faint memory; how can she remember the feel of his mouth
when he’s never kissed her before? Just as quickly, he is gone again. In the
distance a door clicks.
There’s no way she can pretend this is just a dream.
They never talk about it, of course. Both have signed this
unwritten agreement that prevents them from mentioning any of this. Lingering
hugs are shoved aside just like almost kisses; just a spur of the moment thing.
Nothing to see here, no, this never happened.
Mulder visits her in the hospital after she points a gun on
him, thinking he was in cohorts with the Cancerman. It’s long after visiting
hours, but to Mulder that’s no reason to stay away. Scully wakes almost,
expecting a nurse, but her eyes immediately close again when she sees him. He
stands next to her and gently brushes a strand of stray hair away. Scully knows
she should say something, stop this. But the truth is she craves his kiss; craves
his touch on her. The moment stretches on and on and on. Scully feels sleep tug
at her heavily and finally it wins out, captures her. She dreams of Mulder
kissing her softly. In the morning she can’t recall if he ever did, or if he
just made sure she was safe.
Scully slips in and out of sleep without control, without
any agenda. Her body fights the aggressive invader and it is getting weaker,
the illness taking the upper hand. She doesn’t expect Mulder to be in her room
in the middle of the night. Crying. He’s crying and her heart, what is left of
it, is breaking for him. With him. Scully wants to take his hand in hers and
tell him it will be all right. There is no strength left in her and she falls
asleep to the sound of his quiet, lonely sobs. She knows he kisses her; she
feels it in her soul, feels how it kindles her flame. Even if only for a short
Mulder kisses her cheek one night when she falls asleep on
his couch after her vacation to Maine. Alone. Not a vacation either. She’s
exhausted, but she’s missed Mulder (she doesn’t tell him that) and she so she
lets him order take out. He tells her about possessed dolls and how he can find
books about this phenomenon if she’s interested. All she’s interested in right
now is being here with him, close to him. His words follow her into her dream
for a while before it all gets quiet.
“I missed you.” Dream or reality. A kiss on the
cheek. One day, she knows, this will have to end. Not tonight, though, as sleep
carries her away again.
Mulder kisses her neck when they’re stuck sharing a bed in
Kroner, Kansas. They’re posing as a married couple in Arcadia, California and
Mulder sneaks into her bedroom, kissing her knuckles; caressing them one by one
with his lips. By the time Christmas comes around, she thinks they might be
ready. She thinks this might be it. They almost kill each other, so maybe not.
Not quite yet.
It happens in New York.
She should be dead. People keep telling her that she should
not be alive and she nods, staring into the other direction. The implications
too heavy to face here, now. Mulder flies out to visit her (another reminder
how close she’s gotten, once again) and hardly ever leaves her bedside.
“I’ll kick his ass if you want me to.” They’re
sharing her jello, because Mulder looks like he hasn’t eaten (or slept) in days
and Scully is beginning to get sick of it already.
“I can kick his ass myself, thank you.”
“Not right now you can’t. I’ll do it, Scully. Just say
He calls her mother for her, explains everything. When she
wakes up he’s staring at her, his eyes heavy with worry, but also with love.
She smiles back at him, silently thanking him for being there. For doing it all
He makes his move the third night she’s there. The nurses
are well acquainted with him now; they know they can tell him to leave, but
he’ll be back as soon as they turn their backs on him. So they no longer try
and just greet him, smile even. Mulder is, after all, quite charming if he
wants to be. Scully, too, is used to him being there day and night. She tells
him to get some sleep from time to time, just leave her alone for a while, but
he is adamant about staying.
“You only get into trouble when I’m not around.”
It’s late when Scully feels tiredness wash over her. She
yawns and Mulder looks up from the book he’s reading.
“Do you want me to turn off the lights?”
“No, I don’t mind. Good night, Mulder.”
“Good night, Scully.”
For a while, he reads. Scully hears him turn pages every
once in a while. She’s tired, but she just can’t sleep. She’s never been a good
patient, and all she wants is to go home and sleep in her own bed. Her thoughts
distract her for a moment. The book is closed softly and something about this
feels different than all the other times. Mulder appears beside her, his body
radiating warmth, and when he leans down she can smell his scent. So much
Mulder. He kisses her eyelids softly and then brushes her lips. She almost
responds; almost opens her mouth to him. But before she can react at all, he is
leaving again, and this time it’s not enough.
“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”
She hears his sharp intake of breath. Scully sits up and bed
and watches him, frozen to the spot at the end of her bed. His shoulders slump
and he shoots her a lopsided grin that turns into a sad smile.
“You never let me take care of you when you’re
“You never asked.”
“Are you sure, Scully? All those times you threw your
‘I’m fine’ line at me. I know you don’t want me to see you as weak. Scully,
I’ve never considered you weak. Not once. And I never will. You’re the
strongest person I know. I just wish sometimes… that you’d let me be there for
you. I never planned to kiss you like this. Wait, you knew about this?”
“I might have been awake once or twice.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mulder sits down on
her bed carefully. She takes her hand in his, feeling confident now.
“I didn’t want you to stop.” She admits, her eyes
“So we could have been doing this for real?” His
grin is back and now she’s wearing a matching one.
“There’s still time.”
“Scully, can I kiss you?”
“You never asked before.” She tells him, leaning
forward slightly and taking the decision from him. She knows the feeling of his
soft lips already; it’s nothing compared to the feel of his tongue sliding into
her mouth, meeting hers for the first time.
If this is a dream, she doesn’t want to wake up ever again.