#I count this as part of the sweater series even doe it's a full ass artwork instead of a sketched drawing

[vii-doodles]

Daltons ❤️💚❤️

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Misplaced Mail - Part 2

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Mini-Series

How does Rowan respond to Aelin's comment about her using him instead of the new toy she purchased?

Fic Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 3

Warnings: Language, NSFW

4644 words

*******

Aelin’s heart pounded furiously as she leaned back against her door. The smirk she’d plastered on slipped and she stared at nothing as she heard her last words echo in her head.

You know, maybe you could help me out sometime and I wouldn’t need this.

‘You’ being Rowan, her insanely hot neighbor who opened ‘this’, the vibrator she’d ordered.

Shit. Fuck. What did she just do?

Realizing she was still holding the toy, she tossed the box across the living room and dropped her head in her hands, groaning.

Oh, Gods, she would never be able to look Rowan in the eyes again. Whatever tentative friendship they had was over; she’d thrown a dildo-shaped wrecking ball into their barely-there relationship. It didn’t matter anymore that the infatuation she had with him had slowly grown into a full-blown crush—maybe something even more—but now, there was no way he would ever speak to her again.

Shit.

And regardless of her crush, she was still his neighbor. They’d have to see each other on a regular basis and, fuck, she was going to have to move.

Before she could keep spiraling, a loud, incessant banging thundered from the other side of her door, startling her enough to jump away from the reverberations at her back.

Aelin stared wide-eyed as the knocking continued.

Obviously, it was Rowan knocking, there’s no reason why it would be anyone else, but why the hell was he here? Was he going to make fun of her? No, he wasn’t mean, and if the last few minutes were any indication he was far too embarrassed at the whole thing.

The knocking kept coming and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and slowly walked back to her door. She stood on her toes to peer out the peephole and froze.

It was Rowan and he was staring directly at her.

He didn’t look like he did a minute ago all red-faced and fumbling for words, he looked determined. But it was hard to tell for sure through the distorted glass. What she was sure of, though, was that he was looking right at her.

Aelin ducked down and took another breath. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. Normally she was cool and confident, but right now she felt like butterflies were having a circus in her stomach.

Get yourself together, Aelin.

She schooled her features and opened the door.

Rowan’s eyes connected with her’s the moment the door swung open to reveal his towering body with one arm resting on the door frame above his head.

She didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at her. She didn’t think any coherent words would come out if she tried, not given the way his eyes were filled with so much heat it almost knocked her back a step. This wasn’t the same embarrassed Rowan who moments before was blushing and stuttering. This also wasn’t the reserved and collected Rowan who she’d had conversations with and who she’d developed a massive crush on. No, this Rowan was something else.

Gone was the pink tinting his face and ears, now replaced by a predatory focus and undisguised desire. He was looking at her like she was an oasis and he was a man dying of thirst. And not a small part of her was thrilled by it.

A slow smirk spread across his face at her silence, but not willing to be outdone, Aelin drew up the courage that allowed her to make her earlier comment.

She arched a golden brow and asked, “Yes, Whitethorn?” Internally, she praised herself for how calm her voice sounded.

The smirk grew as he slowly and deliberately let his eyes drop to survey her from head to toe and back again. She felt every nerve in her body light up as if his gaze was a tangible thing washing over her.

When his eyes met her once more, he took a step forward so that he was mere inches away from her. Aelin could feel the heat of him and barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.

She sucked in a sharp breath as he ducked his head low, his breath caressing her ear as he said in a low voice, “If you really want my help, then call me by my first name.”

She couldn’t stop the shiver that coursed through her as his words hit their mark.

Rowan didn’t move any closer, but she could feel his breath on her skin. He was waiting for her answer before making another move, she realized—trying to see if she was serious or not. When her silence stretched out a few seconds longer, he stepped back. Aelin met his eyes and even though she could see uncertainty there, she knew her own had turned molten at his words. She didn’t think her fantasies about her neighbor would’ve ever come true, but maybe today she’d be proven delightfully wrong.

Aelin licked her lips and it was her turn to smirk as she noticed his attention zero in on the movement. His eyes snapped back to hers and she knew he understood the look of desire and lust she was giving him. A moment passed and she could’ve sworn something electric passed between them.

“Rowan.”

It was as if his name on her lips was permission and a summons because the next moment had her lips crashing against his.

Aelin felt like she’d been struck by lightning. She suddenly couldn’t get enough, and neither could Rowan, it seemed.

Her hands tangled in his hair as his hands gripped her hips, each trying to pull the other closer. Their mouths moved in synch and Aelin couldn’t get enough of the man whose hands now roamed over her body. One of his large hands drifted down to squeeze her ass and she moaned into his mouth at the feeling of it.

Rowan walked farther into her apartment, never taking his mouth from hers, and guided her backward as he slammed the door behind him. She heard the lock click and then both his hands were back on her body. He kept backing her up until she felt the cool marble of the kitchen island at her back causing her to arch further into Rowan. His low growl as her breasts pushed more firmly against him sent hot anticipation coursing through her.

Their lips kept moving together while their tongues tried to savor the taste of the other.

His hands slipped down to the backs of her things, just below her ass, and easily lifted her up onto the counter. Aelin loosed a low moan at the change in position and the thought of all the things those strong arms could do to her. She ran her hand down his muscled biceps and forearms...yes, there were lots of things he could do to her.

She brought one hand to his hair as the other clawed down his back. He made another sound low in his chest and spread her legs so he could step further into her space. His hands on her waist trailed up to graze the undersides of her breasts and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Desperate for air, Aelin broke the kiss and tilted her head back as Rowan lost no time in connecting his mouth to her jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck.

Aelin was on fire. She’d fantasized about this more times than she could count and part of her couldn’t believe it was actually happening. But as Rowan’s mouth continued to kiss and suck along her skin, and as he pressed his hips into hers allowing her to feel his hardness against her body, she knew it was real because her fantasies paled in comparison to this.

She moaned loudly when he found the spot at the base of her neck and collarbone. She felt him smirk against her skin and grip her waist tighter as he sucked a bruise to the sensitive area.

“Rowan,” she gasped and slid her hands across his broad chest and down his arms. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, forcing him off her neck long enough to take the shirt off and throw it across the room. Then she pulled his face back to hers and kissed him deeply. It only lasted a moment before he was gripping the hem of her sweater and pulling it over her head.

Rowan’s eyes turned near-feral and Aelin had never felt more thankful to not be wearing a bra.

Almost reverently, Rowan murmured, “Beautiful,” his eyes trailing over every inch of exposed skin, “so beautiful.”

The rush of heat the pooled in her core didn’t go unnoticed.

Aelin arched her back and then Rowan was on her. She dropped her head back and moaned as she tried to stay coherent through the rush of sensations. Rowan’s tongue and lips took one peaked nipple and were doing wonders at her breast while his thumb and forefinger rolled and squeezed the other one. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her.

Rowan bit down on her hardened peak the same moment he pinched the other and she thought she might explode just from that. She needed more. He lifted his head and began the same ministrations with the opposite breasts.

Aelin couldn’t stop her whimpers as he worked her oversensitive flesh. Her fingers tightened in his hair as his free hand splayed on her thigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles closer and closer to where she needed him most.

“Oh Gods, Rowan,” she gasped, near overloaded with pleasure and anticipation.

He released her breast with an audible ’pop’ and lifted his face to hers, smirking at her heavy breathing and lust-clouded eyes.

Aelin noticed something shift in his face and he let his smirk drop as he leaned his forehead against hers. He was still watching her with desire and need, but there was something more, too—something deeper.

“Aelin,” he rasped, and his breath fanned across her face. He raised a hand to gently cup her cheek, the gesture infinitely more tender than their actions moments before. She leaned into the touch and that seemed to reassure him as he said, “I’ve wanted this for a long time. This. You.”

Her heart stuttered as he spoke. What? He’d wanted her for a long time? She’d wanted him. Had they both just been too afraid to tell each other? Aelin searched his face for answers. He meant it. She could hear the sincerity of his voice and see it in his eyes. She listened as he kept talking while lightly stroking her cheek.

"You're funny and clever and beautiful. When we talk you get on my last nerve, but somehow those conversations are the part of my day I look forward to most."

She huffed a laugh, but Rowan said, "You're the part of my day I look forward to most."

Her throat felt tight. At a momentary loss for words, Aelin kissed Rowan softly, but with all the happiness she felt at his admission.

When she pulled away, he was still watching her. “Rowan,” his eyes shuttered as she murmured his name, “I want this, too. You, too. I have for a while.” And it was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders as she spoke the words.

Aelin’s heart leaped as a bright smile crossed Rowan’s face, and she couldn’t help but mirror it as she thought about how a mere mistake with their mail led to this. How her gorgeous neighbor had opened her vibrator and became so endearingly flustered that she made a joke about using him instead of the toy. How he’d seen the joke as what it actually was: an invitation. How they had just admitted to liking each other—apparently having done so for longer than either of them knew. And how they were both still half-naked, disheveled, and breathing hard in her kitchen.

He kissed her again and this time it was closer to the heat they shared before, but not quite. Aelin needed more, though, so she said with her normal amount of swagger, “You know, If you’d said something to me sooner,” she paused as he trailed kisses down her neck, “then I wouldn’t have had to spend so much money.”

“What?” He detached his mouth and looked at her in confusion as his hands migrated to her thighs.

She smirked, “You have no idea how much I spent on batteries ever since you moved across the hall.”

His eyes darkened and he growled before threading his fingers in her hair and tilting her head back so he could devour her mouth. This time, it was all tongues and teeth. Her hands clawed down his back as she bit his lower lip and tugged on it before slanting her mouth back over his.

Rowan stepped as close as he could get to her body and moved his hand up to the apex of her thighs. She wanted to sigh in relief as his thumb finally—finally—brushed across her clit. She didn’t sigh, but she did moan when he started rubbing small circles on her, the fabric of her leggings and panties making the fiction deliciously sweet.

Aelin could hardly think straight, but she did have the coherency to realize that Rowan absolutely knew how to multitask. One of his thumbs was rubbing circles on her clit while the rest of his hand gripped her thigh with a bruising intensity; his other hand was up massaging her breast, occasionally running that thumb over her nipple, keeping it peaked; not to mention the luxurious way his tongue was moving with hers.

Without warning, he moved his hands to the backs of her thigh and before she could protest the loss of his fingers, he was lifting her from the counter. Aelin wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed a series of marks along his jaw. She thought he’d carry her into her bedroom, but instead, he walked to the couch, apparently deciding the bedroom was too far away.

Rowan sat down on the cushion, keeping Aelin wrapped around him so she had a leg on either side of his thighs, effectively straddling him. Pressed together, they both moaned at the sensation of her nipples rubbing against his hard chest.

Aelin wrapped her arms around his neck and started rolling her hips, desperately trying to get some friction to relieve the ache between her legs. She could feel him, hard and ready, straining in his pants, and Aelin didn’t hold back her groan as she shifted her hips and felt the shape of him press against her core.

Rowan’s hands instantly flew to her hips to grip them and help move her along his hard length. He worked her over his lap a few more times before sliding his handing below the waistband of her leggings to cup her ass in his hands. When he squeezed, she let out a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper.

“Rowan, I need you.” She didn’t think she could wait much longer.

He nipped at her lip and his hands squeezed again before gripping her leggings and panties in a single hold and pulling them down, lifting each of her legs to get them off as quickly as he could.

His hands gripped her hips again but instead of staying there, he used his hold on her to lift her so she was only straddling one thigh. Almost unconsciously, her hips started rolling over his leg. She threw her head back as her naked core ground down against the rough fabric of his pants.

“That’s it.” Rowan’s guttural praise sent another wave of heat coursing through her and she struggled to keep her breathing steady as she rolled her hips faster. “Ride my thigh, baby.” His hands roughly grabbed her hips and moved her faster.

Gods, his voice was almost enough to send her over the edge.

“Rowan, yes,” her grip on his shoulders was so tight she was sure it would leave marks, but she didn’t care, not as the coil in the pit of her stomach tightened with every movement of her body.

He kept one hand on her hip and moved the other so he could rub her clit again. It was almost too much but in the best possible way. She moved faster, pushing down harder against his thigh in a desperate search for more friction. Rowan’s fingers rubbed harder and she screwed her eyes shut as the pressure inside of her built and built.

“You’re so beautiful,” He kissed her neck, “Look at you,” his mouth was right next to her ear sending shivers straight to her core. “Gods, I’ll never get tired of the face you make when you moan my name.”

She was close and his words were quickly sending her to the edge.

“That face, Aelin, is what I’ll see every time I close my eyes.”

She couldn’t respond, just moved her hips faster.

“And all those little sounds coming out of that wicked mouth,” he chuckled darkly, urging her hips to keep moving. “I have all kinds of plans for that mouth.”

She was so close, she could almost taste it—

He sucked on her earlobe, then said in that low purr, “Come for me. I want to watch you come undone knowing exactly who got you there. Come. For. Me.”

Aelin shattered.

All the tension exploded, her head fell into the crook of Rowan’s neck and she opened her mouth in a silent moan. Her legs shook as her orgasm crashed through her in wave after wave of cascading pleasure.

Rowan kept her moving, his hands never leaving her hips. He slowly brought her down from her high, continuing to mutter praises in her ear.

She smiled against his skin; her mind was fuzzy and her body aching in the most amazing way.

Aelin pressed languid kisses along Rowan’s neck. She shifted her hips and could still feel his erection pressing forcefully against his pants. At the movement, he cursed and stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her pressed against him as he hastily walked them into her bedroom.

Aelin sucked a particularly heavy bruise into the side of Rowan’s neck and decided that the low moan it drew from the back of his throat was one of the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard.

“Mm, Rowan,” She struggled to get out words while attaching her mouth to his skin, “I need you. Now. Please.” The last word she said was through a whimper as his fingers found her clit again before slowly sliding down to run through the juices of her dripping core.

He was still holding her up with one arm as he brought the other to his mouth to suck her juices from his fingers, keeping his eyes locked with hers and moaned at the taste of her.

She was panting; Aelin had never been so turned on. And she needed him—now.

“Ro, please” she tried to squirm in his grip.

She didn’t know if it was the desperation in her voice or the name she used for him, but suddenly she was thrown backward onto the bed, landing with a soft bounce. She laid there, soaking in the image of Rowan prowling towards her while unbuckling his belt and removing his pants and boxers. His hungry eyes didn’t leave her face as hers unabashedly went straight towards his cock as it sprung free. Her mouth watered. He was as beautiful as she imagined, and as deliciously big as he felt when she was grinding down on him.

If hadn’t needed him before—which she absolutely did—she would be desperate now—which she was.

And then Rowan was on top of her with an arm on either side of her body. He paused a moment to look at her sprawled beneath him and slowly dragged a hand down her neck, the valley of her breast, her stomach, and finally down to cup her between the legs. He smirked.

He was about to say something else, but she cut him off, “Later.” She insisted, knowing she was plenty prepared for him, “I need you inside me.” Aelin pulled him down so his full weight was pressing her into the mattress. “Side table, top drawer—condom.”

Rowan blindly reached out and grabbed the small foil from where she said it’d be. He ripped it open and rolled it on.

Aelin raised herself on her elbows and bit her lip as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He smirked again and wrapped his hands around her ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a squeal. Rowan chuckled at the sound and smiled down at her.

She grinned back and relished in the feeling that this wasn’t awkward. As she looked at Rowan smiling above her, she knew it was perfect.

He leaned down to kiss her, deep and passionate, then pulled away and held her gaze.

"Aelin." His hands grazed her body. "Do you want me to fuck you?" She shivered as he held her gaze intently. "Do you want me to make you feel good?"

“Yes. Please, Rowan.”

He pulled her body even closer to his and lined his cock up with her entrance. He didn’t immediately push in, instead, he slid the shaft through her folds, coating himself in her slick. When his tip brushed against her clit, she let out a moan.

“No more teasing, I need—”

And then he was sliding into her. And in. And in. Her back arched and she cursed as Rowan bottomed out.

“Fuck, Aelin,” Rowan hissed from between his teeth, his brow furrowing in concentration to stay still while she adjusted. “You’re so tight. You feel so good.”

She couldn’t form words, but she lifted her hips in silent request and Rowan took that as permission to let go

He grabbed one of her legs, resting it on his shoulder, and used his hand to hold her other leg wide open. He didn’t hold back, he thrust into her with everything he had. It was as if the months of silent desire all crashed into him now and he had to show her, physically, just how much he wanted—needed—her.

He shifted the angle of her hips and then he was hitting the spot deep inside that sent her head falling back and a string of curses flying out of her mouth.

“Oh! Fuck, Rowan, yes!” She met his eyes and he turned his face to kiss her calf still resting on his shoulder.

He didn’t slow his pace as he grinned down at her, “There you are. I thought you’d gone mute on me.” She didn’t correct him by saying she’d been anything but mute. Speechless, maybe. Mute? Absolutely not.

Rowan was relentless, and she loved it. His hips kept snapping into hers sending shockwaves of pleasure surging through her. Already, she could feel another orgasm building.

One moment he was fucking her, the next he pulled fully out, gripped her hips, and flipped her over so she was on her hands and knees. Rowan pulled her hips back to his and then he was spearing into her again. Aelin cried out with every thrust, pushing her hips back to meet Rowan’s movements.

Then he slowed down to a leisurely pace and she tried to get him to speed up again but then she felt him lean over her so his chest was pressed flush to her back. She shivered as he spoke into her ear.

“Are you close, Aelin?” His voice was rough from exertion. He was still moving in her but not nearly as forcefully as needed him to be. She wanted him to unleash himself, to fuck her so she couldn’t walk straight.

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, fuck me, Rowan,” she gasped out.

He huffed a dark laugh and moved one hand down her front to tweak her nipple and causing her to cry out. Then his hand drifted further until he was rubbing her clit in harsh bursts. He stood back up, this time pulling her with him, so she was kneeling on the bed with him standing behind her.

She could feel herself getting there.

“You can do it. I know you can, baby.” He picked up his pace and rubbed his fingers in time with his thrusts.

Oh gods, oh gods, it was too much. It was so good.

“Look at me.” Rowan grabbed her chin and tilted her head to the side to plant a wet kiss to her mouth. She wrapped her arms around the back of his head to keep herself in place as he continued to fuck her into oblivion. “I want you to look at me when you come. I want you to know who made you feel this good.”

“You,” Aelin gasped, “You, Rowan. Gods, You.”

She felt her orgasm climb higher. She was right on the cusp of something incredible and she wanted more, needed more.

As if he could sense that she was right on the edge, he moved the hand that was gripping her hip down to her entrance where he kept thrusting relentlessly.

“You’re doing so well.” Another kiss to her neck. “I’m going to help you do even better.”

His middle finger gently brushed the place where his cock was thrusting inside her and—while still using his other hand to rub her clit—pushed his finger inside her along with his cock.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder and he continued to kiss her neck, while she let out a broken moan at the added stretch as he fingered her and fucked her simultaneously.

It felt so gods damned good.

“The next time you touch yourself,” his voice sounded especially strained in her ear, but she couldn’t focus on anything beyond the sensations he was making her feel. “I want you to think of me. To remember how good I fucked you, and how hard I made you come.”

His words were her undoing.

Aelin screamed as released barreled through her. Her legs shook and it was only Rowan’s arms around her that kept her from falling on her face. She felt his thrusts falter and then he cursed as he came, filling up the condom as her walls fluttered around him.

He held her against his body until he could steadily set her down on the bed and slowly pull out of her.

She whined softly at the sudden emptiness, but a moment later Rowan was there lying on the bed next to her and pulling her into his arms.

When she opened her eyes, Rowan was already staring at her with a soft, post-sex, dazed grin.

She knew she didn’t look any less dopey with her smile.

Rowan ran a soothing hand down her arm, gently pulling her closer to him. “Are you okay?” The concern in his face made her heart flutter.

“Better than okay,” Aelin rested an arm across his chest and laid her head on his shoulder, “that was amazing.”

She could help a small giggle that escaped as Rowan grinned at her praise.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day I moved in and saw you outside your door watching as I was moving boxes."

She raised a brow and smirked, “well, I’ve wanted you to do that ever since you moved in and I watched you effortlessly haul those boxes around."

He huffed a laugh and said, “Get coffee with me tomorrow.”

Aelin smiled broadly and tucked herself even closer into Rowan’s side. “It’s a date.”

*****

Taglist:

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[jungshookz]

🧦 stocking stuffers: yoongi’s being annoying as per usual

stocking stuffers are basically the holiday equivalent of teeny tidbits :D i just wanted to give you guys a little something to tide you over while you’re waiting for the second drabble! also yes that is a sock emoji there was no stocking emoji sUE ME 

this started off at five hundred words and quickly spiralled into two thousand words but it’s not good enough to stand alone as a proper drabble so i’m counting it as a puny stocking stuffer drabble

pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

genre; sfw for the most part but there are some suggestive themes because this is demon!yoongi after all <3 

what to expect; “ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me... it turns me on.” 

wordcount; 2.3k

                                      »»————-　🎄   ————-««

“i don’t even know why we’re decorating this stupid thing. we’re going to be throwing it out by the end of the month.” yoongi grumbles, tossing a handful of fake snow onto the tree a little too aggressively before shoving his hand back into the bag

this sucks

when he woke up this morning you told him that you guys would be spending the entire day decorating the apartment for christmas and his morning wood immediately deflated

in fact he’s pretty sure his penis might’ve shrivelled up and died at your words

it doesn’t make any sense

you’re like.,., 25% demon!

you’re supposed to hate christmas because it’s literally the day of christ, but here you are, wearing what has to be the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his entire life (it lights up. what kind of a sweater lights up?!) while happily hanging baubles on this poor tree that should be out in nature and definitely not in this apartment  

“oh, cut it out, you grouch.” you scowl playfully, already fully aware as to why yoongi’s so grumpy today, “decorating is fun! and our presents are going to look so pretty under the tree-”

“y/n?” jungkook pokes his head out from the kitchen and you turn to look at him, “i’m gonna need you to help out with the gingerbread house. construction isn’t going great. there’s frosting everywhere and i ate most of the m&ms. and one of the gingerbread men is missing a head because i got hungry.”

“are you seri- i asked you to do one thing, kook-” you frown, jungkook smiling sheepishly before not so subtly popping an m&m into his mouth, “get back in the kitchen! i’ll join you in a second.”

jungkook pops back into the kitchen and you let out a hopeless little sigh before slowly turning to look at yoongi 

he pauses right as he’s about to sprinkle some more snow onto the branches and narrows his eyes at you, “…why are you looking at me like that?”

“will you finish decorating the tree while i help jungkook?” you turn to look at yoongi before pushing your bottom lip out in a pleading little pout, “please?” 

“what?? no way!” yoongi scowls, immediately dropping the bag of fake snow onto the floor with a thump, “the only reason why i agreed to do this was because it’s more bearable when we do it together- i’m not decorating this tree alone, that’s just pathetic-”

“aw, c’mon-”

“i’ll just wait for you to finish with the gingerbread house and then we’ll continue with the tree-”

“but we have to follow my schedule!” you whine, grabbing your notepad off the couch before pointing at the next thing on your list, “see? 1:00 to 2:00 - decorate the tree. 2:00 to 2:30 - hang the lights out on the balcony- and it’s already 1:30, yoon-”

“for the love of-” yoongi huffs, “okay, fine! fine, i’ll- i’ll decorate the damn tree alone.” yoongi snatches the box of baubles from you but the faintest of smiles twitches at his mouth when you lean in to squish an appreciative kiss to his cheek

the thought of completely burning the tree down while you’re gone briefly flits through his mind but he squashes that thought quickly

he’ll be good for you 

he can behave!

                                     »»————-　🎄   ————-««

“don’t eat the gum drops, i’ll be right-” you step out of the kitchen and your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see yoongi floating in mid-air, carefully wrapping the christmas lights around the tree, “yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hurrying over to him before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his ankle, “yoongi, what the hell are you doing-?!”

“i’m wrapping the damn tree in these lights and we don’t have a ladder-” yoongi wobbles a little when you give him another harsh yank and he glances down to see you looking warily at the kitchen door

heh

you’re... anxious.

he can feel wafting it in the air and it smells so good

maybe he can have a little bit of fun with this…

“so use a chair or something! yoongi, i thought we agreed that if jungkook was here that you wouldn’t do anything non-humany-!” you jump when yoongi suddenly drops the pile of lights into your arms before lying back and folding his arms behind his head

oh god

he’s not going to get down anytime soon

also the only reason why you haven’t told jungkook about the fact that yoongi is most definitely not from this world is because he would pass out from complete and utter petrification

you don’t know how he’s going to be able to handle a spawn of satan when the man is scared of fruit flies!!!!

you’re planning to keep everything a secret until the day you die

(you’re also hoping that the day you pop one of yoongi’s babies out that it doesn’t come out with tiny red horns on its head because you feel like jungkook wouldn’t take that very lightly)

“down. now!” you snap, bending down to set the lights down on the ground so you can go and follow yoongi, “i’m serious, yoongi!” 

“oh, relax.” yoongi sighs, “he’s in the kitchen, we’re in the living room…” you frown disapprovingly when he tilts his head back so that his face is right in front of yours before flashing you a grin, “now, why don’t you wipe that frown off your face and give me a kiss?” he purses his lips obnoxiously and squawks when you shovE your face into his hand

hey!

rude!!

“i’m not going to give you anything until you get down-”

“aw, but decorating the apartment would be so much easier if you just let me do my thing!” yoongi pushes himself all the way up so that he’s next to the ceiling fan, “i can even do some much needed dusting while i’m up here!”

“min yoongi, if you don’t get down right now-” you hop up onto the couch and reach up to grab his foot onLY for yoongi to pull his legs up and cross them, “you know exactly what you’re doing, you sadistic freak-”

“ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me,” yoongi wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling to himself when you start hopping up and down to try to get closer to him, “it turns me on.”

“that means nothing to me because you get turned on by everything-” you grumble, your fingers barely brushing over his ankle as you keep trying to grab him, “like that one time you were watching me eat ice cream-”

“uhhhh, excuse me-” yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “there was white cream dripping down your chin. obviously i got turned on-”

“hey, if you come down now, i promise to do that thing that you said you wanted to do…” you offer, looking up at yoongi with wide eyes before clasping your hands together, “c’mon… isn’t that a good deal?”

yoongi shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at you, “nice try, you scammer. i’m not falling for that again-”

your shoulders immediately drop and you watch helplessly as he floats over so that he’s near the kitchen door

you really wished that inheriting some of yoongi’s aura gave you the power to float as well

all it gave you was the ability to sometimes make your eyes go black

suRE your stamina in bed has improved significantly and you can keep your engine running from sunset to sunrise but that’s not as cool as FLOATING in mid-air

“do not.” you shoot yoongi a glare when he makes a motion to open the kitchen door

“what if i…” yoongi grins, pretending to knock against the door, “oh, look at your face! you don’t like that, do you? you poor, helpless little thing...” he coos, rolling over onto his back with a laugh

oh god

you haTE THIS

“you know i-” your heart practically drops out of your ass when the door suddenly swinGs open and jungkook steps out with frosting all over his hands

“okay, i know you said not to touch anything, but one of the walls were starting to droop so i thought i’d reinforce it with a little more frosting, buT i squeezed too hard and the bag exploded-”

you swallow thickly when yoongi lowers himself a little all while maintaining strong eye contact with you, propping his chin up on his palm before the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin

you ball your hands into tight fists when yoongi blinks and his pupils turn into thin red slits

great! now his creepy demon eyes are out!

okay

you know what?

it’s fine

relax!

you know he’s taunting you on purpose but it’s not like he’s actually going to do anything-

“DON’T-!” you jump off the couch when yoongi wiggles his fingers directly above jungkook’s head, a couple tendrils of his hair starting to float upwards

“okay, jeez!” jungkook raises both hands in defence before scoffing lightly, “i said i’d offer to help clean up but since you obviously don’t want my help then maybe you can get yoongi to help-“ jungkook pauses, glancing over by the tree, “hey, where’d he go? i heard his voice like a second before i came out-”

“he’s dead!” you blurt out, jungkook’s eyes widening immediately

(improvisation has never been one of your strong suits)

yoongi lies down on his back before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, all while floating mere inches above jungkook’s head 

“i mean… he’s… dead-finitely in the washroom.” you correct yourself, trying to hide the complete and utter angeR on your face when yoongi peels open one eye before turning his head and blowing a silent kiss at you, “because he… had to pee. like any other normal human being does when their bladder is full.” 

“that was a very... non-human being way to answer a question.” jungkook snorts, “what’s wrong with you?”

“i just... don’t want you to get your grubby frosting hands anywhere!” you clear your throat, letting out a sheepish chuckle before rushing over to jungkook, “why don’t you start cleaning up and i’ll join you in a sec?”

“but my hands are still covered in frosting-”

“uh-huh, sounds good!” you slap your hands down on jungkook’s shoulders before spinning him around and practically shoVing him back into the kitchen

you close the door before looking up so you can grab yoongi by the collar and pull him-  

?

yoongi is… no longer there. 

the christmas lights on the tree flicker before buzzing out 

okay

so he wants to play games, does he?

“yoongi?” you spin around quickly before walking forwards cautiously, carefully inspecting every inch of the room for any sign of your nightmare of a boyfriend

you jump in surprise when a bauble suddenly falls off the tree and bounces on the floor before rolling over to your feet 

“you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you mumble, bending down to pick it up before gently placing it down on the coffee table 

i’m fucking hilarious, baby. i like to think that’s part of the reason as to why you love me so much. 

“what the-!” you jolt at the sound of yoongi’s voice suddenly echoing in your head 

the last time he was in your head like this was when you summoned him for the first time which was definitely a while ago 

you forgot how weird it was to hear his voice inside your head

“i certainly don’t love you right now, i can say that for sure.” you grumble, “it’s safe to say that i actually hate you right now-” 

you look really sexy when you’re mad at me. why don’t you meet me in the bathroom for a quickie? jungkook will never know. i’ll even cover your mouth with my hand so he won’t hear anything.

you look over quickly when the door to the guest bathroom suddenly creaks open 

ahA 

“yeah, i’ll meet you in the bathroom... to kick your ass-” you storm over, kicking the door open only to see that there’s no one in there, “and then when i’m done kicking your ass, i’m gonna kick your ass again-”

ooh, are we finally experimenting with pain now? i can definitely get into that. i can use your bobby pins as makeshift nipple clamps. 

“you are infuriating!” you snap, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at the ceiling 

you know that being playful is just part of yoongi’s nature but good GOD 

sometimes you just want to strangle him

and not in the kinky way 

at this point it looks like you’re going to have to pull out what might be the most predictable trick in your book but you’re desperate here

you need to sort this out before jungkook comes out to see you talking to yourself like a crazy person 

yeah, that’s right. keep thinking about how annoying i am and how much that pisses you off. angry sex is super hot. 

“oh yeah?” you stroll towards the middle of the living room, taking your time to do so, “you think so?” 

hell yeah. i want you to be on top, too. i love the view.  

“i’ll do... whatever you want me to do...” you trail off, eyes flickering around the room for any sign of movement, “but if you don’t come out in the next five seconds, it’s just going to be you and your hand for the next five days- oh-!” 

it’s only a second later that you’re suddenly being pummelled into from behind

you definitely would’ve fallen face first onto the floor if it wasn’t for yoongi wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “finally! there you are-” 

“depriving me of sex during the holidays??” yoongi whines, digging his fingers into your waist, “now look who’s being the asshole-”

see??

oldest trick in the book but it still works like a charm :’) 

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass. 

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control. 

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention. 

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area. 

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all. 

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside. 

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself. 

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him. 

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong. 

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud. 

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks. 

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top. 

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest. 

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask. 

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders. 

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?” 

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie  @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim 

[seraphdarlimg]

wish I were...

after Harry kisses reader, she watches him mesmerized as his ex walks by

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST. WORD COUNT - 2,109

A/N: this is the first imagine I’ve ever posted on here hehe. but this most likely will be a 2-3 part mini series of pure angst...so yay!

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   "My goodness, I can't believe it's been a year and this is how we're celebrating it? " I take a sip from my wine glass with a raised brow towards Harry. We were sat on the floor at the recording studio, having a makeshift little picnic to celebrate a year. A whole year of a beautiful friendship. "Well I thought it'd be fitting, ya know this is where we met and stuff. Look, I even got those Korean chips that you snacked on that day!" I laugh as he comically picks up a chip and places it in his mouth, followed by an exaggerated moan. I try to hide the blush rapidly heating up my face at how much effort he put into this silly thing. It started as a little joke I brought up to him one day when we were having a lazy day, and of course Harry would take it seriously. He planned the little picnic basket after a day in the studio when everyone else left and he had asked me to stay a little longer to help him with lyrics and whatnot. It was a complete surprise and I couldn't help but adore how happy and proud he was setting this up. 

"Alright I gotta give it to ya H, you are the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for. I'm just happy that you didn't include those disgusting kale chips of yours." The smile that hasn't left his face drops into a shocked and offended look. 

"Hey, you said you wouldn't make fun of my addiction anymore." He scoots closer to me, gently poking my rib to which I immediately jump and swat his hand away. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry!" I giggled when he makes himself comfty sat right next to me. 

Subconsciously, I move closer till his shoulder touched mine. "I like this sweater, it's fluffy and keeps people warm." I say, huddling into the fabric that Harry gave me to wear when it got colder. "You know what, I like all your sweaters H, they're all impeccable."   He chuckles, "really? It looks better on you than me, bubs." I smile, using the over-sized sleeves to cover my face and faking a groan. "Oh you would with that cliché ass line."  "It's true! Beautiful in m'clothes." He mumbles and I had to only respond with gratefully lending my shoulder as a resting spot for his head. Considering he literally had to bend his whole body to do so every time he does this, I never understood how he found this comfortable. We shared a comfortable silence for a minute, sipping on our wine, the bottle nearly finished. The courage coming from it is telling me this would be the perfect time. It's the right setting to finally tell him that my feelings go beyond friendship and that it has been since the first month. The thought made me nervous at first, but there had been so many signs from him that had me thinking he's feeling the same way. Maybe those were just my expectations and how loving Harry is, but every time I look at him, I'm mesmerized. "Honestly don't know what I'd do without you bubs." Harry suddenly says and I snap out of my thoughts to glance down at him staring at his empty glass. My heart started beating fast and my breathe hitched when he pulls away only a few inches away to look back at me "This was a tough year and you've been there with me through it all, haven't been this close to someone in that short of time." He says lowly, looking right into my eyes. I take his hand in my small ones and play with his fingers in comfort, as we reflected on how this was both the best and worst year for him. While he became such a successful solo artist after the band and created the best relationships in his life, he reached a mental low dealing with his own insecurities and went through a breakup that took a major toll on him. They ended on good terms, but Harry went through the aftermath of a loss alone. I came in a month after his break up, hired as a lyricist to help him get out of this creative block but also to help him realize how much he was really worth as a person. It was a gradual slow process of friendship at the start, but it quickly blossomed into becoming best friends, growing feelings in between for me. "You're so good to me, I don't deserve it." He was so close and I couldn't tell if I was leaning in or not. My chest feels like it's bursting. "Harry, you've done so much for me, don't put yourself down like that. You deserve my love, mkay?" He looked so vulnerable, staring into my eyes as I couldn't pinpoint what emotion he was feeling right now. I was always able to read Harry easily, but maybe it was the wine that made it harder to understand what was racing through his mind. I couldn't register it. His lips on mine were foreign but felt right, like they fit perfectly. His hands cupping my face gently made me realize this was actually happening. My best friend who I've loved for so long was finally kissing me. "You absolutely deserve mine... "                                                        ***    My anxiety was getting the best of me. The party wasn't like any other rowdy and crowded New Year's Eve celebration. It was a gathering of close friends and mutual at a penthouse with just enough drinking and fun shenanigans. I knew all these people and they knew me, yet it wasn't easy to breathe regularly for some reason. I smiled and laughed along with the conversation among the circle of friends I situated myself in with Harry standing to my right, two people in-between us. I anxiously played with my fingers wrapped around a bulbous wine glass, zoned out but somewhat participating with the group. I caught his eyes, both of us giving a smile when he shot me a quick goofy face. His eyes trailed down to my hands, an obvious tell. I respond with a reassuring smile, placing my hand on my chest to which he steps outside and moves to stand next to me. I soften as he places a hand casually on my back, rubbing up and down. The nerves die down a bit. Usually, I would of been full comfortable but it was different now. After the kiss Harry and I shared, nothing had changed as much as I wanted it too. There was still the casual flirting and touchy gestures, but other than that, Harry never brought it up. "Soo, what now?" I had asked him when he dropped me off at my apartment. He gives me a tight smile and takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips. "Still my best girl." I was confused afterwards, not fully understanding how he felt towards me. "Hey, I kind of wanted to talk to you about yesterday... " I approached him in the studio, his sweater keeping me warm that morning. "Oh yeah, you never told me what you wanted for Christmas. And by the way, I'm gonna need that sweater back sooner or later." He chuckles, going back to writing down chord progressions. Him avoiding the subject made me think he didn't want to talk about it, so I stopped trying. It made me insecure a bit to show him any type of affection back, but I didn't have it in me to tell him when I'm engulfed in his huge frame, feeling safe and happy at the moment. What made me snap out of my thoughts was his hand leaving my back and slipping into his jacket pocket. He then started being part of the funny story Mitch was telling, including his own side and little comedic comments that made the group laugh. As much as it brought a smile to my face, there was nothing more I wanted to do than take his arm, wrap it around me and kiss his cheek before laying my head on his chest. He took a second here and there to glance at me, probably aware how tired i was getting even though it was only a few minutes before midnight. The kiss defiantly affected something here, as much as Harry was trying to show that it hasn't, I can at least appreciate the acknowledgment that he shared similar feelings towards me. Maybe this was him thinking about the possibilities afterwards, knowing Harry wasn't very much a confrontational person and has taken time to learn to process things more logically rather than pure emotional instinct. When he catches me staring and throws a knowing smirk followed by a wink, I melt right on the spot but at the same time, holding back from rolling my eyes. I felt his stare kept on me when I looked away, feeling less frustrated and more understanding of his situation. Maybe I do just need to give him time... When I looked back at him, he was now looking away at something else apart from the group. I didn't give it a second glance till I noticed he was fully distracted before Mitch kept calling his name but getting no response back. Harry was in deep trance at something more fascinating than his friend's story, and when I caught sight of what was distracting him, I fully understood why. She stood out, so it wasn't to hard to point her out. But of course she would, she looks stunning in that dress that happens to only be a different shade of color from mine. The natural glam and brightening smile on her face as she talked to mutual friends perfected her look, but it was the sound of her melodic voice that just set the deal. It was her laughter from across the room that caught his attention first, what made him break his gaze on me to her. My first thought was concern for Harry and if he was suddenly feeling overwhelmed or distraught by her presence after a breakup. But then I looked back at him and only saw longing and adoration. It was a look I only was recently familiarized with. I purse my lips to hide the frown set on my face while I felt my heart beat much faster initially, watching him mesmerized as she walks across the floor to greet more party guests. Her blue eyes wide and shining, most likely something Harry was dying to see once again as he hoped she would turn his way. Is this what hopelessness feels like? Mitch gave up on trying to catch his attention as soon as he realized who Harry was looking at, and so did the rest of the group. But here I was, desperately looking up at him in hopes that he would suddenly break away and meet my own eyes that stood right next to him. "Guys! The count downs about to start!" Someone called out, followed by cheers and applause as everyone slowly started gathering towards the balcony to see the firework show and celebration of the city below. She moves away from the crowd though, choosing to be semi alone next to the aquarium with a glass of martini in her hand. More people started crowding around us, the group disintegrated into a whole, but my focus was on Harry. As much as my anxiety and tiredness was getting worse, it couldn't compare to the ache in my chest when he takes a hesitant step towards her direction. In a second, my hand flies towards his and gently tugs to me in a last ditch of desperation while I softly call out his name. Maybe it was the way he stopped and turned his head slightly before completely pulling away and walking towards her, leaving me engulfed with the crowd alone. Or that I could picture the loving look on his face when she finally sees him approaching and gives him a welcoming smile while the sound of people counting down from 20 is muddled into the background. All I could imagine to hear was his small 'hi' and compliment for how beautiful she looks, knowing how nervous he would be. "3, 2, 1! Happy New Years!" The celebration of those around me drowned out my glossy eyes as I see Heather take Harry's hand in hers, sharing that same complete adoration look on her face that I was only just becoming familiar with.

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part 2 A/N: feedback would greatly be appreciated :) 

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 4]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Why on Earth does everyone think you and Spencer are dating? That’s just ridiculous! Right?

Warning(s): the pining is strong with this one, alcohol consumption, i think there were like one or two swear words?? pretty tame

Author’s Note: OH MY GOD WE’RE BACK AGAIN!!!!! yeah it’s been WAyy too long I’m so sorry guys. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE!!! I’m almost done with the next part so the wait won’t be NEARLY as bad this time around. Ok love yall hope you like it!!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

The play was a lovely way to spend your evening. You could hear Spencer beside you muttering the words along with the actors. The monologues were beautiful coming from the talent on stage, but it was nothing compared to your best friend’s whispers when he thought you couldn’t hear him. You looked straight ahead to the stage, fearing that he’d stop if you indicated that you were listening, but you still felt his eyes on you as he gently uttered, “I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.”

Hearing the words you had read and swooned over countless times before coming from Spencer’s soft voice made a shiver run down your spine. 

Spencer Reid did not just give you chills, that did not just happen, you told yourself.

The chill that ran across your body contrasted nicely with heat in your face when you felt his gaze roll over your features. You didn’t always like the feeling when someone’s eyes were on you, but something about it being Spencer’s eyes felt… right. You weren’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite, actually. You found yourself being overjoyed in your seat, but you couldn’t tell yourself why.

Or at least you refused to.

When the show ended, Spencer led you out the door you entered from, and you left the library with a dopey smile on your face as you stepped into the chilly autumn night. The sun had gone down during the play and the streetlamps glowed white against the black sky. 

“You hungry?” Spencer asked.

“Starving.”

“It’s a little late for dinner, you think we’ll find a place?”

“It’s only eight o’clock, there’s gotta be somewhere.”

“A McDonald’s maybe?”

You laughed harder than you normally would, but his smile when he made his joke pulled an airy giggle from your lungs that you had no control over.

You wandered for blocks, finding restaurants that were still busy with long waits. A cute ice cream shop caught both your eyes from across the street and you and Spencer thought the same exact thing.

Some things really didn’t change since you were kids.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Of course I am, Y/N, why are we still on this side of the street?”

You crossed the road together, way too excited for grown adults to be about having ice cream for dinner. There was a line, but it was only a few people long, so you decided to wait for this more than worth it opportunity. As you approached the store, a young family was leaving. The daughter, a young girl in a pink sweater, was so focused on her cake batter flavored cone, she didn’t realize she dropped her stuffed rabbit. Spencer nearly stepped on it, but he picked it up and called after the family. They didn’t hear him, so he went after them and tapped the father on the shoulder.

“Hi, sorry, I think she dropped this.”

“Oh my goodness, Lucy, you dropped your bunny!” The mother shrieked.

“Thank you so much, really,” said Lucy’s dad, “Say thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, sweetheart!” Lucy took the toy from Spencer and smiled.

About ten feet behind the scene, you were losing it. Spencer turned around after the family left and made a face while you laughed your ass off. 

“That was the cutest thing I have ever seen!” You giggled as he held the door open for you, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Spencer cracked a smile and bit his lips, gaze dropping to the floor as he blushed.

Okay, maybe that was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

“I miss when Jamie was that little. He was so cute!”

“He’s still a cute kid!” The line moves forward, you’re next up. 

“Well, yeah, of course, he is! But now he knows what words mean and that’s not as funny.”

“Children learn through imitation, so it makes sense he copied things you did and said because you're his mom, he looks up to you.”

“He looks up to you, too, you know.” The family in front of you got their ice cream and left, leaving you to order, “Can I get a sugar cone of cookies and cream?” The girl behind the counter nodded and scooped your ice cream. She then turned to a catatonic Spencer, who was staring at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He snapped out of it and ordered a cup of rocky road with extra marshmallow fluff on top.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked as you pulled out your credit card.

“Paying for our ice cream, what does it look like?”

“No, I’ll pay—” He reached for his pocket, but was too slow.

“Oops, too late,” you said, swiping your card and smirking. The girl behind the counter smiled and waved to you as you left. 

“Did you mean that? Jamie looks up to me?” 

You turned to look at Spencer, whose eyes were full of stars as he grinned back at you, “Yeah! Of course, he does!”

“Really?”

“Oh, don’t be so surprised, Spencer, you’re like his real-life superhero. You saved his life, genius, he wants to be just like you.”

“He wants to be a profiler?”

“Not necessarily. He thinks you’re a secret agent. Like a spy.”

Spencer chuckled, “And how do you feel about that?”

“Oh, it’s terrifying, I hate it.”

“Yep,” Spencer spooned some ice cream into his mouth, “That’s what I thought.”

“I mean, Jesus, Spence, I get retroactive heart attacks from all the shit you tell me about your cases, I don’t know if I want my kid getting into that. I’d worry even more than I already do.”

“You worry about me?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You’re my best friend, genius! Of course, I worry about you!”

You finished your ice creams on the metro and walked home in comfortable silence. As you turned the corner onto your block, you grinned up at Spencer.

“Thanks for playing tour guide today. I had fun. Haven’t gone out with friends since I moved here.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t have any friends here to go out with.”

His eyebrows jumped as he sputtered out a sentence, “Oh. W-well why don’t you come out with the team and me sometime?”

“No, they’re your friends I wouldn’t wanna intrude—”

“You wouldn't be intruding, you're my friend too.”

“Spence—”

“One of my teammates is having a dinner party tomorrow night. He’s a great cook and would love to meet you.”

You dug around your bag for your keys,  “I don’t know anyone else on the team!”

“You know JJ! And Derek, too. He’s been asking about you.” Spencer’s eyes dropped to his shoes again as your welcome mat became way more interesting than your face.

“Really?” He pursed his lips and nodded. You thought it over for a moment and decided, “Fine. Text me a time and address.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, “No, I-I’ll pick you up.”

“Woah woah woah, you’re gonna drive me around?” You laughed in disbelief, “Sorry, Doc, I know our whole dynamic has changed a bit ‘cuz we’re both grown-ups now, but I’m not sure either of us is quite ready for that.”

His smile finally flashed back across his face, “Come on, I owe you.”

“For what?”

“You bought the ice cream!” His voice was high pitched.

You matched his tone, “You took me to the Shakespeare library!”

“You took me to McDonald’s 106 times in high school! I’m sure the amount of money you spent on my food could buy the whole gift shop!”

Your jaw fell open, “You counted?”

“I can’t help it!”

You rolled your eyes, failing to fight back a grin, “Goodnight, genius.”

He bit his lips and smiled, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You jam the key in your door and push it open, closing it with your body as you sigh, leaning your head back against it.

“That good, huh?” Said a voice from the living room, causing you to jump.

“Jesus, mom, what are you still doing up?” You sigh, clutching your chest.

“Well, I put Jamie to bed, I figured I’d wait up for you so I can hear about your date!”

“Wh- mom, what are you talking about?”

“With Spencer! How was your date?”

“That wasn’t a date!”

“Really? So you guys just walked around for hours in silence doing nothing?”

“We didn’t just walk around!”

“So what’d you guys do?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh my god, mom.”

“You’re not denying anything!”

“Mom!” 

“You can tell me, it’s just us girls.”

“He took me to the Shakespeare Library! We got ice cream! That’s it! Nothing happened!”

“Shakespeare Library? Ice cream?” her eyebrows darted up so far it was almost like a cartoon character, “Toots, that’s not nothing!”

“It’s nothing. We just saw a play-”

“What play?”

“Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Your mother closed her book and tossed it next to her on the couch. “Oh! You mean your favorite! Silly me for thinking this was a romantic outing!”

“It wasn’t!”

“Who paid for the ice cream?”

“I did.”

“Did he offer?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t let him.”

Your mother sighed, “You’re telling me it wasn’t a date, but all I’m hearing is that Spencer thought it was.”

“Then why didn’t he make a move?”

“So many reasons! He’s shy! He’s a gentleman! Maybe he thought you weren’t into him.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

Is everyone a profiler now? God!

“Mom, it’s getting late, I walked the length of the city today, I’m going to bed. You can stay over if you don’t wanna drive, but I’m getting some sleep.”

“Right, you need to be rested for tomorrow night. Got a dinner party to go to!”

“Were you listening?”

“The window was open just a crack, I may have heard some of the conversation.”

“Jesus…”

“What? You’re meeting his friends already, this is big.”

You groaned, dragging your feet up the stairs to your bedroom, changing out of your clothes, and hopping in the shower before cozying up for bed. Whether or not you wanted to admit your mom was right, you knew she was. And that terrified you. 

             (Spencer’s POV)

I rang the doorbell of her house at exactly 6:30, just like I said I would. Seconds later, the door swung open and revealed her smiling face shimmering with her makeup. I took in her outfit, a cute floral dress reaching the tops of her knees. I tried to make sure my eyes didn’t linger on the neckline for too long when I noticed a thin silver chain resting on her collarbone. A small heart-shaped pendant dangled from it. 

“Wow.” Was all I could manage, “You look—”

“Totally overdressed, right? Cuz I can dress this down a bit, I just need to change the shoes and throw on a jacket. You know what? I have another dress upstairs I’ll just cha—”

“No, Y/N, you look…” Beautiful, enchanting, stunning, like the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, I thought about saying all of that, but instead, I just said, “Great.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” I tried to say it as sincerely as possible, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yep!” She reached around the door to take a denim jacket from a hook on the wall, throwing it over her shoulders, “Lemme just get my purse—” she glanced around the room and cut herself off with a groan.

“What?”

“I left my bag in my room. Here, come inside, it’s chilly out.” She rushed down the hall to hurry up the stairs to what I’d assume was her bedroom. I stepped across the threshold and into the warm home. There was a faint glow of light from the kitchen, where a child’s laugh bubbled from the room. I followed the sound and found Jamie and Mrs. L/N sitting at the table doing a puzzle.

“Oh, hi, Spencer!” She called.

“Doctor Spencer!” Jamie jumped up from his seat and ran to me, wrapping his arms around my legs. 

“Hey, little man!” I ruffled his hair and flashed a grin to Y/N’s mom. 

I heard the tapping of shoes descending the stairs behind me, “Okay, got everything, you ready?”

I quickly turned around at the sound of Y/N’s voice and saw her smiling at Jamie beside me.

“Goodnight, Jamie-baby, I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Have fun with grandma,” she cooed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“Goodnight!”

“Bye, buddy!” 

“Bye, Doc!”

“Have fun you two, be safe!” Y/N’s mom grinned as she waved us away.

“Oh my god, mom, stop.”

“Okay! Goodnight, my loves!”

“Goodnight!”

Y/N marched out the door and followed the path down to the street, where my car was parked.

“Last chance, Doc, want me to drive instead?”

I passed her to open the passenger side door for her, “Not a chance, I promised.”

“What a gentleman! Now let’s see if we make it there in one piece first.”

The laugh I let out was half-mockery, half-nerves, as I was not the best driver. I had a Ph.D. in engineering and understood more about physics than most people, but that doesn’t mean I knew how to focus well enough to apply that knowledge. When it is literally impossible for me to forget that I have a 1 in 96 chance of dying in a car accident, my hypervigilance does more harm than good.

“So who am I meeting? Who’s on your team?”

My anxieties were somewhat quelled by the sound of her voice, allowing me to pull my thoughts away from the possibility of becoming one of the 20% of fatal car crashes that occur in intersections.

“Well, you already know JJ and Garcia. Hotch, my boss—”

“Tall, dark, handsome? Never smiles?” 

I chuckled, “That’s the guy.”

“He seems fun at parties.”

“He’s actually not that bad. Just a bit too serious sometimes.”

“Okay, and who haven’t I met?”

“The host, David Rossi, Emily, you’ll love them.”

“Is Derek coming?”

IQ of 187 and I still don’t think anyone could have explained to me why that upset me as much as it did. It’s not like Y/N was my girlfriend or anything, she was allowed to want Derek, most girls did, so there was no reason for me to be jealous. She wasn’t mine to lose.

“Yeah. He’ll be there.”

We pulled up to Rossi’s mansion a few minutes later, after riding in semi-awkward silence. She waited for me next to her side of the car, not wanting to walk up to the door by herself. I reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder as I drew closer. She gave me a tight-lipped smile before dropping her eyes to the ground between us.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m nervous, what if they don’t like me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, what’s not to love?” I didn’t even realize how much I meant those words at the time, so I doubt she understood how serious I was, but her smile softened and her shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch. I led her up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Shortly after, Garcia opened the door and beamed at the two of us.

“You’re here! Oh my goodness, so nice to see you again!” She pulled Y/N into a hug that she very quickly accepted. 

“Hi, Penelope, good to see you too.” She pulled away and grinned at me, the worry mostly drained from her eyes now. 

“Come here, boy genius, you get one too!” She wrapped her arms around my waist and my face found its place in her blonde curls. We all went inside and saw the whole team sitting around a coffee table with glasses of wine in their hands. JJ put her glass on the table and got up from her seat on the cushy leather couch to hug Y/N. 

“You’re not one of mine, are you?” Rossi sipped his drink and eyed Y/N.

“Um, this is Y/N, my uh, my friend.” I stammered.

“Ah! You’re the doctor’s little lady friend I’ve heard so much about!” Rossi put his scotch down on the table and crossed the room to kiss her on both cheeks, “Lovely to meet you, bella, I’m—”

“David Rossi. Yes, Spencer’s told me about you. Nice to meet you,” she grinned, shaking his hand.

“Ah,” he scoffed, “call me Dave.”

“What? No fair!” Emily piped up, taking a big sip of wine, “You just met her and she gets ‘Dave’ privileges? I’ve worked with you for months!”

“Emily, look me in the eyes and try to call me Dave.” She looked at him and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but she just took another sip while JJ and Morgan laughed at her.

Hotch flashed a rare smile to Y/N, “Good to see you again.”

“Yes! Glad it’s under better circumstances, Agent Hotchner.”

“Me too. And please,” he extended a hand to her, “call me Aaron.”

This time it was Morgan who spoke up, “No way! Only Rossi calls you by your first name!”

“And me,” Emily mumbled.

“And now Y/N, too.”

“I’m honored, Aaron.”

Looking at her face now all remaining anxiety had just about vanished. I told her she had nothing to worry about, and now she was finally listening to me. Rossi called us all to the kitchen where he told us to grab a plate so he could serve us before we sat down at the table. He gave us each a plate of his famous spaghetti carbonara before taking his seat at the head of the table. The team all chatted about their lives, as we ate. Hotch showed Y/N pictures of Jack on his phone, Emily probed JJ about Will, Morgan, and Rossi poked fun at me for bringing Y/N, but I just rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them. Plates were cleaned, stories were told, and wine bottles were emptied. Mostly by Emily and Y/N.

JJ was the one to try to cut them off, “Don’t you have to drive this one home?” She gestured to me.

She put her hands up defensively, “He picked me up.”

“Reid, you hate driving!” Garcia pointed out, prompting Morgan to spare a knowing glance to Rossi.

“You do?”

“I don’t hate it, I just prefer not to.” I was a profiler, but that didn’t mean I was a good liar.

“Spence, I offered to drive you.”

I shrugged, “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes lingered on me for another moment before taking another sip of wine and resuming her conversation with Emily. I knew they’d get along. Towards the end of the night, Rossi proposed a toast.

“To familia.”

Y/N smiled, staying quiet.

“Oh, come on now, you too, bella.” He raised his glass to her and clinked the crystal, “You’re stuck with us now, get over it.”

“I’m not complaining, Dave.” Her words were to Rossi, but she never stopped looking at me. Probably just had a bit too much to drink.

Right?

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper @theweirdobella​ @sammypotato67​ @k-k0129​ @helloniallslovelies​ @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash

[monabela]

hello! it seems to be @aphrarepairweek2021 and I'm not one to ignore that! here's some... domestic denfin stuff for day 1, language. I've gone for a pretty liberal approach to the prompts this year, but that's mostly so that all my fics will fit into the same universe :> (it is also the same universe as two of last year's rarepairweek fics! I'll make a tag for it) (that is also the reason I had to call sve berwald and not torbjörn like I usually do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) they will all be standalone little fics but take place in the same au, over the same sort of time period!

--

in major scale

pairings/characters: Denmark (Søren)/Finland (Tuomi), Estonia (Eduard), Sweden (Berwald), Hungary (Erzsébet) + past SuFin mentioned word count: 2219 summary: Tuomi admires how much Søren cares about other people. It inspires him to do the same.

--

A series of thumps and clomps heralds Søren’s arrival home. Tuomi looks up with amusement when the door of his little home studio in the back of their house bursts open.

“Tuomi!” Søren shouts. He brings with him the smell of recent rain and early spring blossoms.

Eduard, who is sitting behind Tuomi at his keyboard and wearing headphones, very nearly tumbles off his stool in shock.

“Søren!” Tuomi just returns, while his brother rights himself and glares. “You seem unusually excited.”

Eduard snorts, which makes Søren grin. ‘Unusually excited’ means something different when applied to him than most other people.

“Guess what!” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His socked feet are both tapping on the ground, with no rhythm to it. Tuomi is sure he couldn’t say what’s got into him; as far as he knows, Søren was just looking after his young nephews for the afternoon.

“Your brother didn’t hide the sugar well enough,” he guesses.

“No, that’s—well, he didn’t, but that’s not my point. Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Now, he waves his arms around wildly. “My brother’s gettin’ married, Tuomi! I’m so proud of him.”

Turning slightly, Tuomi exchanges an amused look with his own brother, who has taken his headphones off and is leaning forward over his keyboard, elbows planted over the keys.

“Now, Søren,” Eduard starts, using his haughtiest voice, which is very haughty. It’s an odd talent.

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupts, though he’s still grinning, “bring up the time he and Tuomi were plannin’ on gettin’ hitched, ‘cause that was ages ago and ain’t relevant anymore.”

“Alright, alright.” Eduard holds up his hands placatingly, and Tuomi just snickers. Søren’s right, he thinks; it’s been over fifteen years since then, and although the whole thing where he took up with the brother of the man who was nearly his husband was awkward at first, for all that it happened several years later, he’s since become good friends with Berwald again. It’s probably better this way.

“That’s great, Søren!” he just says. “And you’re gonna be the best man, I assume?”

“Of course!” His dark blue eyes crinkle at the corners, scrunching up his many freckles in laugh lines and dimples. Tuomi really admires how much Søren cares about other people, even if sometimes it comes at the expense of himself. Tuomi can always remedy that, after all.

“That means you’re gonna have to help with a bunch of organizing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound do skeptical of me, Eduard!” Pushing away from the door, Søren lightly strums the strings of an uncovered acoustic guitar sitting in its stand before taking a large step towards Tuomi and bending down to kiss him over the microphone between them, Tuomi angling his own electric guitar out of the way. He smells like sea wind and hair gel, and does taste distinctly sugary behind the smile his lips are still curved into.

Tuomi mutters, “I think you’ll do great. Berwald’s lucky to have you.”

“I hope so. Y’know, the boys are excited as anythin’.” Now, he practically melts, draping his long limbs over Tuomi and his guitar. He always does this when he as much as thinks about his nephews, Berwald’s young sons. Tuomi and Søren are very much the fun uncles. It is a title they both wear with pride.

Patting his jeans-clad ass affectionately, Tuomi pushes his nose into Søren’s wild coppery hair.

“Yeah? They’ve given their blessing, then?”

“Already fightin’ over who gets to be ringbearer.”

“Cute.”

The door of the studio opens.

“Whoa! Am I interrupting?” shouts Tuomi’s half-sister, bursting in.

Eduard, now leaning his head in his hands, says, “Please save me.”

“Berwald’s gettin’ married!” Søren shouts, into Tuomi’s ear. He gets along with Erzsébet far too well.

“Tuomi’s ex?” she yells back, and Eduard promptly loses it. He doubles over his keyboard in hiccupping laughter, shaking and pressing almost all the keys in a horrifyingly discordant tone. Søren looks betrayed in a very comical way. He crosses his arms as he turns to Erzsébet, folding his hands into the sleeves of his red knit sweater. Berwald made that one.

“She not wrong,” Tuomi tells him, holding back laughter of his own. Now even more comically betrayed, Søren turns back to him, with his dark eyebrows raised high and ready to deliver a quasi-outraged speech, but Erzsébet forestalls him.

“You need to make a song for the wedding!”

“Yes!” Tuomi perks up, almost poking Søren in the hip with the neck of his guitar.

“A song?” the man echoes, looking between all three of them. Eduard is now only playing a couple of notes at the same time, thankfully, and he straightens up fully to explain their family tradition.

“We always do it for weddings. It has to be something they’d like, and something the couple can dance to.”

“And then we give it funny lyrics,” Tuomi finishes, “about the person getting married. But we always make sure it’s good.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised about that part, ya snobs.” Søren shakes his head affectionately. He has absolutely no feel for music, but that just means that he appreciates things that most other people wouldn’t give their time of day.

It also means that he somehow considers Tuomi’s very musically inclined family to be elitist about music, which Tuomi thinks is dumb, but he’s not one to argue. He’ll leave that to his brother; it’s very amusing. As a matter of fact, Eduard is already narrowing his eyes at Søren, but doesn’t say anything before he continues.

“I don’t know if Berwald would like that, honestly. It’s not really something we do.”

“Come on, everyone likes music!” Erzsébet enthuses, walking further inside and skirting around Søren and Tuomi in the small space to lean an elbow on Eduard’s shoulder.

“Sure, he likes it, but, I mean—we ain’t like you guys, is all.”

No one is quite like his family, Tuomi thinks, but he appreciates that all the more these days. Søren is the most generous, openminded person he knows, and has broadened his worldview amazingly in the time they’ve been together. Not that his family isn’t openminded; they’re just less inclined to explore than Søren is.

Still, “Music is a universal language, isn’t it?” Tuomi asks him, bumping his shoulder into Søren’s upper arm. He inclines his head in agreement. “It doesn’t even have to have lyrics if you think Berwald wouldn’t like it. Or his fiancé, of course,” he adds, because he doesn’t know the man that well but knows he, like Berwald, doesn’t really appreciate being made fun of, even in good humor.

This is, again, unlike Søren, which is probably why it didn’t work out with his brother and does work with him.

Well, it’s part of it.

Erzsébet, the lyricist of the family, gasps dramatically at the mention of not having lyrics to go with the song, and coughs. She should really quit smoking. Eduard pats her back awkwardly, getting a face full of long brown hair for his efforts.

“And then?” Søren’s asking, but his head is still tilted thoughtfully, as if he’s considering it.

“Well, then it can be for a dance! Consider it a wedding gift from me.”

“His ex,” Erzsébet murmurs, recovered, and Eduard starts giggling again.

“His brother-in-law.” Tuomi blindly throws a guitar pick at her over his shoulder, which, going by the plink and following yelp, hits Eduard’s glasses instead.

Huh. That’s pretty impressive.

“Well, someone will have to teach him how to dance first—”

They all look away.

“—but that sounds awesome, actually! Would you guys be willing to play it?” In his excitement, Søren has leaned very close to Tuomi again, vision filling with his grin and his many, many freckles, and Tuomi can’t help but kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’d love to.”

His siblings make agreeing noises.

“Right! Well, should I—what’re you guys workin’ on, actually?” Søren gazes around the small space as if hoping to glean clues. Which clues, Tuomi is not sure. He can’t really read music, after all.

“Just tinkering a bit,” Tuomi says. Eduard plays the first few chords of the most recent wedding song they’d written, several years ago already. Erzsébet slaps the cymbal of her drum set in apparent agreement, reaching behind her.

“Hey, I wrote some lyrics, actually,” she says. “I think they’re pretty good.”

It’s been years since they actually made original music that they deemed good enough to send out into the world, but their songs are still getting decent amounts of listeners on Spotify, which is nice; it’s mostly a hobby for all three of them, after all. Lately, though, Eduard and Tuomi have started seriously considering making some new material, and Erzsébet seems to be on board. She promises to send the lyrics to both of them. Although she, like both of her half-brothers and much to Søren’s amazement, plays several instruments, she doesn’t have much talent for composing.

Tuomi tried to teach Søren guitar once. It was fun, but very unsuccessful. He does like the drums.

That’s probably why he gets along with Erzsébet so well.

Deciding that today is probably not going to be very productive, all four of them go into the house instead, and Tuomi makes coffee while Søren hands out some cupcakes that he made yesterday, because Søren very much believes that food is a universal language. He isn’t wrong, if you ask Tuomi, but that’s mostly because Søren is very good at making food, unlike Tuomi.

They’ve all got their talents, he supposes, and it’s how they use them in combination that matters. Even if he’s been banned from using the oven for anything more than frozen pizza.

Eduard, of course, asks for the recipe, because Eduard didn’t get that memo about talents and has too many of them.

Tuomi’s siblings don’t actually stay around for very long after that, both promising to think about the wedding song for Berwald. It is mostly an empty promise on Erzsébet’s part, but that’s okay. Eduard walks away while muttering about waltzes, which Tuomi appreciates, because Berwald seems like a man—is a man, he knows this—who appreciates a bit of tradition, and he’s never tried to compose an instrumental, mostly classical song before.

“You’re adorable, you know,” he tells Søren, who’s standing behind him in the hallway of their house after having seen his siblings off. Søren just grins, rocking back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back and looking much younger than he is.

“I’m just happy for my brother.”

“I know.” Tuomi reaches up to flick some errant hair out of the way. “It’s really cute.”

He gets excited about the smallest things, Søren. Random dogs on the street and odd world records and warm coats and almost everything that’s even a little bit nice. It’d get annoying, Tuomi’s sure, if he weren’t so sincere about it all the time. He got very excited about their civil union as well, which was honestly mostly practical. Tuomi had almost wanted to get married, just to see his reaction to it, but he’d decided years before that marriage wasn’t for him, and remains glad that he stuck by that belief, in the end.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Søren suddenly asks, blue eyes searching Tuomi’s face.

“What? Oh, no, of course not. Berwald’s a good man, and he deserves to be happy.” He shrugs. “I know he’s always wanted the whole… Domestic thing.”

“Guy’s had a plan for a wedding since he was twelve or something,” Søren confirms, grinning. “Only took him thirty years and a couple kids.”

Tuomi knows; he was shown the plan, sixteen years ago, but he decides not to mention that. It’d been quite intimidating at the time; he’d only been 22 and much more interested in… Well, practically anything besides marriage.

Søren slings an arm across his shoulders, squeezing him tightly to his lanky form, and starts walking them both back to the kitchen.

“You’d know, I guess,” he muses, then pulls a face. Tuomi laughs.

“That one was your fault!”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

Tuomi stops walking, tilting his head up at Søren.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asks. Turning back, Søren blinks at him.

“Obviously not,” he says, but he bites the inside of his cheek and furrows his dark brows, so there’s evidently something more there.

There’s another thing Tuomi had to be taught by Søren; reading body language. It’s not his fault his family is so unexpressive!

“But?” he prompts.

“I just hope I can do well for him.” Søren shrugs. “He’s my big brother, y’know, and I do kinda feel like I ruined his first chance of marriage sometimes. I know that’s dumb,” he adds hastily.

Tuomi mumbles, “Yeah, that was definitely me.” And then, “Like you say, he’s your big brother. He loves you. Speaking as someone with two older siblings, they might razz you a bit—”

“That’s just your siblings, Tuomi,” Søren interrupts, but the grin is back on his face and just as bright as before. “But I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”

Tuomi boots him with his shoulder, and he laughs, clomping ahead. Tuomi follows, quickly.

Before he eats all the other cupcakes.

[nazghoulz]

The Definitive Ranking of Richard Armitage’s Acting Roles, Rated Exclusively by How Hot I Find Him In Screengrabs

Richard Armitage. As a diehard Thorin Oakenshield fan I certainly have a complicated relationship with him, mainly because I can never decide if I find him inherently hot or not. On the one hand, I’m a hardcore Thorinfucker. On the other hand my gay ass sees a headshot of Mr. Armitage and I’m just like, “Oh, no thank you.” So in order to set myself to rights, I have gone through Mr. Armitage’s IMDB and done a definitive ranking of all his 44 screen roles on there, based completely and arbitrarily on how hot I find him in screenshots. (Thank you to all the hardcore Armitage Fuckers who keep wordpress blogs with screengrabs of his various cameos and bit parts; my respect for you cannot be put into words.) I haven’t seen like 90% of these properties, and I didn’t bother to research them, so these are mainly just gut first impressions. I hope this helps anyone else out there who as confused by him as I am. Enjoy ?

44. Father Quart in The Seville Communion/The Man From Rome (2020)   — ??/10

I don’t think this movie is out yet? Idk I haven’t been able to find any stills of him, let alone much information about the movie itself. It’s listed on his IMDB though! And apparently he’s playing a priest...which could be extremely  👁️👁️ if done correctly.

43. Unnamed Naboo Fighter Pilot in Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999) — 1/10

OH SWEETIE NO!!!!! This physically pains me to say this, because I unironically love this terrible movie with my whole heart, but unlike a yung Kiera Knightley’s role (pictured front and center) as Padmé’s loyal body double Sabé, this is probably a cameo that we would all like to forget about. The only thing Richard has to offer is this unfortunate turtle-faced realness. This helmet does him no favors.

42. Man in Pub in Boon (1992) — 2/10

As far as I know this is Richard’s first acting credit on IMDB, and he for sure is working the background extra energy. Go on girl give us nothing! He does have a decent backside though, and it’s better than looking at unfortunate turtle face, so I give this one a 2.

41. Paul Andrews in Between the Sheets (2003)  — 2/10

I can’t really articulate why, but I absolutely despise every screenshot I see of Richard Armitage in this role. He is completely unhot, and not even in a way I can laugh at. He takes no advantage of his assets, he has no charisma, no magnetism, no nothing. This is Richard Armitage at his most white bread rando, in a way that makes me actively dislike him. Pbbbbttth. Bad. Throw this whole thing away.

40. Craig Parker in Casualty (2001)  — 2/10

I don’t know, it’s like the perfect storm of the gelled 2001 hair, the terrible quarter? eighth? zip sweater, and overall, er, skeezy vibes that he gives off that makes him particularly unhot in this role. Perhaps not as reprehensible as Unhot Paul, but still. I think the sheer boringness of this has to count for something. Blech.

39. Dr. Tom Steele in Doctors (2001) — 2.5/10

He honestly looks like a villain in an early season of Alias, which... well. Quentin Tarantino was cast as a bit-part villain in Alias season one, so take that as you will. But at least he’s compelling here, which is why he gets half a point over Unhot Paul.

38. Steven in Frozen (2005) — 3/10

Get some rest, tall child! You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends! Also short haircuts do nothing for you, Richard. Styled like this, they just serve to make you look sort of like a sleaze.

37. Peter Macduff in ShakespeaRe-Told (2005) — 3/10

He honestly looks like he could be a guest star in Friends in this one, where he’s a guy named Jason who Ross meets in Central Perk where they find they have a lot in common. Ross introduces Jason to Monica and they really hit it off, but it all comes crashing down because while Jason is sensitive and writes poetry, he also thinks that the Earth is flat. The rest of the episode is trying to get rid of Jason while he becomes increasingly obsessed with Monica, and Ross cannot quite let go trying to prove to Jason that the world is round. Anyway. Macduff Flat Earth Jason isn’t quite as unhot as Unhot Paul, but he’s pretty much on the same level as Tired Steven.

36. Phillip Durrant in Marple (2007) — 3/10

Something about him in this image really makes me want to punch him in the face. It’s huge Peter Parker in Spider-Man 3 energy.

35. Young Claude Monet in The Impressionists (2006) — 3.5/10

I’M LOSING MY FUCKING MIND THE FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND IS !!! CARNIVAL BARKER !!!!! STEP RIGHT UP TO SEE THE WORST GOATEE IN HISTORY !!! I was actually going to give Yung Claude a 2 but the more I look at this terrible beard the more impressed I am with the boldness of this look, so I had to bump it up to 3.5. Idk. Just look at this. It’s incredible, especially knowing what kind of beard Armitage can grow himself !!!!!!!!

34. Heinz Kruger in Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) — 3.5/10

This is definitely the best looking he’s been so far in this list, but he’s a Nazi in this one, which makes him unsexy on principle. But do I feel a little something when he gets pinned to the ground by jacked Chris Evans with the above look on his face right before he swallows his cyanide pill? Can neither confirm nor deny. They are also truly playing into his inherently sinister bone structure, so I can respect that.

33. Percy Courtney in Miss Marie Lloyd (2007) — 4/10

Even including Yung Claude and Nazi Heinz, I think Nothing Percy is probably the weakest of Richard’s period looks, mostly because he looks like, well, nothing. He certainly doesn’t pull off that top hat like he does in North and South, and the secret to that might be the lack of sideburns. In this one he just sort of reminds me of the asshole fiance in Titanic.

32. Philip Turner in The Inspector Lynley Mysteries (2005) — 4/10

He’s really giving off bargain bin Hugh Jackman as Wolverine vibes here, if Logan’s energy was more “murderer in a Hallmark channel mystery” than “superhero.” Though, given what sort of show this is, that may be the point! Idk, this isn’t the worst. At least he has a decent haircut in this one. Still, I feel absolutely nothing when I look at him. He’s simply royalty-free stock music given human form.

31. Dr. Alec Track in The Golden Hour (2005) — 4.5/10

I could see how this conceivably be sexy in this role, but to be honest, he’s still nothing to me, sorry. He gets some extra points because he obviously worked out for this role and the hard nips through a white undershirt is a commendable look. I whole-heartedly respect Doctor Alec’s thottitude.

30. Daryl in Staged (1999) — 4.5/10

Speaking of thottitude!!!!! This is one cream-faced business boy that I can certainly get into! He looks like the love interest in a pre-Hayes code homoerotic thriller from the early 1930s. I’m sure that’s just because of the lighting and general staging of this production, but hm... demure. Love it.

29. Capt. Ian Macalwain in Ultimate Force (2003) — 4.5/10

Well, he looks like a character from M*A*S*H but with no charisma, or like an extra in The Great Escape who snitches on Steve McQueen to the Nazis. Also in half the pictures I find of him from this he’s wearing this terrible beret, which I know he can pull off because of a role that ranks much higher on this list. Whoever styles this man really needs to pay attention to what sort of headgear they put on him.  

28. Epiphanes in Cleopatra (1999) — 5/10

Speaking of headgear, you know what?? He doesn’t look awful here. A solid 5, perfectly acceptable. I think the helmet does a lot to accentuate the sharpness of his face in this extremely bit part, though the eyeliner definitely also helps as well.

27. John Mulligan in Moving On (2009) — 5/10

Mr. Armitage’s characters can really have potential when a production’s stylist allows him to wear scruff (IN A WAY THAT LOOKS NATURAL, LOOKING AT YOU YUNG CLAUDE). However, as it is with John Mulligan in Moving On here, he just sort of looks like a rando? They’re not playing into the inherent angularity of his face, which for me makes it sort of confusing regarding what sort of emotion I’m supposed to feel while looking at him. As it is, I’m just like, “Yup, that sure is a regular human man, right there.”

26. Smug Man at Party in This Year’s Love (1999) — 5/10

This is the face of a man who less smug and is more DRUNK OUT OF HIS MIND !!!! Idk. He’s cute here, I’ll admit. That’s all I have to say about it.

25. John Standring in Sparkhouse (2002) — 5.5/10

I enjoy the bold choice of giving him wavy hair in this one, but I’m not sure he quite pulls it off. It doesn’t look bad, per se, just... he looks completely nonthreatening. Which I guess could be someone’s thing, but not mine. He honestly looks like a knock-off Will Graham, sans dogs and trauma.

24. Gary in Into the Storm (2014) — 5.5/10

I think the thing that really gets me is that this character’s name is Gary. Who on God’s green Earth looks at Richard Armitage and goes, “Ah yes, you do look like a Gary” ??? I don’t think I know of a single non-American Gary, especially since the name Gary only got popularized after Gary Cooper renamed himself after his hometown of Gary, Indiana!!!! It wasn’t really a name for human men before that!!!! I want to live in the alternate universe where Frank Cooper was originally from Albuquerque and named himself Albuquerque Cooper and this character is named as such. Gary. Really.

23. King Oleron in Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016) — 5.5/10

I truly hate how much his facial expressions in these stills remind me of Thorin, considering how bad he looks otherwise. Like his face his fine, I guess, especially since this is the first instance of his full beard. I’m charmed despite myself! Take me to wonderland, O King.

22. Adam Price in The Stranger (2020) — 5.5/10

For as compelling as people call this series, Richard here isn’t very much so imo. But despite my utter lack of interest, he doesn’t look bad per se. He just sort of has that stubbly white man blandness that colors a lot of his more recent roles. Like, at least his bad mid-2000′s styling had character. This is just the visual representation of a vague handwave.

21. Harry Kennedy in The Vicar of Dibley (2006)  — 6/10

Gosh... floppy hair, cute sweaters... he also seems to be smiling a lot in this one, which is nice! The only thing I have to complain about is that he looks very much like if Bradley Cooper and Hugh Jackman circa Kate and Leopold had a baby, which may not necessarily be too much of a bad thing, but I can’t unsee it.

20. Sgt. John Porter in Strike Back (2010)  — 6/10

Ah, back to poorly suited haircuts. At least he’s a little bit gritter and grimier than we’ve seen so far, and I will say Richard Armitage does look good covered in dirt, as we will see later on. Also he’s got biceps in this one, which, hell yeah.

19.  Ricky Deeming in Inspector George Gently (2007)  — 6/10

I’M HAVING THE HARDEST TIME RIGHT NOW RANKING THIS ONE BC OF THIS INCREDIBLE LITTLE WHITE SCARF-RIDING LEATHERS COMBO!!! WHICH ABSOLUTE GENIUS DECIDED THIS!!!! EVERY SCREENSHOT OF HIM IN HIS EPISODE HAS THIS!!! Part of me just wants to give Stylish Ricky a big fat 10 because I’m gay and adore the sheer audacity of this look, but I still have to be fair and rank his overall aura accordingly. I think he’s a handsome extremely gay-coded motorcycle lad in this one, but he doesn’t exactly rev my engine, so to speak.

18. Lucas North in Spooks (2008) — 6/10

The tattoos really spice this one up. Luke could have been plagued by the problems inherent in Regular Mulligan’s Moving On styling, but this guy has an edge to him. He has a good haircut and 5′ o’clock shadow, which is something I’ve figured out is integral to Armitage Hotness. I feel like if I got to know this character I could possibly find him sexy.

17. Raymond de Merville in Pilgrimage (2017) — 6.5/10

Speaking of bad haircuts, this one is his undoing. This is almost the perfect balance between full beard and short haircut, which is the only way a short haircut works on this man, but they ruined it with this one! They gave him a bad bowl fade, which completely undoes any inherent sexiness that comes with being a knight. Not even the fact that he’s covered in dirt can turn me on at this point, ugh. Guy of Gisbourne he is not!!!

16. Tom Calahan in Brain on Fire (2016) — 6.5/10

Oh hell yes, WELCUM 2 DA DILF ZONE!!! I’m not super duper thrilled with the looks I’ve seen from this movie, but he seems scruffy and comfy in a way that is slightly refreshing for ol’ Richard. This is certainly the best of his normie looks so far. I’m just sad it took them 24 years to figure out how to style him properly for sympathetic roles in a contemporary setting.

15. James in My Zoe (2019) — 6.5/10

It’s another DILF look, slightly edgier than Comfy Tom but none of that sexy tired energy that we’ll see from Ocean’s 8. I don’t know !! Jimmy here doesn’t exactly thrill me, I think I prefer Tom’s flannels to this sharp bomber jacket/white t shirt combo seen here. Oh well! I am extremely  👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 that he can just casually palm that soccer ball like that.

14. John Thornton in North & South (2004)  — 7/10

Alright. I’m sorry. I just don’t find him that hot in this role. Like yeah, he’s got the scruff and the sideburns that work to his advantage, and the setting does make this character inherently sexy, but in some screenshots he screams too much of an aforementioned Kate and Leopold (the best Meg Ryan movie, imo) era Hugh Jackman to me. And if I was particularly into that, I would just watch Kate and Leopold again. I will admit, however, that this rating could be subject to change if I actually took the time to watch this show.

13. Chop in Urban and the Shed Crew (2015) — 7/10

...I’M??? INTO IT??? He’s dirty and scruffy but also has kind eyes.... I feel like this is knock off Will Graham who has blossomed into his own. His run down, grime-covered own. He’s back edging into Bradley Cooper territory, but somehow it works for him in this one. Like, I’m 89% sure it’s the DILF vibes I’ve been getting from the other screengrabs I’ve seen of this role, and this particular flavor of DILF is way sexier than Jimmy or Comfy Tom.

12. Francis Dolarhyde in Hannibal (2015) — 7/10

His Caesar cut doesn’t bother me quite so much in this, probably because he is pretty explicitly playing a villain in a series that doesn’t have any basis in reality. A villain who is ripped, and who can effortlessly throw real Will Graham around. Armitage uses his inherent sinisterness to great effect as the Red Dragon, which is good actually! I think a lot of how hot he is in any particular role really depends on whether the styling allows him to play to his strengths...idk! I’m not usually a huge fan of clean shaven Armitage, but it works for Frank here.

11. Daniel Miller in Berlin Station (2016) — 7/10

As much as I adore this particular look (beard + fade + green army jacket), I have to compromise and give Danny a 7/10 because it seems like the first season they styled him in usual stubbly white man blandness. I’d say screengrabs from s1 are a solid 6, while this might be an 8, so the average is a 7. That’s all I have to say about this!

10. Claude Becker in Ocean’s 8 (2018) — 7.5/10

!!!!! I love him in this role, I about had a conniption in the theater because I absolutely was not expecting him!! He looks perfectly ruffled and scruffy, edgier than either Comfy Tom or Jimmy, which I’m very into. That plus his two borzois (objectively the best looking dogs on the planet) really put Old Claude over the top for me. Thank you, thank you Hollywood stylists for finally figuring out what to do with him for roles as a Normal Man.

9. Richard Hall in The Lodge (2019) — 7.5/10

I don’t know anything about this movie, but it seems pretty spooky, which I’m into. I think Richard is well suited for this sort of horror/thriller role, where his angular features can play into the overall vibe rather than some hapless stylist trying to work around them. He looks like another cozy DILF here but with a bite to him, like someone who would do anything to protect his brood. I mean, he’s teaching this child to shoot! But idk, he also has the potential for Jack Nicholson in The Shining energy, which I also could be....hm... into. Idk. Is this on Netflix??

8. Lee in Cold Feet (2003) — 7.5/10

FUN!!! FLIRTY!!!! OTTER VIBES!!!!! I LOVE THIS, he seems so goofy here, and Armitage doesn’t usually pull off goofy that well! I’ve giggled at literally every screenshot I could find from the four episodes he was in this show, he seems like a real himbo. I’m a huge fan, even if it comes at the cost of dehydration abs.

7. William Chatford in Malice Aforethought (2005) — 7.5/10

Hoo hoo HOO DO NOT JUDGE ME!!!!!!! Maybe it’s just because I’ve been watching the new season of The Alienist and the new dark and gritty HBO reboot of Perry Mason back to back, but sue me, I love the bold choice they made with giving him a pencil moustache here. He looks like a hot Howard Hughes; if cream-faced business boy Daryl from Staged is the young ingenue in the pre-Hayes Code thriller I cast him in, Bill here is the sexy antagonist. I desperately want to hear a perfect Transatlantic accent coming out out of that  mouth. This look fucks and I’m sticking to that no matter what.

6. Trevor Belmont in Castlevania (2017) — 8/10

Ah, yes, speaking of king himbos... do me a favor and look me right in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t fuck Trevor Belmont. You can’t, can you?????? At least 80% of Richard Armitage’s inherent hotness stems from his voice, and you can’t tell me there isn’t anything sexier than thinking about letting that guy loose in a recording studio and letting him say fuck. Look, Trevor may be drawn that way, but it’s the absolute stupidity coming out of his mouth in that sweet baritone that makes me want to be raw-dogged by 100% pure Romanian beef.

5. Dr. Scott White in Sleepwalker (2017) — 8/10 

Much like I had intimated when talking about Hot Danny in Berlin Station, this is Peak contemporary normie Richard Armitage styling. I honestly think The Hobbit either awakened something in him, or casting directors finally figured out he looks way good with a full beard. His crew cut even works with his whole look, which is a miracle!!!! I think he should be contractually obligated to have a full beard in all of his future roles, but that’s just me.

4. Guy of Gisbourne in Robin Hood (2006) — 8.5/10

I honestly can’t believe I’m ranking Guy so far up here, but honestly, THIS RULES!!!!!! THIS FUCKS!!!!!!!!! Which is incredible due to Guy’s lack of beard, but I’m weirdly okay with it? Like sure, he looks like he’d probably call me a slur in front of his shitty friends, but he also looks like he could tenderly pound me into the mattress in a way that would have me questioning my commitment to the “no emotions” clause of our clandestine no-strings-attached sex agreement. Anyway. Guy of Gisbourne if you see this im free thursday night. please message me back if you’re free thursday night when i am fr

3. Angus in Macbeth (1999) — 8.5/10

HHHNGHGNHNGHGN HE’S SO HOT.....!!! HE’S SO HOT!!!!! Leather jacket!!! Scruff!! Dirt!!!! Flattering beret!!!!! He’s so hot, and the worst part about this is that this was filmed in NINETEEN NINETY NINE!!!!!!!!!!!! Which means we could have always had this, had stylists and makeup artists PLAYED TO HIS STRENGTHS!!!!! He’s so hot I’m getting legitimately angry. Without scruff and dirt this man is nothing. N o t h i n g.

2. John Proctor in The Crucible (2014) — 9/10

Look, I know I have a type. But... this guy is just so hot, Daniel Day Lewis please step aside!!!! Contemporary theater historians describe John Proctor as a “strong beast of a man,” and... hhhHHOOOGH HELL YEAH!!! HELL !!!! YEAH !!!!! Like, his dick got almost his entire Puritan village, including himself, accused of witchcraft and like, looking at this guy, I kind of get it. I would probably go to war over the raw animal beauty of this horrible dirty, greasy man. Sue me, I confess. I saw Goody Osburn with the devil.

1. Thorin II Oakenshield in The Hobbit Trilogy  — 9.5/10

Come on. You knew it was going to be this guy. Look at my icon for christ’s sake. I am completely biased, I cannot look at his pictures objectively. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading, this was a very stupid list.

[connordavidscamera]

Best Friend vs Boyfriend! | CB

A/n: When I tell you I really love tis series, I mean it.

Summary: Connor vs. Violet. Who knows Harley better?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.5k

***

“Connor I just want you to know that I’m going to kick your ass at this.” Violet says, settling down on Harley’s right side. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Vi.”

“I’ve known her for basically our entire lives, you’ve been here a year and a half.”

“And I will be here for the rest of my life,” I counter seriously, ignoring the wide eyes Harley gives me. 

“Well so will I,” Vi nods once, also electing to ignore my statement. 

Harley looks between us, “Are you guys done?”

I lick my lips and nod, “Yes, lover. Sorry.”

“Okay,” she hands us both markers and white boards. I chuckle softly to myself, making a mental note to ask her why she has these later. “So I’ll tell you the rules when we start filming. But I have one rule and that’s this: do not kill each other. This is friendly. Right?” She looks at her best friend who rolls her eyes. 

“Fine. It’s friendly… but he’s still going down.”

I scoff, “Stop being so cocky. You may live with her, but I sleep with her.”

Harley squeals, “Connor David.”

I hold my hands up in defense. “Alright. I’m sorry. I’m done. You can start recording if you’re ready, baby.”

“Alright then.” She presses the record button on the tiny remote that’s programmed to her camera.

“Hey guys, we’re the Brashier’s and welcome back to our channel!” She says, waving with both hands. I throw up my signature three finger piece sign.

“So as I’m sure you’ve already read by the title, we are doing a boyfriend vs. best friend challenge. So everyone, this is my best friend in the entire world.”

“And no, she’s not talking about me,” Connor jokes, earing an eyeroll from me and a shove from Violet from behind my back.

“This is my best friend, Violet. We’ve known each other basically our whole lives and today we’re going to see if she knows me better. Or if this boy with fluffy hair knows me better.”

“Boy with fluffy hair? Excuse you, you love my fluffy hair.”

“I didn’t say that I didn’t.”

Violet fake gagged. “I get enough of this off camera, now I have to watch it on camera too.”

“Didn’t you say you were our first subscriber?” Harley asks. “Quit being a baby. Now, here are the rules.” She faces back toward the camera and I can’t help but smile, she’s so comfortable in front of it. She shines brighter than any star in the sky, and I’m lucky that she’s mine. “I’m going to ask a question and you two are going to write your answer on your whiteboards.” Again she faces the camera. “Yes, I do just have small whiteboards laying around, don’t come at me. “And for every question you get right you get a point.”

“What do I get when I win?” Vi asks.

“Bragging rights?” My girl shrugs.

“Lame, but I guess it’ll be fun to rub it in Connor’s face for the rest of forever.”

“You’re not gonna win,” I claim.

“We’ll see. Lee, what’s the first question?”

“Aright, first question is… what is one pet I’ve always wanted but my mom never let me have?”

The questions go on, and I only manage to get three out of the five questions she’s asked correct. Vi has gotten all five. I make a note to write all the correct answers down after the video is over just so I have them.

“Okay, before I started my channel and decided that makeup was probably what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, what job or career path was I going to take?”

“Like just what job it was or…”

“Just what did I want to be when I grew up?”

I scribble my answer down, my whiteboard turned away from both girls beside me.

“One, two, three.” Vi and I both turn our boards over and I glance at what she’s written. Same as me. Baker.

“Correct! Good job, guys. I wanted to be a baker. Not to brag,” she says to the camera, “but I do make some of the best brownies you’ve ever tasted.”

“She’s telling the truth,” I agree, erasing my board.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had one of her brownies,” Violet exclaims.

“Next question. What is my favorite candy?”

And my mind goes completely blank even though I know I know this answer.

“Come on bub, you know this. I ask for it every time I’m on my period. You know it.”

I rub my temples, “No, I know I do. I just can’t… no, wait. I have it! I have it!” I say when my brain finally clicks. I quickly write out my answer and turn it toward the camera when she says “one.”

I know I’m right, but I’m still relieved when she says so. It’s also the first question I get right that Vi doesn’t, which to me is a victory in itself.

“Where the heck did you get gummy bears?” Harley laughs, questioning her best friend.

“Because you get two bags ever time you go to the store!”

“Yes, one for you and one for Connor. They’re y’all’s favorite candy, not mine. I’ll only eat the green ones.”

I smile at that answer because it’s true. Every time, without fail, she’ll eat the green gummy bears I give her. Mostly because of all the flavors, that one is my least favorite. Her favorite candy is the cookies n cream Hershey’s. They’re far too sweet for me, but she loves them. Which is why I have a box of them in my pantry to satisfy her cravings when she’s over at my place.

“So these last two questions… I don’t think either of you are going to get them. And I absolutely don’t think I should put them in here, because people will come for me, but hey. Whatever.”

“Alright, so the question is: what is my favorite day or the year?”

I don’t know why she doesn’t want this question answered, but I shrug and write down what I think is correct. But both of us are wrong.

“No. What do you mean your favorite day of the year isn’t the first day of autumn? You are always so ready to put on your cozy sweaters and put on your fall scented candles. Are you aware of how many fall scented body sprays you have?” Vi says, taking with her hands.

Harley laughs, “I am well aware of how many body sprays I have. But that does not make it my favorite day.”

“Wait, what did Connor guess?” She looks over at my answer. “Okay, yeah. That’s wrong. You’d barely even acknowledge your birthday if we didn’t plan something for you every year.”

“Alright, well if it’s neither of these then what is it?” I ask, putting my board down.

Her face lights up. “Okay. We’re cutting the answer out of the video but it’s… bleep.”

I look down at my hands, a small blush on my cheeks too.

“Moving on,” she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and clears her throat. “Final question is: what is my favorite scent?”

I can’t help but smile watching the video back while I edit it. I look over at my girl beside me and she’s staring down at her phone, typing away in her comments. She catches my eye and smiles sheepishly. “What?”

“My birthday is really your favorite day?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but that doesn’t hide the blush that creeps on her cheeks again. “Yes,” she admits quietly. “It’s a full day to celebrate you. Why wouldn’t I want to do that?”

“And your favorite scent is my cologne?” I ask with a smirk.

“Look, it’s not my fault you smell good! Nor is it my fault that all I had while you were on tour was this hoodie that had your cologne sprayed all over it. It sooths me. You know that.”

“I didn’t actually. But it’s nice to hear.” I place my hand on the back of her neck and bring her forward to press a kiss to her lips. “And just so you know… my favorite scent is your shampoo,” I mumble against the soft skin of her cheek before pressing a kiss there too.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that one out a while ago.”

“What? How?”

“Well, we have a bottle of your shampoo and body wash in our bathroom, for when you stay over, but you still always use mine when you shower here.”

I shrug, “What can I say? I like having a part of you at my lonely, lonely place.”

“What? Having half of my wardrobe there isn’t enough?”

“Watch it, baby Brash. Might have to punish you for talking back.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” she teases, tugging lightly on the ends of my hair.

“You will be,” I promise, ending the conversation with a light suck of the soft skin on her neck.

***

I hope you enjoyed!! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

Permanent tag: @soyalimoncada-blog @tinycertain @magcon7280 @daisyangei @fallinallincurls @lovewithanattitude @sinceweremutual @myyohmyuohmyy @perfectly-mendess @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @baroness-alison @lostinmendess @linanilssonfurberg @luvluvxx @mariamuses @shawnieeboyy @divinginfearlessly @mendesficsxbombay @shawnsthighs @zaahidahhh @adelaidestreets @shawnandconnor 

NSBB: @shawnsblue

* bold wouldn’t let me tag

** if you want to be added or removed from any list (permanent, Shawn, Connor,  We Were Us, or Not So Brash Brashier’s) just let me know

[et-lesailes]

lily white in blood red // chapter two

prologue | chapter one

pairing: curtis everett x reader

word count: 2100

series summary: you are a part of the upper-middle section aboard snowpiercer, but you do not agree with the classist views of the people you are surrounded by. when the infamous curtis everett reaches your part of the train, you decide you want to join him in overthrowing the train’s misguided inventor– while curtis agrees to let you join, he has other plans in mind.

series themes: angst, romance, obsession, fighting/bloodshed, smut

chapter summary: day one is over, and it’s been surprisingly calm and smooth. however, now night one is beginning, and while curtis may be able to behave then, the next morning is a different story.

chapter themes: mentions of sex, masturbation, a little bit of curtis’ obsession beginning to come out :))

taglist: added in reblog!

notes: feedback is always, always appreciated  ♡

“So. What the hell’s that all about?”

Curtis watches as Edgar gestures towards you, fast asleep. Your first twenty-four hours with the team has passed, and so far, no bloodshed. Not yet, anyways. You’re sure you’ll come across forces eventually, but Yona had explained to you that each day, each cart was always different. 

“What’s what about?” Curtis asks, though his blues are focused on you, watching your frame lightly moving up and down as you breathe and your hair fanned out behind your head on his folded up jacket as a makeshift pillow. He wishes you all could have found a sleeping quarters so you could have a proper bed, but he was pleased that you did not complain at all. 

Edgar looks at him in disbelief, clearly thinking his friend’s gone crazy. “Look, Curtis, I can understand sparing her life. Seems like a sweet girl, definitely beyond fit, but bringing her with us? She’s just-- I don’t know, extra weight we don’t need, especially if ya aren’t even going to let her fight. What’s the point?” Curtis sighs deeply, taking his beanie off his head to run his hands through his hair. “Leave it alone, Edgar.” He simply warns; to be honest, he would have no problem answering any of the boy’s questions, but he truly does not even know the answer to this one. Not the full one, anyways. He knows that for some reason, he needs to protect you, but why? Not a clue. He does not need Edgar to think him even crazier than he already does. 

The boy who has come to be a little brother to him looks at him somewhat irritated before standing up from his sitting position leaned against the wall of the cart. “Whatever, mate. But if that girl holds us back, it’s on you.” He speaks bluntly, though not appearing to be fully mad or upset-- Curtis knows well by now that he’s simply straightforward by nature. “Get some sleep, Edgar.” He says in response, putting his beanie back on though remaining seated. “It’s been a long day. We'll talk about this later.” The younger reluctantly gets up, giving Curtis one last look before walking away, heading over to a spot near Tanya to settle himself as comfortably as he can on the floor. 

Curtis waits until the blond drifts off before standing up, approaching your sleeping figure. Slowly crouching down by your side, he wraps his jacket more tightly around you, ignoring how much significantly colder he is without it. Some carts of the train are well heated, and some are not. Of course, the tail section was the latter, but by the section you are all in, most cars are quite warm-- this one seems to be the exception, seeing as it's just for the purpose of storage, shelves lining the walls. Unfortunately, there were no extra blankets or clothes among said storage.

He strokes your hair gently as he studies the peaceful expression upon your face, marveling again at your smooth, clear skin. He allows his fingertips to brush against your cheek gently, then almost feels bad for doing so. He is dirty, soiled, tainted-- especially in comparison to the ethereal figure that is you. However, when he pulls back, your eyes open as if immediately noticing the absence. He blinks, then frowns. "I didn't mean to wake you." He tells you quietly, and you look at him for a few moments; even though he is still wearing a rather thick sweater, he somehow looks different, maybe even more vulnerable without his coat on. "Come lie down," you whisper in response, slowly turning so that you are facing him. The floor is not very comfortable, especially not when compared to the bed you were used to, but you can accept that it's all you have right now. They had explained to you that it simply wasn't possible to be able to find sleeping compartments every single night, and that made sense to you. It was dangerous to advance too far in one go, especially when Wilford seemed to already know about the revolution.

"Next to you?" he asks lowly, and you see surprise in his features for the first time-- scratch that, an emotion in his features for the first time. You nod your head slowly, biting on your lip as you lift up the jacket. "This is big," you say softly, giving him an encouraging look. "We can find a way to share.... or at least give each other warmth..." 

He feels something in that moment, but he can't quite place what it is. He does not argue or protest, but instead slowly lies himself down beside you. You are laying on your side facing him, your hand moving to divide the "blanket" as equally as possible; however, before you are even done, he pulls you close to his body with a strong arm, your cheeks almost instantly becoming a shade of pink as you feel yourself pressed against his broad figure. “Night.” He mutters lowly near your ear, making you shiver slightly. You aren’t sure how this feels so good, why it makes every single night you had before this one suddenly seem much emptier and more depressing. “Goodnight, Curtis,” you whisper, unbeknownst to how the mere mention of his name upon your silky voice makes his entire being palpitate. 

He’d like to say this is the first time he’s ever slept soundly ever since boarding Snowpiercer, but quite honestly, he had learned a long time ago to become accustomed to the tail section at night. Despite the poor and terrible conditions, his body had adapted, and he had eventually become more submissive to sleep as the years went on, even in such uncomfortable “beds”. 

However, this is the first time in a long, long time that he’s woken up with this feeling, a feeling he cannot even describe. Has he even had it before? He’s not sure. 

It’s hard to tell the time, especially because this cart has no windows, but if he had to guess based on his biological clock, it seems to be early, early morning. Perhaps four? Five? The others are still asleep, exhausted from the previous day-- including you. Sleep shaded blue eyes inspect your figure as he’s spooning you, first checking to make sure you are not too cold. He still has you held tightly against his body, practically trying to both physically and mentally force all of his body warmth upon your own. You are more covered by the jacket than he is, but he still sees your bare shoulder underneath him, the strap of your nightie having slightly slid down. Fuck. He really wasn’t thinking when he made you wear that, he should have remembered that some parts of the train would still be cold. He supposes he had been too focused on arriving to the front section, even parading through the middle section, where heat would be a concept of convention rather than one of rarity. He pulls you even closer, letting out a gruff but soft exhale. You smell good, unlike, well, pretty much everyone he knows. He can’t imagine he smells any better than them, but you don’t seem to shy away from him, both when conscious and slipped away in dreamland. 

He lets himself appreciate your figure a little more. It’s as though you fit perfectly into his body. He admires your shiny, washed locks fanned out behind your head, some close to tickling his nose if he were to move his own head ever-so-slightly. He loves how smooth your skin looks and feels, how silky the nightie feels under his fingertips as he grazes over your stomach; it seemed like a simple matter, but this is a texture he hasn’t felt in years, and it is comforting. Much more pleasant than his rough, dirty coat or crappy tweed blankets back in the tail section. 

He can’t help but slowly let his fingers drift underneath the material, dancing them lightly along your bare abdomen. Shit. He’s already getting hard, and he has to wonder what the hell he’s doing. This isn’t the reason why he brought you along. No, you’re so much more than this. But as the bulge in his somewhat misfit pants tightens, only pressing against the soft curves of your ass that are far more revealed thanks to his hand riding your nightie up, he’s losing his sense of mind. He’s breathing heavier now, but trying his hardest to keep it as inaudible as possible, which is only even more exhausting. Barely craning his neck to look at your face, he sees you are still fast asleep despite his slight shifting and the incredibly intrusive addition pressing against your lower body. He can’t help but get into his imagination a little. How would you react if you felt it, if you saw it? He barely groans to himself thinking of those wide, innocent eyes, those parted lips making a perfect ‘o’ shape, those delicate hands pumping him and slowly sending him over the edge…

He realizes he’s rubbing himself against you now, and he stops with another low and frustrated groan. As much as he’d like to get some type of release, he definitely can’t inside his pants, considering they’re the only pair he has. For fuck’s sake, he hasn’t done this in God knows how long. Yes, it was difficult for a man to be deprived, but when it had been over the span of a couple decades, it eventually became normalcy. Arousal was the last possible thing he could feel while inhabiting the tail section. 

He carefully shifts to lie on his back, now appreciative of how dark this cart is. Still, he keeps a part of the hefty jacket draped over his bulge, now reaching his hand down into his pants to take it out. He hisses quietly to himself as he starts rubbing, his palm sweaty from his thoughts, from the situation, from the sight of your perfect frame next to him. He imagines you straddling him at this exact moment, picturing how perfect you would look gazing down at him, your legs on either side of his hips and your ass nestled comfortably upon his thighs. He thinks of you riding him, still wearing that damn skimpy nightie, straps sliding down your shoulders and teasing him with a partial view of your bouncing breasts, your cheeks pink from pleasure and your moans sounding through the entire front section. He pictures you gasping with delight while coming all over his cock, your chest heaving from being so breathless, so worn out from him and only him. 

A grunt, low groan, and another hiss. He comes, and he’s panting quietly, almost immediately looking around to make sure nobody witnessed this. Thankfully, everyone’s still asleep.

He’s about to use the jacket to wipe off the rest of the remains from his length, but pauses. Looking towards you, he can’t help but hum thoughtfully. He had known from the start he never wanted you tainted. You are something he could never previously have on the train, you are purity itself. 

However, what if he was the one who managed your innocence? If it were in his hands, he would make sure you would never get hurt. He could take it from you, but no one else could. That would be far too dangerous. If your innocence were in his hands, he could protect you and have you. 

He taps his thumb lightly upon the tip of his cock, letting a hint of white adorn his skin. Leaning over, he admires your sleeping face once more before slowly swiping his thumb across your lips, humming lowly as he watches you barely smack them in your sleep at the contact. “Does that taste good, sweetheart?” he mutters quietly, tilting his head. “It wasn’t a lot. I don’t want you to wake up, so the taste can’t be too strong.. For now. We’ll get there one day.” He promises, his voice barely above a husky whisper. 

Wiping the rest off with the jacket, not really giving a shit considering how grubby it is anyways, he fixes his pants before resuming the same position as before, arm wrapped tightly around you. You stir, only just now realizing that there had been an absence to begin with. “Curtis?” you let out a soft mumble, half asleep, and he swears he is already turned on again. “I’m here,” he murmurs, moving to rest his head on top of your own. “Sleep. It’s going to be a long day, you’ll need your energy.”

[bubmyg]

idcilh (1) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, sickening fluff, overuse of bucket hat jokes

word count: 1,469

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges (cheesy old thumbnails and all). episode one: buying each other outfits or “jeongguk, that entire bag better not be filled with bucket hats.”

a/n: this series will be in tandem with my already existing youtuber!guk series!! nonchronological but all the same universe!! aka it’s the same stupidly cute couple :-)

“Are you coming back home anytime soon or…”

You balanced the phone between your shoulder and your ear, stretching the baby pink hoodie out in front of you. “Why, are we supposed to be doing something today?”

“Baby,” Jeongguk full on whined through the speaker followed by a breathy giggle, “You know, I can help you out. I’ve really been wanting that leather jacket from—”

“Nope, that’s not how this works,” You checked that the hoodie was his size before folding it into your basket, “If it was, I would have just banned you from buying bucket hats all together.”

He was silent for the time it took you to navigate for the register, softly mumbling, “But you look cute in them.”

You laughed, juggling the items in your hands to fish out your credit card, “Okay, bubs. I’m paying now. Can you manage the tripod without me?”

“You know that play fight you talked me out of this morning after you stole my last bit of nutella? It’s no mercy when you get home.”

“Right, Guk. Leave the tripod for me, I’ll fix it before we start filming.”

“...whatever, love you, bye.”

You swung two, overflowing plastic bags into his lap with a beaming grin. “Are you excited to see what I bought you?”

Jeongguk regarded you with a quirked eyebrow, hands keeping the bags in place as he leaned for a peck on your lips, “Easy there, we haven’t even done the intro yet.”

“They’ve seen the title and thumbnail at this point,” You waved your hand absently, “This is also like, a four year old challenge so—”

“That’s the whole point in the series.”

You faked a gasp, “Really?”

A reprimanding peck on your cheek was in order with an extra reward to the opposite cheek before he leaned away. Cupped palms patted the bags in his lap, squinting at the lumps as he placed them on the table in front of you, “Did you buy me things I’ll actually wear or…”

“I don’t know,” You nudged his thigh, staring at the various bags surrounding your legs, “Did you buy me more than just—”

Another whine, another giggle, “You’ve made that joke like four times off camera, it’s not funny anymore.”

“You laughed.”

“Pity.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

Jeongguk’s bottom lip pouted, top lip wrinkling, bridge of his nose scrunching. “I can’t say if you’re right or wrong, it’d give away the whole video.”

You grinned harder, holding your forearms out palm up, “My first outfit then, please.”

The fond smile ghosting his lips only disappeared because he had to turn to fish inside one of the bags, shaking his head the entire time. Soft brown hair bobbed when he reappeared with lumps on lumps of black fabric splayed messily across his thighs.

“So firstly, you’re a thief and steal my stuff all the time, so—” He stretched the first item up, a generic black hoodie that he had seventeen of, “—I bought you one so I can have a laundry day to get mine clean for you.”

You took the item from him, sighing, “Really, Guk?”

“—and, since this is outfits—” A pair of sweatpants landed in your lap next, light grey and his size. “Pants to go with it.”

“So you’re trying to make me into you, basically.”

Jeongguk swatted at your ass when you stood with the items hugged to your chest. “Go change and then I’ll give you the last part of it.”

“As if I don’t know what that is—”

“Weird, suddenly I can’t hear you…”

You returned, sweatpants tied and purposeful sweater paws made with the hoodie. The warmth wasn’t the same as tugging some of his off hangers in the closet, his scent and endearing stains gone from the brand new clothing adorning you. You told him the same sentiment when you plopped in beside him.

“I’ll wear the once for you,” Jeongguk conceded, a giddy smile on his lips as he adjusted the strings around your front and fiddled at the hood until it laid properly. He cooed at you, hands nudging underneath your jaw until you swatted at him, ducking away.

“Stop it, give me the last part of this outfit.”

An audible giggle tumbled out of his throat, a short and single syllable as he leaned over the side of the couch, fishing in a completely separate bag. You barely blinked and there was something shadowing your features, wide brimmed and flopped against the sides of your head as a succession of numerous, high pitched giggles spilled from Jeongguk’s lips.

You shut your eyes as he clapped his hands together, “Jeongguk, that entire bag better not be filled with bucket hats.”

He hummed, “See, I told you that you look cute.”

A single eye squinted at him as he leaned to you again, tucking a curled index finger under the front of the hat to lift it. You opened both eyes then, glaring and pouting at him all the same as he laughed again, a half a beat softer, tender in nature. His finger kept the hat aside, shifting until his lips could press to yours for a dozen seconds longer than could be considered a peck.

“Cute,” Jeongguk mused again, spoken against your bottom lip and he couldn’t resist another peck.

“Stop,” You pushed at his shoulder when his affections trailed down your jaw, “You’re just making more editing work for yourself. And the camera is dying.”

Pointedly, his hands fist into the oversized hoodie at your front, tugging at you until you were half astride his thigh, hat falling from your head where he plucked it aside. “Don’t care,” He kissed hard into the seam of your lips, hands nudging underneath the hem of the hoodie to find bare skin, “Wanna kiss you. You look too cute.”

You watched him step behind the camera with your arms folded over your chest, observing the camera until the light flickered off. Pastel pink suited the flush on his cheeks, light wash, ripped jeans hugging the flex of his thighs as he stepped around various discarded clothing items to meet you back at the couch.

“Can you hand me that black hoodie again?”

His final outfit that wasn’t really an outfit for you had been a “new piece of merch”, a tank top with his face encompassing the entire front half. You didn’t care to ask where he’d gotten it, how long he’d waited for it, or how he’d managed to hide it from you, instead preoccupied with the goosebumps that littered the length of your arms.

Jeongguk didn’t hand it to you, instead stretching the bottom out around his knuckles as he aided it over your head, situating it until it fell across your hips. “Here…” He twisted, snatching the army green bucket hat he’d purchased for an outfit he’d deemed the invisibility cloak (“You really bought me head to toe camouflage, huh?”), gently placing the fabric atop your head. “This will keep you warm, too.”

You smiled at each other, content and quiet for a handful of heartbeats before he was opening his arms. You crawled for him, settling your cheek against soft pink, wrapping your arms around his waist as his chin settled on top of the mop of fabric on the crown of your head.

“Pink is your color,” You mused, thumbing at the fabric over his heartbeat. “I’ll buy you yellow next time…”

A noncommittal hum rumbled against your ear, “What about purple?”

“I’ll buy you whatever color you want.”

Jeongguk slipped a palm to your bare hip, thumb rubbing circles into your skin as his cheek pressed to the base of your hat, “I’ll wear this hoodie on one condition.”

“Hmm, what’s that?”

“You wear it for me a couple times. So it smells like you. Or whatever.”

You sat up, hands on his chest, “We can just switch hoodies for a few days then.”

His hands on your waist trailed upward, pooling the fabric around his wrists as he went, eyebrow cocked as you glowered at him the higher he got. “Can we wear them to dinner later?”

“We can,” You paused when Jeongguk’s hands stalled at your ribs, “...do you want me to wear one of the hats too? You can wear one of yours and—”

You braced your hands on the apex of his elbows, leaning in search of his lips. The brim of your hat bumped against the bridge of his nose but he only winced a little bit, seeking out the press of your mouth while warm palms slid back down to your hips.

Something celestial sparkled in his doe eyes when he plucked the edge of the hat between his thumb and index finger, peeling it away enough to grin hopefully, “—we can match?”

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part two) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part two: Jo picks up Y/N from the airport and doesn’t waste any time warning the intern for a notorious wrangler called Dean Winchester. When she arrives at Gold Canyon Ranch, she soon understands why. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Broken Halos’ - Chris Stapleton (car scene) and ‘No Good’ - Kaleo (saloon entry). (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     It stops raining just as suddenly as it started coming down, but the asphalt in front of the airport entrance still shimmers under the streetlights. Knowing that it's going to take at least forty-five minutes for her ride to arrive, Y/N treated herself to a cup of coffee from Starbucks, which she sips on while seated on her suitcase. Whenever a set of headlights approaches, she looks up hopefully, but up to now, all cars have passed by. With a bored sigh, she tucks her flat-ironed hair behind her ear and yawns, despite the caffeine she’s consuming.      She checks her phone again. “Come on, already…”

     When she looks up from the device, a black pickup pulls up to the curb. It triggers her to straighten her back and seek eye contact with the driver. As the car comes to a stop, a young woman has turned to look outside her downed passenger window.      “Are you Y/N?”      “Yes,” she responds a bit hesitantly as she rises.      The driver grins and signals her to come closer. “Well, get in. I ain’t got all night!” 

     Y/N smiles back somewhat nervously, draws out the grip of her suitcase and rolls it to the side of the car. With difficulty, she manages to push the heavy load in the open cargo area, making sure not to scratch the paint or spill her coffee, after which she hastens to the passenger-door and gets in. Before she settles down, Jo picks up her ivory white cowboy hat from the seat and puts it down behind her, offering her passenger a place to sit. As she does so and closes the door, the driver holds out her hand. Y/N shakes it, surprised by the strength of the young woman’s grip.      “Jo Singer,” she introduces herself. “Welcome on the Gold Canyon Ranch Express.”

     While Jo steers the car back on the road, Y/N takes her in. She’s slender, not very tall, but the confidence she radiates makes up for that. She’s rocking the ripped jeans and western boots, a comfortable loosely knitted sweater covers the skin that her tank-top doesn’t. The young woman has plaited her hair in a messy braid which falls down from her left shoulder. With one hand at twelve o’clock on the wheel and the other casually hanging outside the door, she averts her focus from the road for a brief second, turning to her passenger.

     “Sorry ‘bout the wait. Cattle just came in and Dad got a little caught up. He gets that way sometimes,” Jo apologizes as she lowers the volume of the radio.      “That’s okay,” Y/N assures, holding up her coffee. “I had company.”      “What is that, by the way? Do I smell cinnamon?” Jo eyes the coffee container as if it’s alien.      “It’s a Cinnamon Dolce Latte,” Y/N states before taking a sip.      “A what now?”      Registering Jo’s expression, she sniggers. “Cinnamon, coffee, and milk, basically.”      “Fancy.” The driver grins. “You’re from up north, right?”      “Yeah. Freeport, Maine,” she elaborates. “It’s quite a change of scenery.”      “I’ll bet,” the cowgirl behind the wheel reckons. “Ya’ll have pretty cold winters over there, huh?”

     Curiously, the new girl looks over at Jo. The Southern charm in her voice is rich. Her accent has a lot more soul to it than the ones she picked up in the arrival hall and the coffee place back at the airport. Not even the local taxi drivers who were chatting as they waited for a ride sounded like Jo. 

     “Yeah.” Y/N nods, answering the question after a beat. “Lots of snow too.”      “You won’t ever be cold in Arizona, I can promise ya that, Yankee.”      Y/N chuckles. “Yankee?”      “That’s what us Southerners call Northerners,” she explains. “Better get used to it.”      “I thought Arizona was considered the Southwest,” the intern says.      Now it’s Jo’s turn to smirk, as she gives her a side-eye. “Aren’t you as smart as all get out? But you’re right. My folks are from the South. The ranch belonged to my grandpa back in the day. When he got too old to work the land, Mom and Dad moved in to help and took over when he passed. I was born and raised here in Gold Canyon, but what can I say? It’s hard to lose the slang when you’re around a bunch of Southerners.”

     Jo continues to make small talk. Y/N doesn’t mind it, though. It’s nice to get to know the ranch owner’s daughter and at least there’s not an awkward silence dwelling in the old pickup. Easy conversation about the weather is soon traded for other subjects, like the ranch and the horses.      “Dad mentioned you’re a reining rider. What level are ya?” Jo asks.      “Debuted in Open a couple of months ago.”

     She tries to stay modest, but a proud smile forms on Y/N’s lips anyway. Hours of practice and years of training have brought her to the highest level in reining sport. When the letter from the National Reining Horse Association came in to inform her of the promotion from Non-Pro to Open, she remembered being so excited that she ran through the house screaming high pitched and hugged her parents so tight, she almost suffocated them. It took hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but she made it. It all paid off.

     “Whoa, you must be pretty damn good then!” Jo responds, eyebrows raised, impressed.      Y/N doesn’t really respond, not sure how to take the compliment. Instead, she looks down at the coffee container in her lap. “What about you?”      “I’m not a reiner,” the cowgirl smiles. “I race barrel.”

     Now, it’s Y/N’s turn to be fascinated. Surely, reining is an exciting discipline of horse riding, but barrel racing is a whole other ballgame. She always enjoys watching it at the rodeo. The speed, the acceleration, the tight corners around the barrels, beating the clock, every fraction of a second counting; it’s the definition of thrilling.

     “What’s your PR?” she wonders.      Jo looks at her sideways, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “16.1 seconds.”      Y/N huffs, amazed. “That’s fast!”      The ranch owner’s daughter shrugs it off. “I’ve got a very good horse.”      “My grandfather taught me that a  horse will never become extraordinary unless it’s matched with a skilled rider.”    Jo smiles at those wise words and gazes at the road ahead.

     The beams of the headlights reach out several yards in front of them. Everything beyond remains in the darkness of night. Although the rain stopped falling down on the dry and thirsty land, clouds still shield out the frail moon’s radiance. They left Metro Phoenix about ten minutes ago and Y/N can barely see what’s out there, but what she can see, captivates her. For a girl who has never been to the southwest of the US, it seems foreign, not from this planet even. A pair of tail lights glides down the straight two-lane freeway towards an invisible horizon, while a few lights on the mountains give an idea of the relief in the east. Dust, sand, and rocks alongside the road are all that she can make out, joined with tall cacti and small bushes every now and then. This is the first time she has seen a cactus in its natural habitat. She didn’t know they could grow that tall.

     “You should stay away from those when you go on a trail, especially the little fluffy lookin’ ones,” Jo suggests, noticing her passenger’s amazement as she watches the cacti pass by. “There’s nothing fluffy about the damn things when you get too close. I’ve seen the most gentle and laid back horses go full bronc after running their ass into a ‘cholla’.”      Y/N chuckles; she can imagine that happening. Appreciating the tip, she turns her attention back to the driver.      “Any other good advice for my first day tomorrow?” She dares to ask, curious about what lies ahead.      Jo smiles at her, appreciating her eagerness. The girl beside her isn’t the first rookie to ask her this. To her, it’s a sign of insecurity, one that comes along with the lack of experience.

     “You didn’t do a lot of ranch work back in Maine, did ya?” she confronts.      Out of balance, Y/N looks aside at the driver, then averts her gaze. The gentle expression on Jo’s face should tell her that she doesn’t intend to make her feel uncomfortable, but she can’t help herself from moving in her seat a little, lost for words.      “How can you tell?” she replies shyly.      “Your boots are too clean,” Jo grins, nodding at the intern’s feet.

     Somewhat stunned, Y/N looks down at her shoes. Wanting to make a good impression, she polished the brown leather. Honestly, she spent more time cleaning them than she normally would before a show, but it might have been a better idea to leave them dirty. A blush warms her cheeks as she shakes her head slightly; apparently, she’s a little too eager to prove herself.

     “You got me,” she admits. “You’re right, I lack experience when it comes to stable work. But I really want to learn.”      Thankfully, Jo takes away the embarrassment and seems to appreciate her enthusiasm.      “Don’t worry about it. We had workers who didn’t even know how to pick out a hoof, let alone ride a horse,” she reassures. “You’ll be fine. Keep your eyes and ears open, your head low and if there’s anything you need, you can always come to me.”

     Slightly put to ease, Y/N smiles at her shiny boots. Jo is right; she will be okay. There is no need to be nervous about tomorrow, she’s not completely oblivious after all. And with the ranch owner’s daughter as her new ally, she feels confident enough to believe that she will manage just fine.

     A moment of quietness follows as the young blonde takes the exit and directs the pickup onto Superstition Mountain Drive, leaving route 60 behind them. Soft music comes from the amplifiers, a country ballad bathing them in pleasant tunes. Despite her insecurities, Y/N feels comfortable with Jo by her side, and as she glances over at her, a future image of them becoming friends forms in her head. It doesn’t seem unlikely, not at all. Her wit, her confidence, the joy that she seems to have in everything she does; she can appreciate that.

     “There is one other piece of good advice I’m gonna give ya,” Jo continues after a while. “And it’s very, very important that you stick to it.”      Curious, Y/N waits for a follow-up, eager eyes on the blonde cowgirl in the driver’s seat who waits a couple more seconds, underlining the importance of her message.      “Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Dean Winchester.”

     A little underwhelmed, Y/N’s facial expression shifts from confused to amused. She scoffs, for a second thinking she’s joking. Jo’s dramatic build-up prepared for a line she was going to remember during the tough moments while staying at the ranch, so it’s a bit of a downer when it resulted in advice on men.

     “Who’s Dean Winchester?” she asks, unimpressed.      “He’s a wrangler at the ranch,” Jo enlightens her. “Also a shameless womanizer who has broken more hearts than I can count. That bastard lures gals into his bed like it’s a fucking competition. Or in the haystack, his truck, the restroom of the saloon. Whatever place he finds fit to hump somethin’.”

     Y/N’s jaw drops, after which she covers her mouth to muffle her chuckle. And ten minutes ago they were talking about the weather. Well, that escalated quickly.      “I’m serious,” Jo underlines, noticing the cynicism in her passenger’s laugh.      “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not what I’m here for,” she assures the ranch owner’s daughter.      “That’s what most of them say,” she returns, having heard this before.

     For a second Y/N observes her co-driver as questions start to buzz around in her head. What are Jo’s motives? Might there be something more behind what seems like just good advice?      “Did you…? Did you ever, you know…?”      Insecurity overwhelms her once again, disabling her to form a proper sentence. A little confused, Jo looks over, but at the sight of Y/N’s raised eyebrow and a subtle smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, it suddenly dawns on her what she’s getting at.      “What?! Oh, hell no!” She shudders in disgust. “Christ! He’s my cousin!”

     Y/N eyes grow large when she realizes what she just implied, but then Jo snorts and they both burst out in laughter. How this conversation went from climate and desert flora to sex and men puzzles her completely, but she’s sure that she just gained a friend. When both of them can talk again after another convulsion of giggles, Y/N can’t help but wonder about this wrangler with a reputation.

     “What’s so special about this Dean?”      Jo wipes away tears that came running down her face in the uncontrollable laughing fit she endured. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

     She switches on the turning signal and turns left onto a long driveway. Fenced pastures stretch out on either side, running up towards the hills. Cows are chewing their roughage at the hayracks, but look up when the headlights of the Chevrolet captures them briefly as the car passes. Up ahead, a wooden sign arches over the road. ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ it says in bold capital letters. The pickup surfaces from underneath the sign and proceeds up the driveway, which fans out into a square. In front of a house - which is built from sandstone and has a red-tiled roof - Jo parks the car and turns off the ignition.

     Amazed by the setting, Y/N gets out of the truck and takes it in. Several buildings, all in the same architectural style, surround the square as well. The soft and easing sounds of horses rummaging around in their stables originate from a large barn to the right of the family home. Then there’s that familiar and soothing smell of the farm, although the scent that’s reaching her senses now is sharper, more earthy than she’s used to up in Maine. Then another sound draws her attention; the sound of a cheerful crowd and country songs. Y/N looks over the top of the Chevrolet and watches Jo walk over to a building complex at the other end of the square.

     “Leave your suitcase. Let’s fix us a drink first.” She hints at the saloon, from where the music is coming. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the bunch.”      Y/N follows in a fast stride, forking her fingers through her hair and straightening it out quickly, then she tucks her checkered blouse into her jeans, even though she just decided that she was going to leave it hanging over her belt. This is ridiculous, she scolds at herself. Why are you so nervous?

     She doesn’t have time to think about it, because when she’s about to catch up with Jo, the blonde swings open the double doors and makes her entrance. The musk of hard work mixed with beer and nicotine welcomes her, mingling with the lingering heat of the day. The music shifts to a new song, the guitars and a strong beat sounding through the space. Burning stares come her way as they walk into the saloon, making her feel like she got stuck in an old spaghetti western starring Clint Eastwood. Where is that cowboy to save her now?

     “Look what I found out in the rain,” Jo jokes, casually putting an arm around Y/N’s neck. “Our Yankee!”      Cheers rise from the group of men, glad that they made it back. Half-empty beer bottles litter the wooden surface of the table they are seated at; it’s clear that the party has been going for a while now, eyes getting hazy and laughs roaring louder. It’s a good thing that Jo basically drags her inside, because if she had been on her own, she would have frozen on the spot.

     A middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair steps from behind the counter to meet them halfway. With a dish towel hanging over her shoulder, she approaches the new face, smiling genuinely.      “Y/N, this is my mom,” Jo introduces.      “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Singer,” Y/N greets, humble, remembering her name from the email exchanges they had to arrange her internship.      “Please, call me Ellen. Welcome. Make yourself at home, honey,” she says as her husband flanks her.      “And this is my old man.” Jo pats him on the back, triggering a mutter.      “I’m not that old,” he states, redirecting his attention to the new guest. “I’m Bobby. Nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout the delay.”      “Oh, that’s alright,” Y/N smiles back at him, starting to feel more at ease.

     The family seems really nice, but the group of men - which Y/N assumes is the ranch crew - still curiously lurks at her. Intimidated, she lets her eyes roam through the bar, trying not to stare. At home she had her brothers to back her up, their presence alone usually enough for guys to take a step back. But yet again she becomes painfully aware of the fact that she is on her own this time.

     Her eyes glide over the workers and wranglers. At the far end of the table, a guy - who she guesses to be in his late twenties - looks back at her from under his cowboy hat. He has two poker cards in one hand and nurses a bottle of beer with the other, resting his strong forearms on the edge of the wood. Emerald green eyes seem to read her like an open book, taking her in with enough confidence in his expression to compensate for what she lacks. He puts his lips against the mouth of his beer bottle and takes a swig, slowly, without breaking eye contact. Did he really take his time or did her mind just process that in slow-motion? Suddenly aware that she’s staring, Y/N looks away and focuses on Jo again, who has continued the introduction.

     “This is Ash, one of our wranglers and in charge of the cattle. Don’t let the hair fool ya, he’s a pretty swell guy under all the craziness.” She walks behind him, peeking into his cards. “Wow, you really just raised with a two and a three?”      The guy next to Ash shoves two piles of chips forward, flashing the bluffer a big grin. Jo has settled between the two men, smirking at Ash’s annoyed face. Resting her folded arm on his shoulder, she turns her head and now puts a hand on her neighbor’s back.      “Benny Lafitte. Best farrier in Arizona. Also, a master on the ground when it comes to starting young horses.”      The man with a nicely trimmed beard tips his hat at Y/N, observing her with his blue eyes for a second before the ranch owner’s daughter moves on.      “Over yonder is Garth. Wrangler and our man in the stables.” She nods at the fragile built guy with dark hair, who shyly looks up and greets the newcomer. “He’s harmless, great mounted shooter by the way.”

     Jo straightens her back and folds her arms in front of her chest as she turns to her cousin. He doesn’t look back, though. His eyes haven’t left the new face, who forces herself to meet his gaze. After everything that Jo told her about this guy, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being the spectator for her discomfort and shyness. But my God, she gets why the girls swoon by the sight of him. He has great features, a few days old scruff adding to his strong jawline. Broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his jacket, his strong fingers running slowly up and down the smooth glass of the bottle. He looks like he just walked out of a Marlboro commercial, western hat and all.      “And this is Dean,” Jo states simply, observing them both.      As the guy in question takes another swig of his drink, he finally tears his eyes away from Y/N. The weight that was pressing on her chest is lifted and instantly she finds it easier to breathe.      “What? No catchy intro for me?” he asks Jo. “Now, I know it’s hard to describe a man like me with words--”      “Oh, I already described you just fine, Winchester,” she returns impudently. “Every girl about to encounter you deserves a fair warning.”

     Dean raises his eyebrows at that remark, not sure how to interpret the remark. His eyes flick back to Y/N again, startling her. She must have flinched, because her reaction ignites a grin.      “You know us now, but what’s your name?” Dean asks, even though he is already aware.      Pushing her self-consciousness out of the way, she speaks as clear as she can, not just addressing him, but the entire crew. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you all.”

     When their gazes lock again, the cowboy’s smile grows a little wider and he flashes her a short and subtle wink. It’s close to unnoticeable, had she blinked she would’ve missed it, but she caught it, alright. 

     “Your turn, brother,” Benny calls for his attention on the game.      Dean glances down at his cards once more. A pair of queens; surely he’s going along with the raise, but he doesn’t want to be obvious about his good hand. He shoves two stacks of chips forward to meet the stakes and waits for his friend’s response. Translating his expressions and possible tells, the blue-eyed wrangler stares back at him while dealer Garth unfolds the final card; a queen of hearts. Benny seems to ponder, but Dean doesn’t give him an inch. 

     The farrier throws in five more chips. “I raise with five hundred.”      “One thousand,” Dean counters.      Benny chuckles. He’s got to be bluffing, right?      “Fine,” he agrees, adding five more to the pot as he throws down his cards on the table for his opponent to see. “A pair of Aces.”

     A good hand indeed, but not good enough to win. Dean bites his lip, looks down at his cards, then back at the young woman that caught his eye. This time she’s prepared; Y/N doesn’t look away. All she does is stare back into those green orbs, standing her ground. Before it becomes obvious to the others in their company, Dean averts his gaze first. For Y/N it feels like a big win in this strange staring contest that started from the moment she walked in. The hand that Dean lays out on the table is his victory. Three of a kind just won him over three thousand chips. Interesting, how a queen of hearts in the last draw is the key to winning this game of cards.

     “Well, shit!” Benny laughs, leaning back in his seat and admitting his defeat. “Guess the next round’s on me then.”      “Let me pour you a drink, sweety,” Ellen suggests, bumping her shoulder into Y/N lightly. “You can use one after all that traveling.”

     A heavy breath falls from her lips as she joins the ranch owner’s wife at the bar. Ellen isn’t wrong. Boy, she needs a drink, but not because of the long flight. The attention from Dean, him looking at her like he did; it’s unlike any attention she has ever received. It felt exciting and suffocating at the same time. Unable to truly understand what she is experiencing right now, Y/N thinks about what Jo said. The words she spoke in the car are starting to make sense now. The way this man has a grip on her since the moment she laid eyes on him, throws her off. He shouldn’t be having that effect on her, she’s not that kind of girl, after all. She’s the kind that keeps her eye on the ball and doesn’t let anything distract her. And if guys would try? She would give them a run for their money. With three brothers, Y/N learned to stand her ground in order to compete with her siblings. She developed a smart mouth and isn’t easily intimidated by men. But somehow all the lessons learned flew right out the window the moment Dean Winchester laid eyes on her.

     “What are you having?”        The one person who got her drowning in her thoughts settles on a stool on her right. She glances aside at Dean, who has a gentle smile on his surprisingly plump lips.       “A beer would be great.” She turns to Ellen, who is waiting by the fridge for an answer.      The wrangler puts up two fingers as he makes contact with his aunt behind the counter, signaling her to double it. Skillfully, she flips the caps off the bottles and hands them over.      “Here ye go. On the house,” she insists, her expression gentle.      “Thank you,” Y/N returns gratefully with a slight nod of the head.

     As Ellen Singer leaves to join her husband, Y/N is forced to deal with the guy in the seat next to her. Conflicting emotions battle each other inside her chaotic mind. Working on this ranch is going to show her Dad that she can build a company worth his investment. It will teach her everything she needs to know about ranch work. She made an agreement with herself that she is going to use every second of her time to learn. Wasting it by fooling around with one of the wranglers does not fit in her schedule and it certainly isn’t going to deliver the message that she’s taking this internship seriously. But she cannot deny that a part of her is curious about this cowboy. He ignited a downright confusing interest, all that with a few lingering stares and a couple of words.

     When she glances aside at the handsome man, elbows on the bar while holding her beer loosely by its neck, Jo moves into her peripheral vision. With a stack of plates in her hands, the blonde cowgirl enters the area behind the counter and continues to the kitchen, but not before shooting her new friend a glare that asks her what the hell she’s doing and tells her to stop it right now. Jo’s good advice fights its way to the surface and Y/N’s common sense takes over again. Dean didn’t take a seat because he likes her, he took that seat because he wants to get laid tonight.

     “So--” he starts off.      “Just let me get one thing straight,” Y/N interrupts, “I’m here to learn about the ranch management, not to entertain you during lonely moments. You might be able to wind any other girl around your finger, but not me, so forget it.”      It’s out there before she’s able to stop herself. She doesn’t fully understand where the words came from and how she managed to gather the courage to speak up, but the harsh message is out, hovering between them and throwing her admirer off his game. Jo - who spied on them from around the corner - seems impressed and smirks, amused, before disappearing again. 

     She’s not the only one who is left stunned. Dean has raised his eyebrows and needs a moment to recover.      “In my defense, I was gonna ask you if you were looking forward to your first day tomorrow,” he says with a chuckle, rubbing his chin.      “I like to set boundaries,” she states, taking a swig of her beer.      “Apparently.” Dean clears his throat, collecting himself before he speaks a little lower. “Good thing I like to break them.”

     The charismatic man has turned towards her now, his hand holding the beer resting on the counter. He’s not hiding that this hard-to-get demeanor actually intrigues him more. His arrogance, on the other end, only fuels Y/N’s persistence to shut his attempt down.      “It wouldn’t really be breaking boundaries if I’m just a number on the long list of girls you picked up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and tomorrow probably isn’t going to be much shorter, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

     With those words, she knocks back the last of the beer and leaves the bottle on the bar. Before he can stop her, she hops off her stool.      “I’ll show you the way,” Jo offers, surfacing from the backroom again.       With a suppressed grin on her lips, she passes Dean, who watches the two girls walk away from him, flabbergasted.

     It’s then when the puzzle pieces fall in place. That little bitch... Jo just cockblocked him! He bets his lovely cousin told all about his intermezzos with some of the women that have passed through these doors. She just ruined a perfectly good chance to get together with the new girl. 

     Without giving him one more second of her time, Y/N starts to walk towards the exit of the saloon, followed by Jo. “G’night, everyone.”      They all reply, either with words or by waving, all but Dean. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, turning on the stool to meet his beer again. It doesn’t happen very often, but his pride has taken quite a punch. When he looked at the woman that had him do a double-take when she walked through those doors, he could have sworn he saw her react to him.      Maybe you’re getting sloppy, he thinks to himself. Maybe you’re getting too old for this shit.  

     No, that can’t be it. Just because he’s heading towards those dreadful thirties, doesn’t mean he has to change the way he plays this game. Benny is half a decade older than him, he still lives like a bachelor and will most likely do so for the rest of his days. The intern probably has some history that causes her to act this way, a backpack full of misery; not something he wants to deal with anyway. Too complicated, at least that what he’s tries to convince himself of.

     “Hey, amigo? What’s that on your face?”      Ash looks over at the bar, observing the man who just got rejected. He shuffles the cards for the last game of the night.      “Oh, I see it too,” Garth acknowledges, pretending to be shocked by the sight. “That doesn’t look so good.”      Dean feels his cheek and casts a confused gaze at his friends as Benny starts to snigger.      “That’s one ugly lookin’ red handprint that’s swelling up, man,” Ash continues.

     Garth giggles, his laughter coming out in a high-pitched sniggering sound. By now Dean gets what’s going on and rolls his eyes. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these assholes.      “That’s gotta hurt, Chief. Want me to get some ice for that?” Benny adds, sparkles in his bright blues.      “Y’all can kiss my go-to-hell,” Dean mutters, unable to appreciate the banter.

     Now all three burst out in laughter and even Bobby can’t help but join in a full belly laugh. After the fun, Benny gets up from his chair and walks over to fill the empty spot beside him.      “I think this is a good thing,” he comments, his accent as gentle as Southern comfort. “It'll keep you sharp, a gal like that.”      “She’s quite somethin’, isn’t she?” Dean smiles at his drink.      “She ain’t easy, that’s for sure,” he agrees. “Good thing she ain’t the only lady friend in town.”

     Benny redirects Dean’s eyes to a beautiful dark-haired woman at the pool table. Casey is a guest that enjoys her time at the ranch every holiday, especially since most of that time is spent with a certain wrangler. She must have arrived just now, because he didn’t notice her earlier. Or was that because his eyes and mind were too occupied by someone else? It doesn’t matter, because when Casey makes eye contact before pocketing the striped number thirteen, the sexual tension between them is already stirring up. He might not spend the night between the sheets with Y/N, but he will be satisfied by the end of the night either way.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part three here

[runnfromtheak]

fanfic author’s tagging game (yay!)

Thank ya darling for tagging me!!!! @boyblunder-thedarkheir!!!!!

AO3 Name(s): LostandLonelyBirds aka RUNNFROMTHEAK

Fandom(s): Primarily Batfamily (so, Dick Grayson) and Young Justice (along with DCU obviously, but I also dabble into Miralculous Ladybug, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and MCU (none of which I will ever seriously write for? Idk man).

Number of fics: 22 I will admit to (how do you have so many, my dear @boyblunder-thedarkheir​? What is your secret?)

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Are we talking writing or thinking about writing, cause those are two very different answers. I spent the most time writing this bitch of a fic I’m working on right now, and the most time thinking about the two latest installments of my main series, Death is But An Illusion (aka How Could He and How Could It Be). I agonize over every goddamn detail with Dick’s anger, Jason’s Jason-ness, and every person’s every move and word. I am a mess, and I’m going to be murdered if I don’t update them soon. I am not sorry about that XD

2. Fic you spent the least time on:  You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) aka my pick-your-own-canon clusterfuck of Dark!Dick Grayson and Dick Grayson being traumatized and tortured with no comfort (Some of them are so fucked up I question my own mind). I take less than an hour to write 80% of them, cause they’re short, and they very rarely take any time to plan. Fun and easy!

3. Longest Fic: At present, he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn)  is my longest, but the fic I’ve been hinting at on my other tumblr, @lostandlonelybirds​ is easily double the length (why do I do this to myself? Why am I like this?) the long boi (named one, not the one I won’t shut up about) is easily my best fic at the moment, and I’m so excited to write a sequel whenever I get the chance.

4. Shortest Fic: With Bated Breath and Pain You See (We're Nothing More Than Memories) technically, I have one shorter than that, but it’s a collab that wasn’t my original idea so I’m not counting it :)

5. Most Hits: You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) why do you people like this trash-fire so much? I don’t understand

6. Most Kudos:  How Could He which does not surprise me.

7. Most Comment Threads: Technically, How Could He followed by the trash-fire AU title thing I’m too lazy to type again, but I’m gonna love on this one: Just Close Your Eyes (No One Can Hurt You Now) because it’s my baby, and it deserves it okay?

8. Fave Fic You Wrote: Ooo we are doing a top five.

             5. How Could It Be (Jason is precious and sad and Dick is oblivious, and I love one-sided pining wayyyy too much)

             4.  How Could He (I put my life force into this stupid fic, so ofc it’s here)

             3. I'm Scared to Live But I'm Scared to Die (I'm Numb Inside) (the suicidal boy, major trigger warning)

             2. I See Things That Nobody Else Sees (And It's Slowly Killing Me)  (the only fic I’ve ever written from Cass’s perspective, and definitely one of the creepiest and most fucked up. Bruce does not look good here)

             1. he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn) (so ummm Bruce doesn’t look good here either? RHATO #25 if DC wasn’t cowardly and let Dick react how he actually would, aka fuck Batman is the new motto)

9. Rewrites?: Fuck. All my older ones? Everything? Who knows.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

Let’s do two. I’m nice.

First comes from How Could It Be:

“You loved him,” Donna says, ignoring his barb. “You loved him, and no one’s seen you or heard from you and I’m concerned, damnit.”

 She punches his shoulder roughly, and he’s reminded of her strength, no matter how small she seems in her dead best friend’s sweater.

 “I’m fine. Peachy-keen. Couldn’t be fuckin’ better. Honestly, you should be more concerned with Replacement, don’t think he’s slept in—”

 “Jason.” Her voice is firm, even as her eyes swim with tears and she holds her arms tight to herself, breathing in the well-loved item’s scent. Jason wonders when Dick wore it last, if Donna had taken it from his abandoned Gotham Penthouse or his Chicago Apartment. He wonders if he’d left it draped over the couch, like the natural disaster he was, or if it had been folded neatly in a drawer.

For someone who prides himself on not being sentimental, Jason suddenly wishes he had something of Dick’s too.

 “I’m here because I care, and because if Dick was here, he’d be doing the same thing I am.”

 “But he ain’t here,” Jason snaps, “Is he?”

 Donna’s head falls, and he feels like a giant jerk. He just… reacts poorly to that name, hasn’t heard it spoken since the transmission and subsequent funeral, since the guy he’d had the hots for since wearing the scaly panties had his mask ripped away and his life taken in front of Bruce’s eyes (who, to absolutely no one’s surprise, failed to save his son).

In the aftermath, no one said Dick Grayson’s name, always Nightwing, or some inane nickname the superhero community had for him. Last time he said it was to Damian, a failed attempt at comfort. But even Jason’s form of mutual grieving had been better than any of Bruce’s shit ideas. Bastard immortalized the ripped costume from his own son’s corpse (not that it had been the first time) and hadn’t even had the decency to give it a plaque (No ‘Good Soldier’ or ‘Good Son’, just a bare glass case with a bloody suit). Which… was weird. Jason was far from B’s best friend, but even he noticed something seemed strange, off, just not quite right. Like the funeral he didn’t speak at, like the breakdown none of them had witnessed beyond a one-off rage fit

“B, what the fuck happened down here?”

The Batcave was a disaster, dents glaringly obvious in several vehicles and a large spiderweb crack across the Batcomputer. Bruce closes the screen down, but Jason manages to catch a spiraling eye.

“Nothing, just…”

Bruce looks at the spare Nightwing costume none of them had taken down yet, still clean and ready for use (too bad its owner died and would never wear it again).

“Dick?” Jason questions, and the way Bruce’s eyes snap to his face is almost suspicious, almost enough to arouse concern.

“Yes. I—”

Jason sits next to Bruce on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I miss him too, Old Man. Don’t mean you need to be an ass about it.”

 A memorial next to Jason’s own, but Dickhead’s is empty and broken from Damian’s fists and grief, and Jason’s is just gone. No one told him why, it was just gone.

Kind of like Dick.

He wonders if Bruce would have told him if the video hadn’t been broadcast, if he would’ve told anyone. B did love his fuckin’ secrets.

 “No,” she whispers, and he can hear the tears in her voice, can feel her grief as keenly as his own. It’s palpable, tangible, “He’s dead, and I’m alive, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

 And then, to Jason’s mounting horror, she starts crying openly.

…..

Second comes from my one I’m working on rn with Stray!Dick called I See Sunset In Your Eyes (I Hate This Part Right Here)

“Come on,” Wally says with a pout, dragging an overly amused Jason and Dick with him through the karaoke bar doors. “Donna and Roy are waiting for us, and Dick had to take forever to primp.”

 Dick shrugs with a grin.

 “Beauty takes time, time I can tell you did not take.”

 Jason snorts, and Wally glares at him.

 “At least I don’t take five hours to finish getting ready.”

 “At least I can last longer than five minutes.”

 “Ouch!” Roy butts in, throwing an arm around Jason and Dick’s shoulders. “Claws are out tonight!”

 “Speaking from experience?” Jason asks, eyebrow raised.

 Dick smirks without comment, sauntering past the group towards the table Donna’s lounging at.

 “Hey gorgeous twin of mine,” He greets with a kiss to her eyes. She smirks, rolling her eyes at him.

 “You’re just stroking your own ego with the twin tacked on, Wonder Boy.”

 Dick bumps his shoulder against hers.

 “Can’t I stroke both our egos?”

 “You can stroke mine,” Wally mutters, turning red when Stray winks at his phrasing. Jason and Roy both facepalm, groaning. “Not what I meant guys!”

 “Why Kid Idiot,” Dick replies, hand on his heart, “I had no idea you could be so forward~!”

 Wally glares, waving over the waitress.

 “Round of shots, on this dick,” he jerks his thumb at Stray, offering up his fake ID. She doesn’t bother checking it, probably because this is Gotham, and they were all in uniform. “Whisky, please.”

 “Trying to get me drunk?” Jason jokes. It is, after all, his first big outing with the Titans for non-mission reasons. Stray had practically dragged him out of the Manor with a wink at Alfred and a middle finger for Bruce, saying that Jason needed to have fun outside of books.

Jason knows better than arguing with Dick Grayson-Kyle when he wants something, Stray trained him well.

 “Of course, Batboy,” Roy replies, “It’s not a Titans outing if Stray is fully dressed and everyone’s sober.”

 Dick shrugs.

 “You’ll have to get some real liquor in me if you want me to do anything like last time.”

 “Last time?” Jason asks, looking to Donna for an answer. Dick snorts. You get near naked one time…

 “Boy Blunder ended up in just his boxers in a dancing cage drunk of his ass. Everyone thought he was one of the strippers, and he made, what, three-hundred dollars in bills?”

 “Five-hundred,” Dick replies proudly, offering the waitress a twenty as she came back with their drinks. “Keep the change, darlin’!” He adds with a wink.

 She flushes, making Jason frown.

 Stray, of course, notices this and elbows Jason.

 “Don’t get jealous, Blue Jay, it’s not becoming.”

 Jason does not blush. He doesn’t, and that’s the hill he will die on.

 “I’m not. On an unrelated note, pass me a shot.”

Jason is the master of changing the subject, Stray thinks sarcastically, passing him a shot and downing one of his own.

 “Five bucks says alley cat blacks out,” Roy says smugly as Dick makes a face, the way he always did with heavier liquors. He glares at the redhead, who shrugs unapologetically.

 Donna eyes them both speculatively, taking a sip of her own drink.

 “Twenty says he gives a lap dance before he blacks out.”

 Roy snorts.

 “I’ll take it,” and to Dick, “Don’t do it, for me.”

 Dick bats his eyes innocently.

 “Lil’ old me? I would never do something so…” He trails a finger down Roy’s chest, making him swallow roughly. “Scandalous.”

 Donna grins victoriously as Roy groans, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

 “I hate you. I hate you both.”

 Tagging whoever sees this, I suppose? 

[mrs-i-have-too-many-biases]

A love like silk// Han Jisung pt. 13

Bad boy!Jisung

Genre: Angst/ Fluff (a little humour as well in this part) Summary: Silk, one of the softest fabrics on the planet. It’s breathable and comfortable. Just like how he was to you. He gave you space to breath. He always made sure you were okay. Yet why, do people say he’s bad to you? He gave you a love that’s soft and tender. A love that involves soft touches, tight hugs for comfort and sweet talk, smooth like silk. Word count: 4,2K Warnings: Swearing, FLUFF

A/N: The final part of the series? Read at the bottom of the post an important message,

It was now Monday and it was time to go to school for Jisung and Y/n. Jisung stretched his body on the matrass he laid on, Y/n’s parents had put for him next to her bed on the ground. He groans softly, realising the weekend was already over and that it was time for real life again.

After the offer from Y/n’s parent’s he immediately called Chan to tell him everything, he didn’t know what Jisung was talking about, but that’s understandable if someone is yelling gibberish in your ear on the other side of the phone. Chan was blown out of his mind when he realised that his group and himself were given a chance to become professional musicians.

He told Jisung after understanding the message, which took Jisung thirty minutes to transfer, that he’d be locked up in his self-made studio, which he also called his bedroom. Jisung smiled to himself, still feeling grateful and glee when he looked up to see his girlfriend still sleeping peacefully.

He grinned to himself and stood up, to let himself fall on her bed to wake her up with hugs and kisses. She groans when the air was knocked out of her lungs and at the tickling feeling of Jisung’s lips rushing softly over her skin.

“Good morning sweet cheeks.” He muttered in between his kisses. “Get off me, you’re heavy!” Y/n groans into her pillow. “Love me back!” He whines, making her giggle. Giving in on his little tantrum and hugging him back. “We need to get ready.” “You go first then.” He tells her as he gets off her. “We have multiple bathrooms, it would safe us time. You use mine, I’ll use my parents’. They’ve gone to work already.” She informs whilst dragging her body out of her bed.

“It’s not even half past seven yet, you’re telling me they already have gone to work?” Jisung asked shocked. “They are hardworking people I guess.” She replied with a smile. “I can see who you got it from then.” Jisung smirked as she walked away, looking her up and down.

She scoffed at him and threw a stuffed animal, he had won for her, at his face. He laughed loudly as he skilfully dodged  it. “What? I was talking about you being a hardworking woman. I was certainly not looking at your ass.” “Watch it or I’ll find something harder to throw at your face.” “You love me.” “You’re lucky I do, now get into the shower. We’re going to be late for school.” “Ma’am, yes ma’am!” He would joke before jumping into the shower.

“Jisung c’mon! We’re going to be late! We have fifteen minutes to get there!” Y/n yelled from down the stairs, waiting impatiently for Jisung’s slow ass to come back down. “Woman, calm down. I’m ready-“ He started, until he saw her.

Y/n looked up to him and saw something familiar. Jisung looked down at his shirt and then back to his girlfriend’s crop top. “Did we accidently match our outfits?” Jisung asked whilst laughing. “I guess so.” Y/n laughed. “It looks good on you, the crop top. I think my sweater would look even better-“ “Sungie, we’re literally wearing the same shirt and flirt at school, will you? We’re so late, I don’t want to go to detention after school.” Y/n grabbed him by the hand and dragged him along with her to school.

A couple of periods had passed and Y/n was in need of seeing Jisung. People kept questioning her about her relationship with Jisung, especially since they wore a matching or coordinated outfit, making it obvious that they were together.

Y/n made her way outside, to be scared by Jisung who was hidden behind a pillar. She screamed before slapping his arm playfully, making him groan dramatically in pain. “I only wanted to surprise you with a flower, I though you loved me!” He added, still playing the drama queen. “You’re so cheesy, but thank you.” She said as she accepted the flower from her boyfriend. “You told me to flirt at school, so I will baby.” He smirked whilst wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

People were staring at them as they were having lunch. Girls were sad and angry that Jisung was once again taken and so were the boys when it came to Y/n. The couple didn’t care and just ate their food whilst going through their English project once again, checking every detail whilst enjoying each other’s company.

Eventually they didn’t make a full song, Y/n didn’t want Jisung to feel too pressure on making one. She knew that he wanted it to be perfect and it would be too much pressure for him to perfect it. “I’ll make you a song then, if you won’t let me for school.” Jisung winked, making you scoff playfully. “Are you ready for our presentation?” She asked him, fumbling with her fingers. He placed her hands in his to calm her down. “I think we will nail this, don’t worry.” He pressed a kiss on her finger, before shooting her a wink. He kissed his cheek as a sign of gratefulness.

“Let’s do this then.”

Their project was called ‘the road that’s life’. It sounded really cheesy but their teacher seemed to be all in for it. They explained, in English of course, that they were supposed to make a song, but they had to little time. 

They talked about how people grow throughout the years for the better and for the worse. They took their own personal experiences and talked about them vaguely or as if it was about another person. They took their presentation to another level by making is psychologic centred. T

he pair talked about how they would love to make music that helped others, by comforting them with a good melody or with meaningful lyrics that could speak to someone’s heart. The teacher absolutely loved their presentation and the class was shocked at how well presented it was. The teacher gave the pair 95 point out of the 100, since Jisung’s pronunciation was a little off every now and then.

The two high-fived each other in victory before returning to their seat. They were given looks by the others in the class, envious at how good Jisung’s and Y/n’s presentation was, making them seem whack.

Jisung smiled at her brightly, happy that he scored so high on a subject, especially since he couldn’t had done this without her. “I’m going to treat you after school, okay?” He whispered to her. “What?” She asked surprised, he kissed her cheek sneakily and quickly before turning his focus on the teacher who was speaking, leaving Y/n bamboozled.

Y/n and Jisung were about to go to their usual café, until she was stopped by Jiyeon that stood in front of her. Y/n sighed, letting go of Jisung’s hand and kissed his cheek after he said that he will wait for her at the gate.

“What do you want Jiyeon?” She asked, not amused by Jiyeon at all. “I just wanted to tell you that I worry for you. Jisung is-“ “My boyfriend. If you’re trying to get him back by spreading untrue shit. It won’t work Jiyeon. You’ve known it ever since I’ve walked into this town. Jisung likes me and only me. You can’t do anything about it.” Y/n snapped, not here for Jiyeon’s shit.

“I-I- He was mine first!” Jiyeon scoffed, knowing she’s losing the game. Y/n smirked to herself. Jiyeon’s minions had left her weeks ago, knowing they will keep getting into trouble if they stayed around Jiyeon, leaving her alone. Y/n pitied her, but right now she felt petty and got lost in the feeling.

“Sweet heart, he was never yours. He’s not a possession you can just claim. Besides, he loved me all those times whenever you were ‘together’. Just give up already, this is starting to look pathetic.” Y/n said, noticing that people were watching them.

“He’s no good Y/n. Trust me.” Jiyeon tried again with a scoff. “You’re telling me he’s no good, but why does it feel so good?” Y/n snapped back, a smirk appearing on her face as she felt a pair of arms around her waist. “Shall we go my love?” Jisung whispered. You nodded in reply, taking his hand and leaving Jiyeon who stood there whining like a little kid who didn’t get what she wanted.

‘Too bad for her.’ Y/n thought.

“Since when did you get so confident sweet cheeks? I still remember the day I met you where you were so flustered when I called you sweet cheeks for the first time.” Jisung smirked as they were out for something to eat. “I got like this, because I’m dating you baby.” She shot him an innocent gaze as she took another bite of her food. Jisung was taken back by her comment, letting out a weird sound as he sat back, hiding his face in his hands. Making Y/n laugh in the process.

“I’m really not that confident though. She was trying to steal my man and I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“God, I love you.”

Y/n and Jisung sat there for a while, until Yasmin walked in with Woojin. Once again, Woojin was panting as he burst through the door a little later than Yasmin. Both Y/n and Jisung were perplexed at Yasmin’s sudden appearance, not really sure what to say but ‘hi’.

“’Hi’? That’s all you can say? What the fuck is this? I thought you were with Jaemin? You ignored me for weeks and I hear from Woojin about you and Jisung now being lovey dovey!” Yasmin exclaimed confused and angry as she confronted her friend.

Y/n sighed softly, knowing that she had to explain everything to her friend. Which she did after she requested Yasmin to sit down and listen to the whole story.

When Y/n was done, she received a slap on her arm from her friend. “You potato head! You should’ve told me! I could’ve helped you!” Yasmin cried. “I’m sorry.” “Are they back together?” Yasmin asked, making Woojin and Jisung turn their heads towards Y/n, being curious as well. “They are. Jae texted me last weekend that he had a chance to talk to her and he won her back. She forgave him and he said he promised her to be the greatest boyfriend she could ever think of.” Y/n said smiling happily.

“I’m glad, so you didn’t break my heart for nothing.” Jisung joked, making his friends’ jaws drop.

“Sungie!” Y/n whined, Jisung kissed her cheek, hugging her tight.

They were both happy that things were finally working out for the both of them.

Days went by and school was out since they all had vacation now.

Jisung spend most of his days writing lyrics and producing beats, Y/n would accompany him as he was working. Not minding that they were sitting in ‘silence’. Jisung even made raps for her, he was a sentimental rapper and Y/n loved how lyrical he was. His voice sounded amazing and she was praising him constantly, until she heard a certain song called ‘wow’ Jisung had produced with Changbin and Chan.

“EXCUSE ME NOONA DO YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND-“ “BABY STOP-“

Besides the song Jisung rather wants to forget, he and the others also started to perform again. Y/n’s father loved the songs they had made and they signed a deal with him. One day Jisung was crying as he performed a song, he had made for her. Everybody’s hearts were swelling as they saw the couple hugging each other at the end of the song. They all loved it.

The boys had a new image and they couldn’t be more thankful or happier.

More days went by and today was it Jisung’s mom’s birthday. Jisung felt nervous to see his parents again, especially since his mother had invited Y/n over. She didn’t know of their relationship yet, but she knew they were friends and she wanted to see her again.

“Y/n, I don’t know, we could visit another time-“ “No, we’re going baby. I already bought a gift.” Jisung pouted as he started to whine. “I can’t argue with you when you call me baby.” He whines, making her giggle. “I know my love, that’s why I did it.” Y/n stated over the phone. “Are you almost her by the way? We’re going to be late for your mother’s party.” “I am- Chan is driving as fast as he can.” “I am!” She heard him yell in the background making her laugh.

Y/n saw a car coming towards her, assuming that it was Chan and Jisung. Jisung stepped out of the car and got back in as soon as he saw her. She wore his favourite silk dress with a nice jacket. She could hear a faint scream, before Jisung got back out of the car, leaving her in a giggling fit. “Was that you?” She asked her boyfriend as they got into the back of the car together.

“N-no.” He stuttered, his eyes not leaving your body. “Excuse me, eyes up here Mr Han.” She said snapping her hand, making Chan laugh who was in the driver’s seat.

“Are you okay Sungie?” Y/n asked when Jisung hadn’t said or moved at all after ten minutes of driving.

“I-I- MY BABY LOOKS SO GOOD! WHOOH DANG!” Jisung yelled out, startling both Y/n and Chan, who burst out in laughter right after. 

“We’re here.” Chan announced, making Jisung swallow loudly. Y/n took his hand and tightened her grip to assure him that it’d be fine. They thanked Chan before getting out.

Y/n was ready to walk towards the door, but Jisung had stopped her by hugging her tight. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked him once again. “Just let me hold you for a second.” Jisung whispered. You sighed in content as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend who was almost shaking.

“I just wanted to tell you before we go in, that I’m first of all terrified. I never bought a girl home to my parents’ place. And I’m so nervous, because I know you met them already, but this feels so real and I don’t know how to handle this. And secondly, I love you so much. I don’t think that if I wouldn’t have met you, I would’ve come this far. I love you so much.” He whispered as he held you tighter.

Y/n felt like crying at how sweet her boyfriend was. She kissed his forehead and told him that it would be alright. He took a deep breath before walking with his girlfriend to the door of his parents’ place.

“I thought I heard someone!” Jisung’s mom swung the door open, scaring her son and his girlfriend out of their mind. 

“Mom!”

“I’m sorry dear, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His mother laughed before hugging her son. After she had let go of her son she turned to Y/n who stood next to them awkwardly. “Y/n, dear! It’s so good to see you again! How have you been- wait come inside!” His mom was clearly excited to celebrate her birthday with her son, since Jisung’s older brother was overseas studying still.

They caught up for a while before Jisung’s mom was going to make dinner. “Let me help you with that.” Y/n offered. “No dear, you sit down and help. You might ruin that gorgeous dress of yours.” She says. “It’s just a dress ma’am, I can buy a new one.” Y/n laughed before she disappeared into the kitchen. “You better keep her around!” Jisung’s mother whispered to her son. “Can I help you as well mom?” “Sure! I guess all help is welcome!”

Y/n was talking to Jisung’s mom whilst kind of ignoring him as he was cutting the vegetables. Jisung was slightly pouting as he wanted his girlfriend’s attention. “Baby!” Jisung whined as she was talking to his mother. “…and we got 95 point on our English project I told you about the other day!” “How amazing! What was it about?”

“We’ll tell you at dinner, but I just have to say Jisung is amazing. He’s truly the best.” His mother smiled and looked at her son who was still pouty cutting the vegetables. She nudges Y/n who then looked at her boyfriend and chuckles. She would put down what she was doing and walk to him and hug him from behind. He sighed happily when he felt her touch and leaned back so she could burry her face in the crook of his neck.

“Finally.” He sighed, putting his stuff down as well as he enjoyed the affection. They heard his mother in the background coughing, turning their attention to her. “Why don’t you two go and sit on the couch, you’ve helped me enough. Go and relax, you have vacation!” Jisung and Y/n did as they were told and sat on the couch together. Jisung wanted to cuddle with his significant other, but she didn’t want his parents to walk in on them. “Baby we’re just cuddling-“ “Still!” She hisses. They suddenly hear the door open to reveal Jisung’s dad walking in.

The adult man looked surprise to see the two in front of him. Jisung let go of her immediately and sat up straight. The man nodded as a greeting, receiving a hi and a small bow from Y/n whilst Jisung stared awkwardly at his dad. Y/n felt the tension and when his dad was out of sight, she brought Jisung into her arms and told him that everything would be alright.

The four of them were sitting at the dinner table, the parents would be having a conversation whilst Jisung and Y/n had their own. “Jisung my dear, when are you coming home with a someone? We- well I at least, would love you to date someone like Y/n.” His mother would confess, making Y/n spit out her drink almost. 

The parents gave her a confused look, whilst she was too focussed on Jisung who was trying to calm her down. After they shared a look Jisung started to speak. 

“Well, mom. I am dating Y/n actually.” Jisung confessed softly. His mother exclaimed loudly in surprise, before clapping her hands in excitement.

“That’s wonderful my love! I’m so glad that you have found someone so great as her!” She chirped. “I’m glad that I’ve met your son Mrs and Mr Han. Your son is absolutely amazing. He takes good care of me and I’m very happy to call him my significant other.” Y/n confessed, making Jisung smile before kissing her cheek.

Jisung looked at his dad, who still hasn’t said anything. His mother noticed as well and poked her husband in his sides, ordering him to give the young couple something out of him. The adult man cleared his throat before speaking. “Congratulations. You’ve found a lovely lady Jisung.” He spoke softly. Y/n thanked her boyfriend’s dad for the compliment, whilst Jisung was still just staring at his own dad.

Twenty minutes later, the silence was broken by Jisung’s dad and it left everybody in shock. “So, Jisung. I heard you started music again?” Jisung looked up to his dad in surprise. His dad never showed any interest in Jisung’s life. He was often too busy with himself or his job. 

“I-I did.” Jisung was able to get out of his throat. “Have you been making music again with your friends?” His mother asked as well. Now Jisung turned to his mother in surprise, the same thing applied to her. She never seemed interested in his life, so this was very unfamiliar for Jisung.

Under the table had Jisung grabbed Y/n’s hand in comfort and he felt himself calm down when her thumb caressed his hand softly. “I am. We have received a deal from Y/n’s parents who started a music project. We’ve done a couple of performances already and we’ve been doing very well.” “Y-you what?” His mother stuttered whilst she looked at Y/n.

“What do your parents do exactly?” She asked curiously. “Well, they were CEO’s of an international trading business, but my dad wanted to follow his dreams and do something with music. One day Jisung was making food for me whilst singing and my dad heard so he gave Jisung and his friends a chance. My dad saw a lot of potential and I believe so too that they can make it far in this business.” Y/n said proudly with a smile.

“That’s very impressive, have you lived overseas?” “Well yes, before I came to Korea, I lived in Singapore for three years. I’ve also lived in Europe for multiple years.” “My goodness, that’s unbelievable.” His mother seemed very impressed and happy, whilst his dad still hadn’t reacted.

Another five minutes of silence went by and his dad stared to speak up again. “Well, Jisung. I hope it works out for you and the others. You deserve it after what happened. I really hope your mother and I get to hear some of the works you produced. I also hope that you and Y/n will stay together, she’s good for you. Now, if you will excuse me.” He said before standing up and walking away, leaving everybody stunned.

Jisung suddenly remembered that Y/n had talked to his dad and he dragged her into his arms, making her squeal. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but it must be magic. You made my dad like you and say that.” Jisung whispered stunned. His mother was bamboozled as well. “She really does wonders in this household.” His mother exclaimed. “I wish I had met her earlier. We would’ve had more memories.” Jisung said with love visible in his eyes.

“I really didn’t do anything.” Y/n says shyly. “You opened his eyes dear, mine as well. If it wasn’t for you, our so might had never talked to us again.” 

“Sweet cheeks, just admit it. You’re an angel.” Jisung jokes.

“Alright, different subject. Mrs Han, I bought you a small present.” Y/n said whilst getting the small box out of her purse. Jisung’s mom took it politely, before opening it to reveal a beautiful minimalistic diamond necklace. “It’s not much, but we didn’t want to arrive with bare hands.” “My dear, it’s so beautiful. Thank you two so much.” She says before standing up to give them a hug.

“JUST ADMIT THAT YOU’RE AN ANGEL ALREADY WOMAN-“

The night ended quicker than they thought and before they knew it was Jisung walking her home. He held her tightly by her waist as they stumbled down towards the sunset. “I wish that I could spend everyday with you, looking at the sunset whilst holding you in my arms. I wish I would wake up with you snuggled up to me, every day, for the rest of our lives.” Jisung whispered softly as they stared at the scenery in front of them.

She turned to him with a smile, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m so fucking grateful for you. You have no clue. You made my life so much better. We might have a mess that had to be cleaned up, but we got through that. I don’t know how much I have to thank the universe for meeting you and getting to keep you in my life, to call you fucking mine. I love you so much. I hope you know that. I will make sure that you will feel loved and I promise that I remind you how much I love you, every day.” Jisung confessed as he held her hand. Y/n was tearing up by his sweet words, hugging him tight as she cried onto his shoulder.

“I love you so much. You’re the sweetest thing. I am so glad that my gut was right when everybody told me that you were bad news. I knew that there was so much more in you and I was right. You’ve helped me so much as well Sungie. I couldn’t be happier that you’re in my life. I love you so much I don’t know what I would do without you.” She admitted, making Jisung cry this time.

The two stayed like that for a while, before walking again.

Whilst Y/n’s eyes were focussed on where they were walking, was Jisung’s focused on his beautiful girlfriend who he still just couldn’t believe was his. Her face was glowing and if this wasn’t the prove that angels were real, Jisung wouldn’t know it anymore.

What he did know is that he loved her to bits. 

And that he would love her for the rest of his life.

The end...?

So, this is the final part of the ‘A love like silk’ series... OR IS IT?

MWUAHAHAHA

Gif isn’t mine. Fuck he’s cute.

[kyn19]

1 THROUGH 98! I WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWERS AND I CAN'T STAND GETTING THEM PIDDLING BIT BY PIDDLY BIT!!!!!

Lmaooooo what a fuckin Mood. Thank you!!!!! Also, you’re getting Drunk Kylie answers which are arguably the Best answers. For the courtesy of everyone���s dash, answers are below the cut!! <3 <3 <3

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs! I have a sizable collection lmao #WriterLife

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

omg such a tough one, both are aces. seriously I can think of so many combatting pros & cons!! the only fair way i can currently conceive is which i would want weed in. Which is lollipops bc (#UnpopularOpinion) pot makes chocolate taste bad.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

both are great, but def bubblegum.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

“Pleasure to have in class” in true Gifted Child fashion

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

i’ll rate them in order: 1) can (absolutely preferred), 2) bottle if alone but plastic (lez be honest, Red Solo Cup) if with company, 3) glass (do not like)

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

#1 goth all the way. Pastel and Formal guest appearances

7. earbuds or headphones?

headphone, bc earbuds usually hurt my ears.

8. movies or tv shows?

first of all, how dare you. second of all, tv shows ONLY BECAUSE if all my fave movies were given tv shows so that they could last longer i would choose so

9. favorite smell in the summer?

idk i guess pool chlorine? dislike summer

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

bruh fuckin none. elementary school: too long ago to recall. middle school: escaped having to take gym at all. high school: had a medical excuse to take online PE. least athletic girl u know

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

i don’t have bfast bc eating close to when i awaken makes my tummy upset

12. name of your favorite playlist?

hmm 4-way tie between “#motivate #bitch” (gets me pumped to work) and “Friends Of The Illness” (my playlist of songs about and/or artist who are mentally ill) and “Ominous/haunting” (speaks to my creepy side) and “Bad Bitches” (self-explanatory amirite)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Key ring. Straight up I use an extra shoelace as my key ring string, despite owning multiple lanyards.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

god another fkn hard one. Listen y’all, you dont understand how much of a sugar fiend i am. candy is my JAM. Starbursts, Sour Straws, Skittles, Jolly Ranchers...who can choose?!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

“Ceremony” by Leslie Marmon Silko. Highly recommend!!!!!!!!!!!

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

laying down lol sitting is for suckers

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

combat boots like the gay i am

18. ideal weather?

low 70′s degrees (F*), intermittent showers during the day but clear starry skies overnight

19. sleeping position?

mostly fetal, mostly on my side but chest is towards the bed, one arm under the pillow under my head

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop. I used to love writing in notebooks, but ya girl got weak fingy joints nowadays

21. obsession from childhood?

pfft as if they aren’t the same obsessions i have now

22. role model?

so many!!!!! Jameela Jamil is the first that comes to mind

23. strange habits?

lmao i am ass-deep in idiosyncrasies, if you ain’t read the blog title already

24. favorite crystal?

i don’t know anything about crystals. does blue topaz count? cuz that’s my birthstone and i like that one a lot. i even had the foresight to pick that as my engagement ring’s stone in my utterly preposterous & failed relationship

25. first song you remember hearing?

oh wow, no idea. music has always been huge for me. probably either a Britney Spears or Mary J. Blige song???

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

stay inside lmao

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

WEAR SWEATERS & DRINK HOT CHOCOLATE, BITCH!!!!!!!!!

28. five songs to describe you?

oof ok, hard, but here goes:

“Here” by Alessia Cara

“Wannabe” by the Spice Girls

“I’m Just a Kid and Life Is A Nightmare” by Simple Plan

“No Daddy” by Teairra Mari

“Brick By Boring Brick” by Paramore

29. best way to bond with you?

i am straight up not easy to make friends with (bc my own bullshit, not trying to be pretentious), so bonding is hard. the best way is probably a combo of queer + memes + loves food + correct morals + being the dominant talker

30. places that you find sacred?

Libraries, locally owned coffee shops, Walmarts at 3am, playgrounds in the middle of the night, side of a rural road at 12am, my bed

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Blazer + shirt with a titty window + high waisted plaid pants + platform booties

32. top five favorite vines?

OMG I LOVE VINES OK OK OK OMG I LOVE SO MANY SO HERE ARE JUST THE ONES I QUOTE THE MOST OK:

Josh Kennedy: “What’s up my name’s Jared I’m 19 and I never fucking learned how to read”

Sarah Schauer: [dont remember the beginning] “didn’t you..?” “sleep in this? yes. mama needs A DRINK”

Evan Breer: “What’s up my & my boys are going to see Uncle Kracker - give me my hat back Jordan, do you see Uncle Kracker or no - *gasp!*”

Drew Gooden: “Road work ahead? Um yeah, I sure hope it does...”

Nathan Enick: “Yo how much money do you have?” “69 cents” “Oh you know what that means!” “...i don’t have enough money for chicken nuggets :( ...”

33. most used phrase in your phone?

bruh like how even am i supposed to answer this?? like texts or Siri requests or????? bc if it’s Siri requests then it’s 100% for arithmetic

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

Stanley Steamer. you kno the one

35. average time you fall asleep?

3:30am

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

bitch i’m a 90′s child of the internet, i was around the web before YouTube launched, i was there when the first modern memes were fucking conceived. i will say the biggest repository of meme culture that i was a part of was YouTube and icanhazcheezburger.com & its side-sites.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

duffel - Tie-Dye Girl from the Lindsey Lohan “Parent Trap” made quite the impression on me

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade! hate the leaf water

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake! Not a meringue pie girl saly

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

I’ve been to a lot of schools yo lol. My undergrad college was def the “weirdest” ofc, bc it was an art school lol. An instance that stands out was a string of “Solid Gold Clit” graffiti after a Sophia Wallace visit to campus right before i started there.

41. last person you texted?

My bff triad pals @backwardswriter and @bristarshine

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

damn tough call. Probably jacket pockets bc i’m more likely to have those as a lady who wears lady-targeted pants

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

Plum!

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, though sci-fi is a solid 2nd. Not much of a superhero gal

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

.....underwear only. Sometimes an oversized t-shirt too.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella!!!

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I would want to be like a pomegranate, but i’m probably a nectarine

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“If you hope for the best but expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

bitch i’m a giggle monster, i taught myself to be easily amused as a survival mechanism.

51. current stresses?

My own lack of discipline.

52. favorite font?

oooooof i have so many ok. too name a few: Centaur, Garamont, Book Antigua, Times New Roman, Montserrat.....mostly Serif fonts bc I’m an old books bitch

53. what is the current state of your hands?

I don’t love my hands (how homophobic of me, I know). Currently they’re kinda dry and full of sandwich

54. what did you learn from your first job?

what kind of boss I like. also that my customer service voice is frighteningly pleasant

55. favorite fairy tale?

Original tale: Thumbelina. Adaptations: Snow White.

56. favorite tradition?

uhhh Thanksgiving feast I guess? i am not a traditions gal

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

I am very very fortunate to not have a lot or a severity of these. The ones that I’ve had the worst of are: gender discrimination/harassment as a woman, hardcore emotional abuse in a relationship, and heavy heavy mental illness

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Tangible talents: writing, lying. Intangible: A+ imagination, useless trivia.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I support you!”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

like if Tokyo Mew Mew and Higurashi No Naku Koro Ni had a baby

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

Again, how dare you. Like literally, asking me to pick a favorite line from something is like asking what my favorite breed of dog is. Legit impossible

62. seven characters you relate to?

Ananka Fishbein (Kiki Strike series), Mermista (She Ra & the Princesses of Power), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Gwen (Total Drama), Rori Gilmore (Gilmore Girls), Villanelle (Killing Eve), Andrea (St. Trinian’s)

so like all very- to semi-weird white girls lmao

63. five songs that would play in your club?

[by the term “club” i assume that i’m limited to pop and electronic music. even with the limitation, though, a super hard question]

“Talking Body” by Tove Lo

“Hot in Herre” by Nelly

“Because the Night” by Cascada

“Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels” by Todrick Hall

“Break Free” by Ariana Grande ft. Zedd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

pretty much any doll franchise’s site (Barbie, Bratz, My Scene, Polly Pocket, Diva Girlz, everGirl, etc you name it)

65. any permanent scars?

Yep. One by a dog scratch (it was honestly a weak/shallow/innocent scratch, i still have no idea why it scarred at all), and a few from a car crash last year

66. favorite flower(s)?

i don’t really like flowers? i usually just say Forget-Me-Not’s for ease

67. good luck charms?

bitch idk but i’m knocking on wood just from thinking bout it

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

you ever taste that chocolate Laffy Taffy? vile bruh

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I am annoying enough to know how i learnt all my facts, but the funnest fact I like to annoy people with is that ducks have corkscrew penises evolved from their main form of mating being rape

70. left or right handed?

Right (like any ol’ simp)

71. least favorite pattern?

polka dots

72. worst subject?

MATH and also PHYS ED

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

One time whilst high, I put nacho cheese Doritos on a tuna sandwich. Winning combo, I’m telling you

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

My pain tolerance is straight up unpredictable, so like anywhere from a 3 to a 9

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

5 years old

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Mashed potatoes

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

I am not a plant person. Moss.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

fucking neither but i at least like coffee so i guess the former....

(i know, it’s tragic and barbaric that i dislike sushi, i wish i had another answer for you)

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Neither lmao - I got them within a month of each other (six years ago) so they’re essentially the same photo.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

I mean those are the same bug so I assume this is asking about which terminology I typically use/prefer. Which i would say both bc I’m a cultured ho

82. pc or console?

I don’t game so I guess PC lmao

83. writing or drawing?

Writing but I like both

84. podcasts or talk radio?

damn neither lmao I can’t focus on non-music audio only. I guess talk radio, just bc I can do like ten minute radio segments at least lol

84. barbie or polly pocket?

both were lit but I had more Barbies

85. fairy tales or mythology?

not to sound like a broken record but FIRST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU? second of all, I essentially consider them in the same category at this point in modernity, so my answer is Yes.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cupcakes, but both are exquisite

87. your greatest fear?

spiders, heights, clowns, seeing bad things happening to animals, that my consciousness will exist even after death, y’know normal stuff

88. your greatest wish?

to transfer myself into one of my fave fictional worlds

89. who would you put before everyone else?

dogs, next question

90. luckiest mistake?

i make a lot of those honestly, so who knows

91. boxes or bags?

LISTEN I LOVE CONTAINERS OF ALL SORTS, YOU CAN’T MAKE ME CHOOSE, IM PANSEXUAL FOR A REASON

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

FLASHLIGHTS, BITCH

93. nicknames?

Ky, KyKy, Moonshine, SugarTits, Goog Bones

94. favorite season?

Autumn (yes i call it that instead of Fall bc i’m a pretentious ass bitch lol)

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr, c’mon

96. desktop background?

Currently a digital art painting of a flowing stag in a swamp that I downloaded from DeviantArt. I change it every few months though (to other downloaded digital art from DA that I collect periodically lmao)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Seven - mine, my mom’s 2 numbers, my grandma’s, my pop’s cell and office (also my old office) numbers, and my childhood house phone number lol

98. favorite historical era?

Golden Age of Piracy, specifically bc the piracy lol

Thank you so much for the asks, this was so much fun!!!