#oh gee! event

[yoonyeon0]

Omggee congratulations on 50+ followers yooo

Could I request a fluffy gaolang x reader where reader tries their darndest to get gaolang to paint his nails pink for valentines day

🙏🙏🙏🙏 thank youu🙇🙇🙇

PINK MANICURES W/ GAOLANG

DAY ONE - PAINTING YOUR NAILS AND BEGGING GAOLANG TO JOIN!

NOT PROOFREAD; word count : 928

masterlist - oh gee!

it was a fairly chilly day, most people deciding to stay inside because of it. you were one of those people, staying inside and doing most household chores and entertaining yourself since your husband had gone to work hours prior.

while watching boring documentaries and skipping past channels for anything interesting your eyes were also getting very distracted by your nails. you sat there, staring at your nails for a fairly long time, inspecting the natural beauty of them before getting the best idea - why don’t you paint them?

it was 5:28 pm and you were looking around the house for any decor you could put on your boring nails until you found it. a beauty baby pink nail polish. it was perfect! valentines was coming up anyway so why not?

you sat down quickly and got to work. quickly preparing your nails for the polish by cutting your cuticles and putting on a base peeling coat.

hours passed like minutes and every second that passed made you visibly wanna cry. why did you suddenly decide to make these simple nails so much harder? adding gems and designs should be left to the professionals but apparently you were one as well!

you were too busy working on your last nail to notice the sound of the door opening and closing behind you and shoes clacking off until the deep voice of your husband sounded behind you accompanied by a kiss to your cheek.

“hi dear. how was your day?”

you turned your head and smiled upon realizing who was looking at you now - your sweet loving husband.

“it was soo boring. you know, you really shouldn’t have left me, your beautiful, amazing, and angelic wife here alone.” you said sarcastically.

“i know. im sorry love, i promise ill stay here with you more okay?”

“kaolang i was being sarcastic about that. enough about me, how was your day?”

he heaved out a sigh and avoided your gaze a little before muttering a simple “it was like normal”

obviously something had happened but you couldn’t decipher what. you wanted to pesk him about it and ask why he was feeling so tense but he had already walked away. you stared at your husband as he slowly walked to your shared bedroom to change. you gave a small frown, a little sad that your large husband was stressed about something and you couldn’t reallly do anything about it.

until you remembered your pink nails. you could paint gaolang’s nails! i mean, matching is so adorable and he wouldn’t mind right?

you got up from the chair you were seated on to your shared bedroom where gaolang was currently changing.

“honey, do you want me to do your nails?”

gaolong’s shirt was halfway off and he was now looking at you with a surprised look (which was really just his eyes widening.) his shock seemed to disappear immediately as he finished taking off his shirt to approach you.

“my nails? what brought this on?”

“oh nothing! i just wanted us to match for valentines!”

you could tell he was debating on how to tell you no in the kindest way he could but you couldn’t decipher also tell that he immediately gave up.

“of course dear.”

╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚

you were seated in front of kaolong, watching him look intently at the baby pink polish you put on his nails. you giggled slightly, catching his attention.

“what’s funny?”

“your reaction! you need to calm down - im the one doing this so you are in good hands.”

he gave a small chuckle before deciding to let his body go a little less tense than it was already. you noticed this and smiled. now that he was clearly calmer, you decided to take the initiative to ask what happened at work today.

”hey honey, what happened at work today? you seem more tense than usually.”

he obviously didn’t wanna talk about what happened to avoid adding more on your plate to stress about so as usual he thought about if he should tell you before giving in.

“one of my opponents had made a nasty comment on you and it really pissed me off. maybe that’s what has me so tense.”

you let out light chuckles before exhaling with a big smile on your smile on your face.

“you know gaolong, you’re adorable.”

that one remark made gaolong blush in shock. he put his head down in order to hide his blush a bit but you stopped him by taking your hand to cup your cheek and slowly caress it.

“you’re getting all worked up over a little stupid remark. next time if they have something to say about me, tell them to come and say it to my face.”

he was shocked at the words coming out of your mouth but pleased that you weren’t scared to defend yourself.

“okay love. ill try.”

“enough about all of that sad and sappy shit. look at your nails! they’re so cute and we match!”

you put both of your hands on gaolong’s rough and beaten hands, feeling the dedication to his craft residing within them. you smiled as your hands were obviously softer than his rough hands. you saw how much he does for you to live a comfortable life and it made you smile. you quickly stopped daydreaming as you saw him tilting his head in confusion as you were staring at him and not the nails.

“we should post these on insta! hold on, let me get my phone!”

erm guys i don’t like this - probably butchered this SO bad but we persevere 😓

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣! 𝘿𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠.

[aestariiwilderness]

But yes – sure, “Free Palestine!” supporters are worried for the Palestinian children. This man was so concerned “for the children”, in fact, that he directly copied Hamas’ efforts and…shot children to demonstrate his concern for children. Likewise – again imitating Hamas and so many other so-called Pro-Palestinians – he held individual children responsible for the imaginary crimes of a Christian elementary school/imaginary crimes of a nation, and attempted to kill them for it. And planned to do so again. Oh, and it’s not even done! To cap it all off, he planned to use his own "child" as a weapon to kill more children, in his concern “for the children”. Just like Hamas and the Palestinians themselves, who regularly send their own children as suicide bombers to Israel to kill Jews; who systematically brainwash their children into thinking their lives are only worth however many Jews they can kill. 

There is no sense here; there is no moral high ground, there is no freedom or justice or actual concern for anyone. There is only unreasoning, bigoted hate and a manic love of death. 

The children he shot -- 5 and 6 years old, respectively -- are alive, thank God.

[y-vna]

　❘❙ 　✢ 　You'll be the prince

　❘❙ 　✢ 　and I'll be the princess 　🍥　 @wintercitos ˖

Tysm @p-oisn for helping me with this mb ヽ(●´ε｀●)ノ

- I only put these versions, so the cover for lover matches the moodboard colors, but you should totally listen to Taylor's version of these songs instead! :33

[fusionsprunt]

Hunter what the FUCK-

.

[lowrezbonuslevel]

ew icky puter

they might be stupid idk

the above is star dream's base form. currently working on the form they might take after the "cool corporate spy incident."

[osaemu]

3K ?!!! WE CHEERED OMG ! !

💌💌 omg my baby is shoo famous neow dont forget about us little bunnies when u touch the stars ! !⭐⭐ im shoo proud of u my hannah banana , i love u shoo much i cherish u so close to me my little tulip in da spring ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

YUYUUUU IM LITERALLY TYPIN UP MY ASK FOR UR EVENT RIGHT NOW ! 🥹🥹 NOOO you'll always be one of my first (and cutest !) moots ever mwah mwah <333 ILYSM SENDING U LOTS OF LOVE !!

[deathsmallcaps]

Replying to tags but then I ran out of room and I think i was if not cooking then at least microwaving

#dude when I was in 6th grade I read #the veldt #and at the time it disgusted and genuinely scared me because I was #just so surprised that people - children! - could be raised to be so heartless #idk if I read it for the first time as a 23 year old it would scare me so much #but goddamn

#I think we're both people who are *at least* good at literacy but we're both a little too STEMmy #to look at it the way some English teachers want us to? #like they want people to go from 'damn that's fucked up → what themes are the authors trying to explore here → what about the world #made them think of that and perhaps what are they trying to get us to consider and think about and perhaps change' #obviously not all writing is a fable with a moral at the end #but a lot of good writing has some sort of central belief that it wants the reader to consider

#(I struggle in creating that with my fiction ugh and I think a lot of booktok books do too and it bugs me that we have that connection)

#but anyway #I think you and I'd first reactions are like #’that's horrible → how can we prevent that specific problem from occurring again' #like take the lottery. my (and maybe your?) first reaction is like 'that's horrible → they should ban the lottery' #but the English teacher is going to want us to think 'oh gee okay so this is a commentary on traditions. why would this tradition be started #/necessary? does the lottery reflect the overall morals and sensibilities of the overall society (aka fond of the death penalty etc). #what sort of tradition might this mirror today? connecting to historical events and the fact that the person stoned and the author were #women. aka the gender commonly stoned for witchcraft in New England #do you think that's related?' etc etc etc wrapped in metaphors and shit. and tbh that's how I learned a lot of my religious and political #philosophy as well as history. I really like Thomas swift's 'a modest proposal' (satire) for that reason.

but that was NOT my initial #thought process for English class. I had to be heavily trained into thinking that way and often my first instinct is to not engage with the #metaphor an just go straight to the logic/sensible answer. blah blah blah. I really respect lit and history teachers as a profession but boy #do I not want to teach it because I would be so slack on writing the kinds of questions that would get the kids to engage with the meta. #once I got a piece I got it but it was a struggle every damn time. because I had to get over my feelings of well why didn't they just not #do that'

the biggest one I can think of is 'song of Solomon' by Toni Morrison. I think my senior AP English teacher wanted us to really #consider authors and characters of color (he was white but it was 2018-2019 aka Trump era) so he taught us othello and TM. othello is a #little easier to understand because iago is just being a little bitch about a Black foreigner getting a promotion and a hot wife and no longer being able to convince himself that he was better than Othello

But TM’s main character Milkman? Unlikeable, spoiled little shit who doesn’t give a damn that he’s the 1 percent of his marginalized community and he’s frittering his privileges away so hard that it literally induces suicidal and murderous tendencies into the people around him. Among other things.

It took me foreverrrrrr to engage with the text beyond GOD I HATE THIS GUY but once I was able to examine his psychology and the mean flip side of ‘if you want to fly, you have to get rid of earthly attachments’, which he does at the end of the story.

Was it a chore? Absolutely. But have I ever forgotten the story or the literary tools it gave me? No.

Maybe I’m just speaking for myself in this longass response - you and I usually talk animals and men not books 😅 - but yeah every English class is full of these annoying stories that are meant to rattle one’s brain and I REALLY avoid rattling lmao. Tbqh again I respect lot classes but I’m glad they’re over lmao

But anyways I listened to Levar Burton’s podcast ‘Levar Burton Reads’ from start to finish, and he once read (as a three parter) Toni Morrison’s Recitatif. It’s the story of two girls, one Black one white, who grew up around and with and against each other during the mid 1900s.

I didn’t know what the story was getting at, aside from the surface ideas of the American Civil Rights Movement and privilege and stuff. But LB usually asked questions or briefly mentioned the author’s main idea at the end. And when he did? HOLY FUCK.

If you ever decide to listen to it (I’ve never gotten my hands to a print copy so idk if they usually have some sort of author’s note at the end to ask the reader this question)(I love LB’s voice he’s a pleasure to listen to if you listen to Recitatif) please @ me and tell me if it also blew your mind and made you consider how you viewed the POV character of the story.

Because it blew my mind and made me really consider why I assumed things about the pov character. Im not going to say anything further because I feel like I’m spoiling the point but yeah.

Anyways again this could be just me but I’ve always had trouble moving on from the straight solution mindset. When I was 12 I was in a model UN and I was told to write a report about Togo and its healthcare issues. I took this to mean that I had to research the common issues there (such as unclean water and mosquito bite diseases) and then come up with solutions.

It was incredibly embarrassing to do all that and then hear every other group explain their countries healthcare issues and WHY (historically, monetarily, etc) their countries struggled with such things. And my ass went up there and talked about affordable mosquito deterrent changes to water sources and cheap water cleaning services.

I didn’t realize it then but like. It perfectly exemplified my lack of instinct to subtextually interact with instructions and prompts.

And the thing is. May the universe bless and boost the fucking lit teachers out there because my poor students are entering math class with lit skills 6 grades under where they should be and are genuinely unable to interact with straightforward STEM instructions. My college had every ed major take a ‘teaching literacy’ class and sure I passed but the thing is. I’m not really the person that’s supposed to catch these kids on that subject. I’m supposed to be a secondary math teacher. So a lot of the advice in that class simply wasn’t applicable and I wish it was!!! I’d be happy to help in that subject but also I WAS TRAINED TO BE A MATH TEACHER. AND MOST LITERACY AND LANGUAGE DIFFICULTY COURSES ARE NOT DESIGNED WITH STEM IN MIND. (Which is why I want to learn enough Spanish that I can teach kids learning English math as well because that’s an area that doesn’t get a lot of crossover and a lot of kids fall through).

Well this turned into a ramble goodnight lmao. I’d say this was a decently microwaved thought track lol

[jieas]

japanese national team wrestlers...

[f1nneas]

I love you Jesse from pitch perfect

[thrilling-oneway]

we're so fucking back

[cyber333angel]

like imagine sugar daddy! rafe begging to eat you out after rinsing his money on yu x

i would die i think x

-🎀

⋆｡ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡

you had just finished shopping with rafe at a couple of different stores, ending your journey at one of your favorite places, victoria secret. he had already spoiled you too much today but it was always worth it.

so as your walking around the shop pointing out what you liked, you decided you wanted to try a few sets on to make sure it would fit. rafe sat down next to the dressing room with your bags bought from expensive brands, places only kooks could afford, waiting as you tried on the pretty lingerie. they all fit perfectly except one was pretty hard to zip so you asked for help, “rafe could you come in here please? quick!” you yell to him, he picks up his head from his phone and walks into the large stall, locking the door behind him. “i just need you to zip this up. i think the zipper jammed-“ you stop talking for a moment, watching rafe in the mirror in front of you stare you down head to toe. “rafey! are you listening?” and he snaps from the trance. “yeah..yeah im listening kid. turn around.” you do as your told as rafe walks up to you, bracing his hand on your shoulder as he pulls the he zipper up.

you squeal looking at yourself, happy of how the lingerie fits. “oh em gee! rafe doesn’t this make me look so pretty! what do you think?” you turn to look up at him but jerk your head back a bit when he grabs you by the waist inching himself closer to you. “this little get-up is for me hm princess? teasing me because you wanted daddy to touch you?” rafe asked you with a stern voice, his sudden actions make you fluster.

the two of you had agreed on a strictly money based relationship when you first started out, having you attend all the prestigious events to impress the kooks with his pretty girl on his side. but over the weeks you noticed he would look at you and hint things in a way that was not so professional. “no rafe! remember we said no sex and that this was only a business relationship?!” you tell him, although you were only trying to convince yourself at this point. “business relationship my ass you know you want more than that. why don’t you let me make you feel good huh? you look so pretty for me..” you look at him hesitantly, “I don’t know rafey..” and he twists his head to the side. “please baby?” his begging getting the best of you, you nod knowing what he said before was right and rafe flashes you a handsome smile. “theres my good girl.”

you sat in the chair that was in the dressing room, your legs spread out in front of his face as he lapped at your soaked folds. he had taken the lower part of your lingerie off, carful not to ruin it so he could buy it after he was done with you.

you were barely able to contain your moans as he sucked on your bud, his biceps wrapped around your legs forcing your heat to be close to his face. rafe mumbled little nothings under his breath, praising you. “taste so fucking good for daddy baby ..” you mewled at him, squirming around the chair and arching your back as he held you in place, “stay fuckin still alright?” he told you, pausing for a moment to get your response and you nod frantically. “mm yes daddy m’trying!” and the brunette goes back to licking stripes up into your cunt. “let’s hurry this up yeah?” you whine and cover your mouth as he takes two fingers, plunging them into your heat.

rafe thrusts his fingers in and out of your pussy, urging you to cum and you hump at his fingers, making rafe chuckle, “you really want to cum huh needy girl?” you ignore him as he places little kisses to your sloppy cunt making your hips buck. rafe sucks at your sensitive bud a few more times and you cum, your slick covering the bottom on his chin leaving you out of breath.

rafe licks the arousal of his fingers but sees you spread out on the chair out of breath. suddenly taking your jaw with his other hand and shoving the wet digits into your mouth. “taste how fuckin sweet you were for me..” you moan quietly around his fingers, slurping up the juices left as he looks at you.

he takes his fingers from your mouth, helping you clean you up and puts the lingerie set back in your shopping basket to pay for at the cashier desk. “lets go pay sweetheart. ” he tells you.

[honeyryewhiskey]

it's just a stupid holiday

abt, dean takes his cupid to a valentine's gala, where a rogue angel has been preying on adulterers. you're just excited to be part of the chaos, and dean is trying desperately to keep his focus on the mission and not on his bubbly lovebird wrapped in a little red dress. what could possibly go wrong with this situation?  cw, grumpyxsunshine go on a fake date  ! dean practicing restraint ! and failing bc this stupid cupid is just so sweet ! fluff !  mentions of violence but no gruesome details, mdni, 18+  3.9k words

“i still don’t get why it has to be me doing this crap,” dean groans, shifting uncomfortably in his usual seat behind the impala’s wheel. his fingers drum against it as he scowls out the windshield.

sam, sitting to his right, doesn’t bother looking up from the stack of papers he’s reviewing. “because you’re better at the whole…” he gestures vaguely, searching for the right words, “pretending-to-be-charming-with-women thing.”

dean snorts, tossing his brother a sideways glare. “gee, thanks, sammy. real boost to the ‘ol self-esteem.” he rolls his eyes and adjusts the rearview mirror—only to catch a glimpse of you in the backseat.

that stupid dress. that strappy, red, distracting dress. you’re busy fiddling with the silky hem, completely oblivious to the way it hugs you in all the right places.

dean clears his throat sharply. fidgeting with his suit tie, he forces his eyes back to the road. “hey, cupid,” he growls, trying to sound annoyed instead of flustered. “remember, this is a job. we’re not going to this thing to drink champagne and play house. we’re hunting. focus.”

you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of their seat. a playful grin spreads across your lips as you reach out to pinch his cheek. “oh, dean, don’t you worry,” you assure, ignoring his quick swat at your hand. “i’ll be the best hunting partner ever. all business. no play.”

you deepen your voice, mimicking his usual gruff tone. “just like you.”

dean groans louder this time, and sam smirks faintly without looking up.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the plan for tonight? attend some high society valentine’s night gala as dean’s date, while sam kept watch of the perimeter. honestly all you really heard was sam and dean entrusting you to go undercover on a hunt with them—and you smiled so hard your cheeks ached (to which the brothers again started bickering about whether or not including you was a good idea). then they explained the holiday, humans practically worshipping cupids for a day, the excitement thrummed through you so hard you damn near passed out right there in the middle of the war room. 

sam and dean made it sound so straightforward, but as you walked into the venue—your arm looped through a stiff and uncomfortable dean’s—it became glaringly obvious this event would be anything but simple.  

red and pink heart shaped balloons spilled out from the entrance, framing a sleek red carpet scattered with rose petals that guided you into the heart of the party. the ballroom was enormous, yet nearly every inch of the room was drenched in lavish decor—flowers, jewels, endless shades of red and pink. a sizable crowd mingled beneath the dazzling display, their chatter blending harmoniously with the soft, elegant symphony flowing from the orchestra on stage. 

a small gasp left your painted lips as you took everything in, “this is incredible.”

dean, watching you carefully as your eyes darted from one dazzling detail to the next, murmured, “yeah, sure is.” his voice was barely audible in that soft tone. 

you peeled your gaze away from the galore, meeting his with that sugary sweet smile that makes his knees grow weak. “this is really all for cupids and love?” 

his brows cock as he considers your words, trying for once to not immediately destroy the innocence beaming from your eyes with his charmingly pessimistic perspective on, well, everything. “yeah,” he clears his throat, his arm slipped from yours, absentmindedly raising his hand to push the stray hairs that had fallen in your face, he hated when anything—anything at all—hid that view. “all of this exists because of what you lovebirds do to us.” 

you’ve gotten sharper in the weeks you’ve spent with the winchesters. picking up on what they call sarcasm and double meanings isn’t the easiest, but you’ve become so observant of dean you can almost feel it when he says one thing, and inside guards his true emotions. something in the way his face tightens, how deep of a breath he takes to release the stress, you’re not even sure if he’s aware of these tells but you know better than to clue him in on your cheat codes for decoding this ever-complicated man. 

dean sighs, slipping his hands into his dress pants as his eyes scanned the crowd, “alright little angel, let’s—”

you’re about ten feet away before he can finish his sentence, bee-lining to a side table overflowing with chocolate boxes, teddy bears, bouquets, flower-shaped ornaments, and so many little cherubs adorning nearly every item. 

a woman dressed in crisp black and white approached you with a polite smile, balancing a platter of dainty, bite-sized cakes. “please, help yourself to anything you’d like. mr. and mrs. nightingale donated all of these lovely trinkets for our guests.” 

“uh, we’re good on toys, thanks.” a gruff voice booms over your shoulder. dean snakes one arm around your waist as he reaches out with his free hand, swiping two mini cakes off the platter. the woman shot him a withering glare before turning away. 

“here.” he muttered, plopping one of the treats into your open palm, devouring the other in one bite. 

“but, dean,” you whine, dropping the cake onto the table and reaching for a plush brown bear sitting front and center. 

dean’s grip around your waist tightened, pulling you snug against his chest. the sudden shift made you wobble on the cherry-red heels you’d only recently learned to walk in.

“nuh uh.” he hums, low and firm. “business, lovebird. focus.” 

your pouted lips and narrowed eyes meet his steady squint—a silent warning for you to cut it out. 

“fine.” you whimper, giving the bear one last wistful glance before turning reluctantly back to the crowd. “what are we doing again?” 

“trying to figure out who the next victim is, while sam watches for the angel.” leaning down so only you could hear. his breath on your ear sends little sockwaves down your spine, his tone low to avoid drawing attention from the nearby guests. “think your cupid crap can sniff out any cheaters in the crowd?” 

your brows knit as you try to focus your energy on observing with your angel vision. you can’t necessarily see or smell infidelity, but there are glittering strings that exist between connected humans and only a cupid is capable of detecting them. 

slowly, the ballroom came alive before your eyes, dozens of ribbons in gold, red, white, and silver weaving through the spaces between bodies. each color represents a distinct bond woven in fate. but the sheer number of people packed so tightly together made it difficult to pinpoint who belonged to what thread. the tangled web shifted and shimmered, overwhelming your senses as you struggled to unravel it. 

“i can’t smell infidelity,” you state plainly, your tone clipped as you strain to focus on the red strings in particular. a throbbing begins in your head, growing sharper with each passing second. “There’s red, but—”

the throbbing quickly escalates into a pounding ache, forcing you to release the energy of the room. your vision shifts back to that of a mortal’s as your hands instinctively clutch dean’s arm for support.

he reacts instantly, turning you to face him as his strong hands steady your swaying form at the waist. “hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice low but firm, concern flashing in those jade-green eyes as they search your face for an answer.

“i can’t, dean, i’m not really strong enough to read this many people,” your eyes find the floor, feeling too embarrassed to meet his gaze, “the energy, it just kinda pushes me out.” 

when cas left you with the brothers, he failed to mention that you were a bit of a heaven reject. a cupid with faulty powers—and the whole issue with you not always wanting to follow heavenly orders. cas saw something in you, at least, and you hoped that the winchesters would, too. 

“c’mere.” dean huffs, locking your fingers in his as he guides you down another hall. you step into a smaller room where a few people are scattered about on lavish couches and chairs. standing slightly behind you he places a reassuring hand on the small of your back he leans over your shoulder, “try it in here.”

with a nod you focus again, dean’s thumb rubs against your back soothingly, his other hand tightly wrapped over the top of yours as he watches you with care. again the room is dancing with ribbons, but the power isn’t nearly as overwhelming. “there’s a lot of gold in here.” you speak without looking away from the crowd, a smile finding your lips as you notice the elderly couples bound in glittering gold. 

“what’s that mean?” 

“purity turned everlasting.” you release his hand to face him, unable to contain the smile on your lips as you describe the phenomenon that makes you most excited to be a cupid, “they were fated with white strings, or bonds, to have something sweet between them, a simple fling or a good marriage. but it could have easily turned red and fragile from something like cheating, and it didn’t. these souls will probably find themselves in the same heaven, now, because of their commitment to the bond.”  

dean grins down at you, catching the way your excitement practically vibrates through your body. truthfully, it all sounded like a load of crap to him. but then there’s you—with that unbound energy, one he’s certain no one else—angel or human—could ever replicate. the way your infatuation with love seems so genuine, so pure, it softens parts of him that have been hardened for years, wound tightly in cynicism for the very thing you embody.

before he can stop himself, his mind drifts. he’s already considering leaving sam to handle the case on his own, just for one night, so he can watch you explore this world with that wide-eyed wonder. to see you smile up at him like that a little longer.

and maybe—just maybe—to catch a few more glimpses of you prancing around in that little dress, oblivious to the way it rides up your thighs when you move, or how your bouncing excitement causes… other things to bounce right along with you.

dean clenches his jaw, mentally reprimanding himself as he forces his gaze away from you. focus, winchester. focus.

“so, you’re saying we need to find red bonds or whatever,” he mutters, working to keep his voice steady. “but you can’t see ’em with all those people in there.”

you nod, watching him closely as he weighs his options.

“uh-huh,” he breathes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “guess that means we’ll have to chat up some of the drunk old birds with loose lips.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

dean’s plan worked. after about an hour of mingling with the party guests, the two of you find yourselves on the edge of the crowd, watching a middle-aged married couple whom numerous women had whispered about. rumors swirled of the wife and her tennis coach, the husband and his secretary—long trips taken without the other, late nights at the office. all the signs of mutual betrayal.

the exact kind of relationship the rogue angel has been targeting. 

“classic,” dean mutters, eyes narrowing as he observes the couple, now mingling on opposite ends of the room. his stance is tall and stiff, locked in hunter mode.

you tilt your head, less focused on the case and more on the glittering display of treats and trinkets catching your eye a few tables away. a quick glance confirms dean is too busy scowling at the couple to notice you quietly slip off.

the desserts are as extravagant as the rest of the party, each treat adorned with ribbons and delicate designs. A small card catches your attention: cordial cherries. intrigued, you pop one into your mouth. the sugary red juice takes you by surprise, spilling down your chin and all over your fingertips. 

the flavor is sweet against your tongue, the chewy red center tart in contrast. you reach for another, taking it whole, and another for good measure, needing more of that sugary taste. you hadn’t heard dean approach, closing in on you with a confused scowl etched into his brows.

“love,” dean’s gruff voice startles you, his hand suddenly grasping your sticky chin to turn your face towards his, “you’re making a mess.”

embarrassed, you freeze, cheeks flushed as you glance up at him with cherry-stained lips. dean’s eyes darken slightly, flicking down to your mouth as he brushes his thumb along your sticky chin. without a second thought, he sucks the sugary residue off his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours. 

a strange, warm sensation blooms in your chest—and lower—making your eyes widen in surprise. that was a new feeling, and something about dean’s expression told you now probably wasn’t the time to ask him about it. 

dean looks over his shoulder toward the couple again, his expression unreadable. looking back to you, he sighs. “bathroom,” he nods to the corner, “now.” he orders, his voice a little rougher than usual. 

You pout but follow him obediently, weaving through the crowd until you slip into the lavishly decorated restroom. Dean locks the door behind you, the click of the latch oddly loud in the quiet space. In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your reflection—smudged lipstick, syrupy streaks trailing down your chin, and little splotches on the swell of your breasts.

without a word dean is behind you, in the reflection his face is blank, barely hiding his agitation. he spins you to face him, his pupils eating away at the green of his eyes. his hands find your hips and in one motion you’re seated on top of the porcelain space between the sinks. 

“‘m sorry, dean.” you mumble, looking down at your hands in lap, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he grunts a ‘mhm’ in response, making that warmth in your center morph into a ball of anxiety. the feeling you usually get after doing something terribly wrong, and dean gets that familiar scowl and grumpy tone. 

like he is now, except he usually isn’t this quiet. 

he comes back to you with a handful of wet paper towels. his eyes are focused on your lips as he wipes away the lipstick and sticky sugar. 

“stop pouting like that.” he grumbles, folding the paper before dragging it down your chin. his hand stops, eyes flicking between your chest and eyes for a moment before he’s handing the paper over to you, “you can get the rest.” 

as you dab at the mess on your chest, the silence stretches between you, weighted by unspoken thoughts. your mind drifts back to the couple in the ballroom, their entwined red strings sullied by betrayal.

“why do they do that?” you ask softly, breaking the quiet, “that couple, why do they do that to each other?” 

dean shrugs, standing between your legs with his arms crossed. “just what people do, lovebird. it’s not something i can really explain. everyone makes choices for their own reasons, hell, they probably don’t even know why they do that to each other.” 

you nod, mulling over his words. “i wouldn’t make those choices,” you say after a moment. “if I could be human, i wouldn’t waste it. What they have… it’s a gift.”

dean chuckles dryly, “and somehow i believe you, little angel. but being human isn’t all kittens and rainbows, mortality sucks. our emotions suck. and making the right choices, it—it’s hard.” 

“but you get to feel,” you say, your voice softening. “you get to fall in love. those emotions are what make humans so… special. sometimes i wish i could feel that.” you pause, suddenly shy. “maybe that’s why I’m not a very good cupid. i get too distracted by all these questions.”

Dean’s gaze softens, his arms uncrossing, planting his strong hands on either side of you, leaning closer. “You’re not a bad cupid,” he says gruffly, fighting with himself to sound more gentle than usual. “you care, a whole lot. if it were up to me, i’d say that’s not a bad thing.”

before you can respond, the ring of dean’s phone echos in the room, shattering the tension. he pulls away to retrieve it out of his pocket, scowling at the screen. “sam says the angel’s outside. we need to move.”

his hand finds yours, instinctively, tugging you out of the room and through the crowd. dean is locked into hunter mode again, his entire body on high alert as he’s practically dragging you across the ballroom.  

reaching the furthest wall, large windows give view to an expansive flower garden shimmering under the moonlight. a rather beautiful sight, where each bush is perfectly trimmed to line the weaving cobblestone paths. dean pauses at the door, looking back at you with a look that makes you wonder if he’s about to be sick.

before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s dropping your clasped hands, “just—stay in here. keep watch of the people while sam and i handle this.” 

“what?” you begin, flustered. sam and dean had spent days prepping you for whatever might happen. you learned how to actually use your own angel blade, the one you only carried around because it was an order but had never intended on using. dean taught you how to shoot his guns, and despite your distaste for their sharp sounds and harsh rebound—you sucked it up because the boys were trusting you. “no! i’m in this, too, remember? i can help—”

“no.” his voice is stern, his mind already made. he was giving you that look again, that made you feel like a helpless baby. it was comforting when it got him to ease up on you for little mistakes, but right now it was annoying. irritating, because you finally felt like you’d get to prove your worth with this hunt. 

“dean—” you start, but the door swings shut behind him before you can finish. with an exasperated groan, you rush to a near by window, heart pounding as you watch him dart down the shadowed path. 

the moment he’s out of sight, a sick twist of nerves coils in your stomach. seconds stretch into centuries, a burning lump rising in your throat as your imagination runs wild. then, movement catches your eye in the darkness.

dean’s body flies through the air, crashing hard into the ground like a ragdoll. 

your breath stutters. you’ve never witnessed a hunt before—not firsthand—but you’ve seen the aftermath. bruises, cuts, even broken bones you’d healed despite dean’s gruff protests against your divine touch helping him.

he struggles back to his feet, but he’s too slow. the angel—a tall, imposing figure in a crisp suit—stalks towards him with eerie precision, circling like a predator toying with its prey. from your vantage point, the angel’s back is turned to you. that’s all the opening you need.

without thinking, you dart for the door. the cool night air sends goosebumps rippling over your skin, the chill mixing with the nervous heat burning inside you. you catch sam out of the corner of your eye, lying on the ground further up the path and groggily coming back to consciousness as he sits up. 

stopping short, you kick off one of your cherry-red heels, gripping it tightly in your hand. it may not be a bow, but you’re still an archer—and this will have to do. with a flick of your wrist, you send the stiletto flying through the air.

the heel collides sharply with the back of the angel’s head. he stumbles slightly before spinning around, fury etched into his face as his silver blade flashes in the moonlight.

fear floods your system, making your knees weak. you’re not sure if it’s bravery or recklessness keeping you standing as he charges towards you. but your distraction is enough.

dean is on his feet again, blade in hand. with one swift motion, he drives it deep into the angel’s neck. the being’s body flickers with light before crumpling to the ground, lifeless.

for a moment, everything is still. to stand frozen, gawking at the scene before you as dean slowly staggers back, panting heavily. when his eyes find yours, they’re sharp with anger. with a huff he’s crossing the grass towards you, that grumpy scowl having taken over his pretty features. 

“dean, i—i’m sorry, but—”

he closes the distance in two long strides, hands cupping either side of your face. the firmness in his touch makes your breath catch in your throat. before you can say anything more, he gently tugs, pressing two rough kisses to your forehead.

you blink up at him, your thoughts a buzzing, tangled mess. 

“save it, lovebird. i know.” he sighs, dropping his hands. his voice is gruff but softer than you expect, his relief shining through the cracks of his frustration. “just never do that again.” 

sam slowly approaches, sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek. his expression wavers between amused and impressed. “nice shot, cupid. i told dean you’d come through.”

“shut it, sammy.” dean snaps back, his scowl deepening as he glances over his shoulder at the angel’s body. “let’s get rid of the angel’s body and get the hell out of here.” 

you bite back a sheepish grin, slipping your remaining shoe off to follow behind the brothers. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

back at the bunker…

you had tried, several times, to get out of the stupid red dress. the thin straps came loose from your shoulders easily enough. but the damn zipper in the back was just out of your reach, no matter how you twisted or stretched, it remained out of grasp. the nice lady at the dress shop who helped you get into the damn thing, wasn’t around to get you out of it. 

with an annoyed huff, you padded barefoot out of your room and down the hall, the hem of the dress swishing faintly with every step. you stopped in front of dean’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. 

there was a pause, followed by a muffled shuffling sound. the door swung open, dean took up most of the door frame clad in an old band shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from sleep and his expression distinctly unimpressed.

“what?” he grumbles, voice rough and gravelly, clearly annoyed at having been woken up. 

“i need help,” you whine, turning your back to him and gesturing over your shoulder. “i can’t get to the stupid zipper.”

he let out a long-suffering sigh, but his rough finger tips brush against your skin as he grips the top of your dress in one hand and tugged the zipper down with the other. 

you’re not really used to wearing dresses, and you’re too tired to think about how, y’know, gravity works. 

the silky red material drops to the floor, pooling over your feet. “oh.” you mumbled, looking down at the discarded dress. 

“jesus,” dean muttered, his voice strained. when you looked back at him, his eyes were fixed firmly on the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together as if trying to keep a lid on something. 

a wicked giggle bubbled up before you could stop it. ��thanks, dean!” you chirp, abandoning the dress on the floor and darting down the hall in nothing but your pink underwear. 

the sound of his exasperated cursing followed you, echoing against the hall as your laughter trailed behind. 

[layeredshirts]

This is the month of Heartslabyul evidently.

We're getting a Rapzunel themed event with Riddle as the SSR! The themes of alienation, children asserting identity, and what we owe one another are not lost on me, they're prominent in both works. Rapunzel is the tale of a girl who initially believes herself to just be sheltered before realizing that she's actually stunted by her relationship to her mother who fails to create an identity separate from her daughter. Riddle is also treated as an extension of his mother's desires and hopes, metaphorically siphoning away his magic oh em gee

[jianwon]

touch ups and downs

sypnosis. the usual chaos fades away when se-mi, the captivating actress, steps into your makeup station. her playful teasing and effortless charm unravel your carefully built composure, leaving you flustered. an unexpected gesture makes you confront feelings you hadn’t anticipated, leaving you questioning if this connection could be more than fleeting, one that might change everything.

part 2 part 3

content— actress!se-mi x fem!makeupartist!reader. pure fluff. flirting and romantic tension. mentions of squid game characters.

disclaimer. story is entirely fictional and in no way reflects real events, individuals, or their relationships. characters mentioned are fictional representations based on their on-screen personas.

wordcount. 1.2k

the backstage area of the set was its own ecosystem, a controlled, buzzing chaos where the cast and crew functioned like cogs in a well-oiled, frenzied machine. green tracksuits were tossed onto racks, props were lost and found within minutes, and coffee cups piled up in forgotten corners. yet somehow, amidst the mess, you managed to carve out your own calm at your makeup station. it wasn’t much, just a small table cluttered with palettes, brushes, and bottles of setting spray.

your mornings were always the same, actors trickling in, each with their own quirks and complaints. today started with thanos, who planted himself in your chair with a dramatic groan.

“y/n-ah, you have no idea how much my body hurts,” he grumbled, stretching his arms as if he’d just run a marathon.

"maybe tone it down a bit and try not to act like such a daredevil." you teased, dipping your brush into some fake blood. "hey, i was trying to stay in character!” he protested, puffing his chest out like a proud schoolboy.

“your character dies in episode seven. what exactly were you preparing for?” nam-gyu chimed in from across the room, already in his disheveled tracksuit and inspecting himself in the mirror.

the two men launched into a mock argument while you worked, and you couldn’t help but laugh. the cast was like a dysfunctional family, always bickering, but never seriously. you’d become fond of their antics, even when they slowed you down.

when min-su walked in, grumbling about his hair as usual, the chaos only increased. "this look makes me look like i’m auditioning for a k-pop parody group,” he complained, plopping into the chair next to nam-gyu's.

myung-gi, who was already seated and scrolling on his phone, didn’t even look up before saying, “that’s an improvement from your regular look." the room erupted in laughter as min-su glared at him. “don’t make me mess up your makeup, hyung.”

“not before i do,” you muttered, adjusting his hair until it sat perfectly. “there. now you look less like a coconut.”

“gee, thanks,” min-su said with mock offense, though he grinned at you.

as the morning chaos gave way to quieter moments, you felt your heart do its usual nervous flip when se-mi entered the room. even amidst the energy of the set, se-mi had a presence that demanded attention. everything about her, her walk, her gaze, the effortless way she carried herself. they were magnetic.

“is it my turn yet, artist-nim?” she called with a playful nickname she’d teasingly given you, her voice cutting through the hum of activity like a soft melody. you swallowed hard and nodded, motioning to her chair. “y-yeah, come on over.”

"ready to work your magic and make me pretty?" she asks, settling into the chair with a grin. her fingers sweep through her short hair, brushing it back effortlessly. "pretty? you barely need me for that," you blurt out with a nervous snort, before immediately freezing, your cheeks heating up as the weight of your words sinks in.

"oh?" se-mi tilts her head back suddenly, her eyes locking onto yours. the unexpected movement makes you jump, nearly stumbling over your own feet.

"you're still nervous today," she observes, her voice light but her tone teasing. her gaze shifts to your reflection in the mirror, and her smirk deepens. "i can tell."

“i’m not nervous.” you lied, picking up a brush and focusing intently on your palette. she teased, leaning forward slightly. “then why are your hands shaking?”

your breath caught as you realized she was right. you forced yourself to steady your grip, determined not to let her fluster you any more than she already had. “just… stay still,” you managed, your voice quieter than usual.

as you leaned in to contour her cheekbones, se-mi tilted her head slightly, her smirk deepening. “you’re really good at this, you know,” she said, her tone softer now. “but you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from blurting something stupid. “thanks..” you muttered, with a soft smile, focusing on blending the makeup perfectly.

for a moment, the usual backstage chaos seemed to blur into the background. the distant chatter and clatter of equipment faded, replaced by the steady, deafening drumbeat of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. it was just the two of you, the air thick with an unspoken tension that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

“you’re blushing” se-mi whispered, breaking the spell. you pulled back abruptly, your face burning. “am not!” you said, though your voice betrayed you.

se-mi chuckled, a low, melodic sound that made your stomach do flips. “cute..” she said under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

the day moved forward, and with each passing hour, you grew more aware of the fact that it was se-mi’s final scene. she was one of the last actors to wrap, and the air backstage felt bittersweet. the rest of the cast had taken turns congratulating her, but when it came to your turn, you found yourself hesitating.

you watched from the monitors as she delivered her final scene, her performance so raw and emotional that it left a lump in your throat. when the director called cut, applause erupted on set, and se-mi smiled, wiping away tears as the crew cheered.

you were waiting at your station when she walked back, still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “you okay?” you asked softly, holding out a pack of makeup wipes.

“yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but steady. “it just… doesn't feel real, you know?”

you nodded, unsure of what to say. instead, you focused on helping her clean off the remnants of her makeup and splatters of fake blood on her face, your hands moving with practiced precision.

“you were incredible,” you said after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. se-mi looked at you, her gaze soft but intense. “thanks,” she said. “that means a lot coming from you.”

you hesitated, then blurted, “i’m really going to miss you.” her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but her smile quickly returned. “oh? gonna miss my face in your chair every day?”

“not just that,” you admitted, fiddling with the edge of the makeup wipe in your hand. “i’ll miss… you. it’s been nice having you around.”

se-mi studied you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, without a word, she reached over to the counter, grabbed a pen, and scribbled something on the edge of a makeup chart. she folded it neatly and handed it to you.

“what’s this?” you asked, your hands trembling slightly as you took it. “my number,” she said simply, her tone warm but teasing. “call me sometime, y/n. i think you’re cute.” your jaw dropped, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “but don’t tell anyone, okay? gotta keep my cool image intact.”

she winked and walked off before you could respond, leaving you frozen in place with the paper clutched tightly in your hand. the chaos of backstage continued around you, but all you could focus on was the faint scent of se-mi’s perfume lingering in the air and the fluttering in your chest.

a/n— just letting you all know that my requests are open ! feel free to send me anything :)

[tzihomara]

hc, + slight ooc (oh em gee im highkey coping..)

bipolarbpd!gojo

thinking about post prisonrealm gojo who’s emotional regulation definitely, if not obviously has gotten worse. if killing his own best friend wasn’t enough trauma, seeing your dead best friend before you’re sealed allll alone, for three, long, agonizing years. cluttered in the bones of the hopeless, fearful souls that came before him most definitely was.

it’s not as if him being emotionally dysregulated wasn’t a shock to anyone close enough to him. from being born the strongest in his clan, and frankly one of the most powerful sorcerers currently, without a doubt it comes with its tax. whether it be emotional, physical, mental, and you can already tell what department gojo is paying in. 

familiarizing yourself with the how he’s been behaving since. sometimes he has that vacant look in those gorgeous blue eyes. the best way you could put it, was that he was mordant, a lack of what his overly silly personality fronted as. though with you, he’s different. harder to read. but you’re trying. still keeping his mostly quiet, erratic, held together demeanor. lurking, following you around, always keeping a strong forearm hooked around your hips, or your ribs. his cheek pressed to the side of your temple, eyes lingering with disinterest on whatever you’re doing, just wanting to be near you and zoning out the rest of what’s happening. those are how most of his days are spent. though, it dosent seem eventful, days with nothing going on could turn into everything with him. it merely depends on the day, maybe even the hour too. there’s been countless days where you slipping a little too far from him, out of his reach and just barely past the tips of his fingers has turnt into desperate n ‘ needy  hands yanking you closer, suffocated between your counter and satoru. one arm leaning on the counter, and the other hand smothering the left side of your face. pink flushed cheek pressed to yours as he pants out little sniffled curses n’ gasps whilst his cock achingly fucks into your cunt, nudging the tip of your cervix. unabashed and showing his vulnerability, letting you help, the only person he’d dare let handle his heart. he didn’t even know why he was crying, maybe because of how good you feel, or maybe it’s all the things he’s feeling..most likely a combination. crying from how his body rushes with insecurity, confusion, irritation, everytime you’re even slightly apart from him. how you can make everything go from 100 to 0 whenever he needs it the most. always at his side, you’re basically what’s keeping him functioning as best to his ability. keeping him sane even right now, taking all his frustration and fear away, making you take every inch to remind himself of what he still and will always have, what’s been there for him through all the losses, incidents, and more. 

you !

my masterlist for more .ᐟ psa: dont romantizice illnesses you dont have

ⓘ  all right’s reserved, do not republish, edit, or translate my work.  

[lessi-lover]

ice baths II g.stanway x reader

quick one i wrote during a car trip, so excuse any grammatical errors. enjoy my georgia lovers x

★ ice baths II g.stanway x reader

"comin down for the ice baths love?" your girlfriend asked, as you closed the book you were reading. you chuckled lightly at her request, leaning backwards to rest on your forearms. "absolutely not." you said brushing off her question.

"please baby! c'mon, don't be a wuss." she jested, nudging your elbow so you fell backwards onto the mattress. "gee, no." you pleaded, as she swung her leg over your body, effectively pinning your arms under her thighs. "not until you say you'll come down." she retorted, pinching your cheeks mockingly.

you couldn't help but feel a smile creeping onto your face, as the girl continued to poke at your sides, yourself unable to smack them away. "get off you toad," you said with a laugh, trying to sound stern but failing to sound serious enough. "a toad? a toad she calls me?" the blonde said, waving her hands around as if she was asking questions to a crowd.

she leant down her hair cascading around your face. she pressed her lips to your face, placing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. her hips lifted slightly, allowing your hands to sneakily slide out from under her legs. "yuck, gee!" you slapped your hands against her thighs, still not able to push her body off your own.

"admit it. you're afraid of a little cold water." she teased, but not before scowling at you mocking her british pronunciation. "not doin yourself any favours love." you pouted, trying desperately to look anywhere but up at the blonde. she grabbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact.

"but i'll turn into an ice cube!" you said dramatically, a fake pout forming on your face. "ice eh? i think you'd make a pretty ice cube darlin." she grinned, she leaned down again, this time pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"fine." you mumbled defeatedly. your girlfriends brows shot up and she bent down to place a series of short kisses all over your face, finally finishing with a feverish kiss, pulling a giggle from your lips. "but make it quick though. and you owe me a coffee later," you bargained.

her hips finally lifted, allowing you to slip out from under her, settling against the headboard. "sure thing love," she grabbed your hand placing it near her ear, silently asking you to play with her hair, your fingers beginning to weave through it.

"god given ability i put up with you stanway." you finished with a slight tug on her roots, grinning as you stood, making your way to the hotel closet. you looked over your phone, before hearing your girlfriend's pleas. "baby don't call me that. y'know i don't like it." she whined, a small put appearing on her lips. "sorry, gee." you apologised, moving to stand in between her legs.

your hands lay on her thighs, looking down at her with a sweet smile. "sorry pookie?" you said questioningly. you burst into a fit of giggles at the shocked face of the blonde. "oh come on! don't give us that!" she complained, slapping your chest when your laughter didn't stop.

"sorry, my gorgeous, lovely, beautiful, charming, pretty girl." you replied. leaning down to press a kiss against her lips, removing the pout she almost always wore. "that's better darlin." she said with a satisfied smirk, matching the smug twinkle in her eyes. you couldn't help but smile back, reveling in the moment, before you remembered you had promised help ella pick a dress for an event next week.

"gotta go, my love." you said sadly, pushing off her knee. "no love! who? where?" she exclaimed, hands wrapping around your waist pulling you face first into her chest. "to el. i need to help her find a pair of heels." you muffled into her shirt, finding it hard to breathe with how tight she was holding you.

"but i wanted you to stay with me!" she scowled, hands now locked around you, preventing you from leaving her arms. "you'll do just fine on your own, baby." you smiled, grabbing her cheeks and gently tapping them with your hands. she rolled her eyes, pouting at you which you kissed away. "bye baby", she mumbled unhappily, watching as you opened the door.

"bye, pookie." "y/n!"

~

"el, i don't see the problem. nobody is even going to see your heels with how long your dress is." you complained. the mancunian making you go through a slideshow worth of different heels, unable to decide on a pair herself, she seeked your help. "i don't care! cmon, your meant to be a fashion wizard or somethin!" her accent now more pronounced over her words of frustration. she flopped backwards onto the bed, letting out a huff of defeat.

you laughed, flopping down next to her, moving her laptop to lay on both your laps. "okay, okay. fashion guru to the rescue!" you opened a tab showing a pair of sleek, black heels, showing her the different angles. "these are classic, they'll go with everything, and they aren't too over the top. and they won't be too uncomfortable if you want to dance."

ella sat up, bringing it onto her own lap, face smushed up against the screen. "you know what, i think you're onto something. they are pretty aren't they?" she frantically began putting in her card details, scared somebody would purchase the heels before her.

you laughed at her, patting her head and getting up too leave.

"bye tooney!" you waved off the younger girl, opening the door, water and phone in hand. the brunette hardly looked at you, giving a quick "bye, thanks for ya help," as she raced to call alessia, telling which pair of shoes she had finally chosen.

"i love you!" "love you too el."

~

the day had slipped past your fingers and before you knew it the afternoon had sadly arrived. after a multitude of texts from georgia you knew that if you weren't in the recovery room in at least two minutes, she'd be barreling down the stairs to get you herself.

passing millie and rachel on your way up the elevator, and by consequence you had to be the peacemaker between them, hearing their little 'fight' as the lift opened to their level.

they walked in, scowls on both of their faces. clearly they had been arguing for a while now. you prepared yourself, knowing that if anyone could be the bearer of a grudge, it was millie and rachel.

"you seriously think your pasta is better than mine? come on, rach." the english skipper said with a roll of her eyes. "well you know my sunday roasts tops! you couldn't do half as good as me even if you tried." they began arguing in front of you, their words turning into a blur with how much was being said.

you smacked your hand over the stop button, the lift coming to an abrupt halt. "millie, rach please." you exclaimed, trying to solve their petty argument, as well as trying to make it to georgia in time. "how about you both just accept that you're great cooks in your own ways?" you tried to reason with your stubborn teammates.

the two looked at each other, facing towards one another in the stopped lift. their expressions softened, as you waited in the anticipation. "she's right," rachel finally spoke. a sigh leaving your lips, as the shouting finally ceased. "finally." you whispered, a relieved smile on your face.

"your pasta is pretty good mills." "and your roast is amazing." "dinner on sunday at 7?" "sure rach."

the lift opened, both girls walking out, hand in hand, chatting about what they would cook for dinner on sunday.

you shook your head, knocking yourself out of your trance. your sneakers slipped against the carpet, your legs almost buckling from how fast you were running. you almost smashed into the door, your forehead slightly knocking into the glass.

taking a breath, you were relieved to open the door to find your girlfriend ready in her recovery shorts and top. you'd barely caught your breath when you heard georgia yell out from the changing room, "you'd better not be wussing out on me now!"

with a sigh you peeled off your slides, placing them next to the door and making your way to the bathroom. you wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder, turning your head to tuck into her neck. "comin for a swim are ya love?" she spoke, cheekily pecking your cheeks, as she took off her necklace.

"only because you're buying me a coffee." you answered, georgia pinching your sides, when she felt your smile into her neck. "come on, love." georgia clasped her hand with yours, grabbing two towels on your way out.

you shivered as you entered the room, the window frosted over. "ready babe?" she asked, an impish grin on her face as she stared at the pool. you nodded, though the thought of the icy water made you shiver to your core. she led you to the edge of the pool, her grip on your hand reassuring your nerves.

the air was freezing compared to the changing room, and you felt even more uneasy about the pool in front of you. "it's all in ya head, darling." she reminded you, squeezing your hand in case you didn't hear her.

with a deep breath, you both counted down together, "three, two, one," and jumped into the pool. the cold water enveloped you immediately, slicing through your skin like a knife. you both gasped, the shock of the temperature taking both your breaths away.

when you opened your eyes, still stinging from the water, you could faintly see georgia's body racing out of pool. she moved frantically, arms flailing around, scrambling to wrap herself in her towel. you couldn't help but laugh at the sight of your fully grown girlfriend running away from a little cold water.

"scared off a bit of cold water? you wuss." you laughed, georgia glared at you, her legs shivering. "out now. you'll freeze." she demanded, reaching out her arms to you. "no i think i'm alright?" you said sarcastically, arms weaving through the water as you moved away.

"come on. please, love." she pleaded. a pout forming on her face, as she tried to reach your moving body. your defiance only seemed to spur georgia on more. she stood at the end off the pool, her body slightly shaking, but still determined to get you out. "you're impossible." she muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

"you love me." you smirked, floating for a minute longer. "i do." she admitted, finishing with a sigh as she sat down on one of the pool chairs. "i'm not getting back in to drag you out," eyes begging you.

you swam over to her, accepting her extended hand. "help me out then, baby." she reached out both her arms, letting the towel fall to the floor. she grasped your wrists tightly, and you saw the perfect opportunity fall right into your hands, literally. with a quick pull, you tugged on her arms, bringing her tumbling into the water with a loud scream.

she thrashed around, water splashing over the sides of the pool, and onto your face. she emerged from the water, laughing as her dry body was now soaking wet again. "you're gonna pay for that one, love!" she exclaimed. now charging towards you, as your eyes widened and you began to swim away.

you tried to swim away, feeling a pair of arms wrap around your waist, as you were pulled back into her firm grip. caught like a fish in a net, you let georgia maneuver you around the pool, relaxing in her arms. despite the cold water, you could feel the heat radiating of her chest.

"not getting away that easy." she whispered in your ear, turning your chin to place a kiss to your lips. you giggled, her breath fanning against your ear, sweetly laying kisses along your neck. you turned around, now facing her, as your legs wrapped around her waist.

her hair was plastered on her face, water clinging to her cheeks, as your eyes traced over the freckles that littered her skin. you both laughed, she pulled your back towards her. face tucked into her neck, as she traced patterns on your thighs.

"who would have thought big, strong georgia would be scared of a little cold water?" you teased the blonde, playing with her loose strands of hair.

"we will never speak of this again."