#when i damn well know that if any of my friends saw us that afternoon they would've side eyed us SOOOOO HAARDDDDD

[saviorkink]

x

[zepskies]

Maybe More Than Enough

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve been a friend and ally to the Winchester brothers for years, but you and Dean break new ground while on a stakeout to catch a witch.

AN: Here’s another entry for @jacklesversebingo! It’s also based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @lacilou. 💜

Prompt: Window—Letter Opener—Binoculars

Request: I'd love to read about Dean and the reader who's his age or even a little older.

Song Inspo: “Over the Hills and Far Away” by Led Zeppelin

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, bit of hurt/comfort, bit of spice.~

💜 Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Discreetly from the passenger side of the car, you peered through the binoculars again. Your target was in view through the unusual circular window: an average looking white man in his fifties, peeling a tangerine from the comfort of his kitchen.

According to his driver’s license, his name was Martin Reynolds. Sam was investigating the sudden death of his wife, Laura, and the wives of two other men in the small town of Whitebury, Mississippi. Laura was the first victim, so you and Dean were watching Martin for any suspicious activity.

Your companion shifted in his seat. You could hear the give of the well-worn leather against denim. The Impala wasn’t exactly inconspicuous for a stakeout, but he refused to be trapped in your “tiny-ass” Toyota Camry all afternoon. You preferred the term compact.

“What’s our he-witch up to?” Dean asked.

Your lips twitched at a smile.

“We don’t know if he’s a witch,” you said, but you passed him the binoculars.

Dean’s mouth quirked to one side before he took a look. “Well, he probably isn’t a shifter.”

“What makes you say that?”

He gestured back at the window and gave you back the binoculars. You peered over and saw that Martin had half the tangerine in his mouth while he opened his mail with a letter opener. It flashed like silver in the afternoon light.

“If that is silver, it would rule out a lot of things,” you agreed, “but it still wouldn’t tell us why he killed his wife.”

Dean looked over as a white Porsche pulled into Martin’s driveway.

“Hmm, well, I’d say motive is comin’ in hot. Literally,” he said, watching intently when a young woman stepped out of the car. Her dress was as tight as the ponytail tied high on her head, a coil of blonde bouncing down her back.

You sighed, with a roll of your eyes. “Typical.”

You noticed the way Dean’s smirk wiped the boredom away from his eyes. It was annoyingly handsome, along with the neatly trimmed stubble across his cheeks, framing a strong jaw and the enticing bow of his lips. You had to resolve to ignore all of it, heaving a small sigh.

You wedged the binoculars between you both and toyed with the silver rings on your fingers—both a fashion statement and a safety precaution.

“Could be a demon deal,” you said. “Three men sporting Touch of Gray, three wives over 40.”

“Damn. That’s cold,” Dean shook his head, crossing his arms from the driver’s seat. Always from the driver’s seat. “That’d be pretty cut and dry though. Downright stereotypical.”

You gave him a smile. “Since when do you like it complicated?”

“Like it?” he scoffed. “What I like and what I get are on two different fucking hemispheres.”

You sensed bitterness there, underneath the dry remark. You looked away from the scene in the kitchen where Martin was pouring Barbie, his presumed girlfriend, a glass of white wine. Just like you thought, Dean’s brief good humor faded, falling into his resting state. It was a harder look than you were used to seeing on him over the years. His lighter, devil-may-care attitude in his younger days seemed to gain a little bit of edge every time you saw him next.

A few decades of bullshit, blood, and loss will do that to you.

But every time he called, you answered.

“You okay?” you asked. You tried to hide the depths of your concern, but maybe you just weren’t good enough. Dean glanced at you and forced his crunched brows to relax, as if he’d caught himself opening the hatch a little too much. Letting his true depths come to light a little too long.   

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he replied.

Sure. Always good.

You met him with a long look, your head rolling onto your shoulder.

“Hey. You can be honest with me, you know,” you reminded him. “What, you think I’m gonna tell Sam all your secrets?”

Dean smiled a little, but he shook his head, remaining stubborn.

“Look, I’m fine. Just the usual bullshit,” he said. “Nothing you gotta be dragged into.”

You frowned. “What, aside from this hunt? Aside from the last ten years of bailing your ass out?”

That last part was more joking. The truth was, Sam and Dean had helped you just as often as you’d tried to help them.

Now, Dean just shook his head. The fact that he didn’t levy back a smartass response further let you know that something was off with him. 

You bumped his arm lightly over his jacket.

“Come on, tell me all about your man feelings,” you teased. It had its intended effect, bringing a reluctant smile to Dean’s lips. He shot you a look, and you couldn’t help but admire how the dimming sun caught in his eyes, that pale green.

“Whatever. Like I said, I’m good,” he said, deflecting further by turning up his music. Yet another Led Zeppelin song was playing, but at least this one was more mellow. The guitar riff filled the car at a moderate volume. You guys were still on a stakeout, after all.

You shook your head, despite your smile. “You sound like a grumpy old man.”

His brows popped up. “Old?”

You shrugged impishly.

“‘Cause if I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a bit more mileage than I do,” he retorted.

You laughed, shoving his shoulder.   

“Well, that’s just rude,” you said. “You’re not even a year behind me. Matter of fact, you’re just a few steps shy of Touch of Gray in there. I can even help you find your shade. I’m thinking, what, medium brown with a hint of silver fox? Could be very George Clooney.”     

The disgruntled look on Dean’s face had you dying.

“Now that’s just uncalled for,” he said, even though his lips were curving upward at the sound of your laughter. Without you knowing, he took in the infectious sound, and the way you pressed the back of your hand against his arm while you tried to get ahold of yourself. It was everything he’d ever liked about you.

Easy. That was what it was, being with you.

The hard part always came afterward, watching you leave.

Letting you leave.

“It’s just…I don’t know,” you said, biting into your lower lip. You smudged your lipstick there, a dark, juicy red. It was distracting enough that Dean almost missed what you said next.

“You seem weighed down.” Your eyes were more serious then, beautiful and warm in their honesty. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’ve got fifty more pounds on your shoulders.”

Dean didn’t have an answer for you, even as he held your gaze.

His cell phone ringing cut through the guitar melody slowly fading into the next song. Dean fished it out of his pocket and answered Sam’s call.

“Hey, what’cha got?”

Your hunch proved correct. Sam tracked down the demon that made soul-claiming deals with a handful of men from the same golf club. All of them bored of their wives, and all of them with too much money on their hands—enough that they refused to lose any of it in a messy divorce.

It was like the opposite of the First Wives Club, and you were sickened.

When you and Dean questioned Martin, he felt just guilty enough to spill his guts.

Sam managed to gank the demon on his own, which left you and Dean with a conundrum: what to do with the marked men who sold their souls. No matter how much justice you thought they deserved, their souls were still damned to Hell either way. As Dean pointed out, that would be price enough to pay.

You were sour about it, but you let Martin and the rest of his scheming bastard friends go…after leaving him with a well-placed knee to the nads. At the very least, he wouldn’t be making any more scheming bastards anytime soon.

Dean was still smirking when you two piled into the Impala. Sam was waiting to be picked up at the bar across town, where he’d found the demon.

“Shut up already,” you laughed.

Dean shook his head, still grinning as he put the car in Drive.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Your smile remained, but not for long as you stared out the window. You liked the evening time, where there was still light enough to see, but the world was winding down in shades of orange-gold and violet. The streetlamps were slowly coming on, lighting the way along the road.

The car pulled to a stop at the red light, there at a busy intersection.

“Hey.”

Dean’s voice, deep and a little tired, caught your attention.

“You okay over there?” he asked. He was side-eying you again, this time in concern. You could see it behind the usual gruffness.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said. “Just makes me glad I never got married. Else I might’ve gotten shivved just so he could get out of paying alimony.”

Dean sucked his teeth. “Apparently it’s a bitch.”

You gave him a dry, withering look. He chuckled and briefly reached over to squeeze your arm.

“Hey, come on. That shit’s not happening to you,” he said. “He’d have to be dumb, deaf, and blind.”

You tilted your head at him, a small smile lighting up your face again. You couldn’t help the way your face warmed in a blush, especially with the way he was looking at you, all smirky and charming and unequivocally Dean.  

“Green light,” you reminded him.

He returned his attention to the road. His right hand was molded onto the steering wheel casually. His left rested on his thigh, while his fingers bounced to the beat of a song off his second favorite Zeppelin album. And you knew that, because he’d been playing it on repeat all day.

Many have I loved, and many times been bitten. Many times I've gazed along the open road…

You watched his profile, for a moment spellbound. The sky dimmed over his shoulder, casting him in both light and shadow, gold and dark.

“Have you ever…” You didn’t even know where you were going with this, but you’d already opened your mouth, and Dean was already glancing your way, with half his gaze on the road ahead.

“You ever gotten close to having something real? Someone who's not gonna shiv you when you’re fifty,” you said.

A laugh caught in his throat. “Hell, I never thought I’d see my forties, but here we are. Apparently I’m old.”

He shot you a wry look. You smiled.

“That’s one hell of a way to avoid the question,” you said.

Dean shook his head, this time with a sigh under his breath. For a second, you didn’t think he would answer you. You almost didn’t blame him.

The music filled the silence in between.

Mellow is the man who knows what he's been missing. Many, many men can't see the open road…

“Once,” Dean admitted. “I thought I had it, but uh…didn’t take.”

“Was she a hunter?” you asked.

Dean shook his head, his eyes staying on what lied ahead.

“Just wasn’t my life,” he said. “Couldn’t keep dragging her into mine.”

There was a lot there, buried deep. You couldn’t even begin to find a shovel, so you let it be. Though you should’ve predicted the way he turned it back on you.

“And you?” he said, brows raised. “Never had a douchebag in a sport coat, playing Caddyshack at the club every weekend?” 

You shook your head as you laughed. If nothing else, Dean could paint a picture.

“Definitely fucking not.” You rested your chin in your palm, your elbow finding purchase above the door handle. “You know me. I’m either too much or not enough.”

You didn’t notice it then, but Dean looked over at you with a frown tugging at his lips. He didn’t like the melancholy in your voice, or the way you turned to look out the window, like you were trying to hide from him.

Instead of putting voice to any of the thoughts rolling through his head, he kept driving.

The Impala rumbled to a stop in the parking lot in front of the bar. You were ready to meet Sam for a couple of beers inside. You grabbed your bag resting on the floor between your feet, but Dean’s stayed your hand, his own wrapping warmly around your arm.

You looked over at him with blinking, expectant eyes. He met you with sincerity.

“Anybody who says you ain’t enough, doesn’t know you,” he said. And then, his smile was back, quirking up at the corner. “At least, not like I do.”

Slowly, you smiled back. Your blush fairly radiated down your neck as well as your face, but you crossed your arms.

“So I’m too much. Is that what you’re saying?” you said.

He chuckled. “I plead the Fifth on that one.”

You fell into a fit of laughter along with him, and you both climbed out of the car feeling a little bit lighter. The blaring red neon sign above the bar blinded you for a moment. You turned to see Dean fiddling with his keys, trying to pick out the right one to lock up the car.

Some deep-seated feeling compelled you to go to him. You made your way around the hood and stopped just behind him. You called his name softly.

Dean turned to look at you over his shoulder. He was surprised to find you there so close. It led him to turn around all the way.

You didn’t give him, or even yourself time to think.

You grabbed the edges of his jacket and pulled yourself up to press your lips to his. It was more or less a gentle kiss. Just a sweet, slow meeting of lips. You pulled away just as slowly, the heels of your boots lowering back down to the ground.

Dean blinked his eyes open. When he came back to himself, he looked down at you in surprise and with a hint of a smile. He had the imprint of your lipstick smudged across his plush mouth.

“What was that for?” he asked.

You smoothed your hands over his jacket. It was a bit too hard to meet his eyes, so yours landed somewhere around his chest. It was also too hard to say what you really wanted to say, so you settled on half of the truth.

“A thank you, I guess,” you said. “And maybe the next time I see you, you’ll have a little less weight on your shoulders.”

His calloused hand cupped your cheek, and he earned your gaze, blinking up at him through your lashes. You couldn’t name everything you saw in his eyes, but it was more than just surprise or lust. In fact, he seemed to be debating with himself, fighting something deep inside.

You saw the exact moment he made his decision.

“Maybe we should make it count then,” he said, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

You didn’t even trust your voice, but your gaze drifted down from his eyes, to his mouth. Your shallow nod in agreement was like releasing him from his chains.

Dean framed your face with both hands and drew you into his kiss, like he was breathing life into you. You certainly felt alive.

You clung to the back of his shirt, to his arms, while he gathered you flush against his chest. His strong hands glided their way down the small of your back, eliciting tingles down your spine. All the while, he drew you in deeper and deeper with each new sensuous glide of his lips against yours.

You yelped in surprise when he turned with you in his arms, just to press you into the side of his car. Dean pulled open the door to the backseat, and you climbed in willingly. He followed after you, at the same time you dragged him over by the front of his shirt. Soon his jacket was wrenched off his shoulders along with yours, both tossed somewhere in the front seats along with his shirt.

While you explored the new expanse of tanned skin, roaming your hands over his strong, broad shoulders and dipping down his back, his lips had fastened to your neck, teasing and grazing with his teeth along your pulse point.

You were already moaning and panting in his ear, your body arching to meet his as you slung a leg across his lap. He grabbed onto your thigh and squeezed, pulling you even tighter against him.

Still, you couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Aren’t we a little old to be making out in the backseat?” you said.

“You can be a little old for a lotta things, sweetheart,” said Dean, his voice gravel and deep as sin. “But this ain’t one of ‘em.” 

AN: Some spicy flangst there for ya! It was honestly refreshing to write some Dean after working on so much Soldier Boy. I love that guy, but he gives me stress sometimes. 😂 Trying to cure Dean's angst is a fun break! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Bonus shot! Resless Nights:

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

▶️ Keep Reading: Restless Nights

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[foreverdolly]

this is a self pitying post and i’ll probably delete it later- but when i’m sad i tend to write it out. i’ve used this blog like a diary of sorts for the last two and a half years. i’ve developed a relationship with a lot of you on here and i appreciate all the love i’ve received so far on my last post. my friends that i have in real life, no matter how long i’ve known them, don’t know too much about my upbringing or my parents. i hate the idea of trauma dumping- it’s uncomfortable for other people: so don’t read this if you don’t want to. i wouldn’t blame you.

my dad died from cirrhosis due to alcoholism. he died miserable and alone. he had no friends. his family was sick of him. i tried to call him as often as i could but sometimes he could be mean if he was drunk. i knew not to call him after 11:00 in the afternoon because he would start to drink. he lived in his youngest brother’s basement and almost never came upstairs because he was embarrassed. i haven’t seen him in three years because he lives fourteen hours from me, but i tried my hardest to call him every week and keep him involved in my life. he never saw any of my homes, never met any of my friends, and never even saw me drive a car (i’ve been licensed since i was eighteen). i cried to him almost every week, begging him to get sober.

he never recovered from my parent’s divorce, and for that i feel so sorry. he called my mother his soulmate and always spoke in past tense- talking about when me and my brother were little. he would tear up when talking about the first time he ever saw me in the hospital after my mother gave birth, and he was vocal about the fact that i was his favorite. we shared a lot of the the same interests and always had fun when talking.

when my mom made a suicide attempt two years ago he was there for me almost everyday, calling me despite the demons he was battling with himself.

the last time i spoke to him was thursday- a week from the day he died. he told me that he almost called a treatment facility but he got tired and took a nap instead. his doctors appointment was today at one and he was going to ask to be admitted and then go to a rehab facility. i told him i’d send him money while he was in there- he hasn’t been able to hold a job since i was still in high school.

my dad was a chef. a damn good cook- classically trained in french cooking. he had the loudest laugh i’ve ever heard, so much so that it used to make me cry when i was a baby. we used to wear matching costumes and he’d sign me out from school on halloween and call me out the day after. he took me to my first concert, but he couldn’t afford both the gas and the tickets (so i paid for the gas with my pocket change at the age of thirteen). he wore adidas strictly- shell toe was his favorite.

when i was little my dad was on night duty while my mom was away: tucking us in, reading us books. he refused to read to me and walked out the door but not before saying “bed bugs and stuff”. i thought it was so funny. it became our saying. every night we spent with each other we said “bed bugs and stuff”. so that was my last send off to him. i hope he’s finally resting well and isn’t depressed, ashamed or lonely anymore where he is.

he died in his sleep. they found a solo cup filled with vodka next to his bed and i can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was going to get help today. he was yellow due to jaundice. what a cruel world.

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

A/N: Yes, I know what 'shirt that goes hard' means.😁 But what if the shirt literally went hard? Enjoy this little bit of whimsy courtesy of me getting no sleep for two days straight and thus having time to write. This is just for giggles and not meant to be taken seriously.

Comments, likes and reblogs always appreciated!❤️

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective

You stared at it in horror. Astarion’s favourite shirt. You couldn’t believe that the thing you were holding in your hands was his favourite shirt. Or rather, something that once was his favourite shirt and now resembled a flat, stiff piece of wood.

And how did this happen? Well, it started when Astarion complained that being on the road meant not being able to deal with the annoying wrinkles and creases. And he so hated not looking well put together!

So, what did you do? Oh, just looked up a spell that, apparently, was used by the servants in the city to make sure their masters’ clothes stayed perfect at any time, even fresh after a battle or a quick romp. Or at least until the items got washed and the spell had to be reapplied.

Except something went wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. Halfway through the spell, you sneezed violently. Which apparently affected the incantation. And instead of becoming wrinkle-free, the shirt has become as stiff as a board.

 You tried everything. Getting it wet. Trying to reverse the spell. Setting it on fire. Enlisting Gale’s help. Nothing worked! The damn thing remained rigid.

You felt like crying. Oh, what were you to do? What would Astarion say? Two hundred damn years! Two hundred years he kept the shirt impeccable, mended it lovingly and meticulously. And perhaps the fabric was looking a tiny bit threadbare and worn in some places, but otherwise the state of it was near perfect.

And then your stupid ass came along and ruined it! How long did it take you to destroy it? About five minutes.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” you whispered, putting the shirt down with a dull thump.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Wyll lied with a wince.

No, it wasn’t bad. It was terrible! There was no way to sugarcoat it. Astarion would see it and immediately hate you and he would be right to do so.

“Are you sure that you can’t think of any spell that might reverse… whatever it was that I did?” you asked weakly, looking up at Gale with hope.

“Believe me, my friend, I did everything I could. I may no longer have Mystra’s favour, but my memory would not fail me. I am sorry,” he replied in a grave voice.

You knew that Gale did his best. It was you who was the idiot that started this in the first place. You did screw up rather spectacularly from time to time, which both annoyed and amused others, but this was the first time that you were quite sure that Astarion would genuinely be hurt by it.

You heard Astarion before you saw him. He and Lae’zel were out scouting earlier this afternoon and they seemed to be back with some good news.

“Dearest!” Astarion greeted you from across the camp, “You would not believe the day that I’ve had! And- oh. What’s this?”

You turned around slowly, your back ramrod straight, holding the shirt in front of you.

“Um… So, you see… Wow, this will be real difficult to explain,” you clutched the damn thing so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

“Darling, what is this that you are holding in your hands?” Astarion took a step towards you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Um… I tried a thing and- and this happened.”

“What exactly happened? And what is this?” he motioned to whatever it was that you were holding, realizing that the item in your hands looked vaguely familiar.

“It’s your shirt,” you mumbled in a small voice. “I tried a spell and something went wrong and here we are.”

Astarion took the shirt from your hands with an unreadable expression, fingers clutching at the harder-than-stone fabric.

“I am so sorry!’ you wailed, “I shouldn’t have done it! I wanted to surprise you-”

“You certainly did,” he said, turning the shirt sideways with a frown.

“I mean, you always complained about the fabric creasing and not being able to do anything about it. And I thought I had the solution and- I tried a spell.”

“Well, it will certainly not crease now,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the surface. “Excuse me,” Astarion turned around and made for his tent without another word.

This was a disaster. He hated you. The one reminder of his life before he was turned, the one thing that Cazador did not take from him, the one item that stayed with him and you ruined it.

The only thing that kept you from bawling like a toddler was the need to keep up appearances. Because you were still supposed to be the leader of a formidable group of heroes defending the city from the ultimate evil and- oh hells! You could feel the tears coming and took a deep breath to calm down. And then another, until you felt that you got your errant emotions under control. It seemed to work well enough, although you were now acutely aware that the others were watching the scene with barely concealed interest. One of the downsides of travelling with a group of friends. You could never have a slither of privacy. You were already embarrassed about your screw up, and having so many witnesses really did nothing to improve your foul mood.

You knew you probably should be giving Astarion space right now, but you just couldn’t. So, you squared your shoulders and went after your vampire. Though you were not entirely sure if he would want to be yours after this incident.

“Astarion?” you pulled the tent flap aside a little, “Can I come in?”

“I will not stop you if you do, if that is what you mean,” he said without looking in your direction.

Okay, ouch. But you deserved much worse right now. So silently, you came in and sat on a cushion.

Astarion was looking at his shirt, his face void of any emotion. He didn’t seem to be looking at the disaster of a gift, but rather through it. Lost in thought.

Five minutes passed, then five more. You tried not to fidget, but the silent treatment was making you nervous. Astarion still did not give you any attention and it didn’t seem that he would be in the mood to do so any time soon. So, you decided to speak up. Because sitting like this and waiting for him to say something was torture.

“I-,” you began weakly and cleared your throat, “I will just take my things and won’t disturb you anymore.”

“I’m sorry?” he blinked, finally turning towards you.

“Or, perhaps I could come back for them some other time.”

“Darling, why would you take your things at all?”  Astarion cocked his head to a side, not sure where you were going with this.

“Because I ruined your shirt.”

“And you are afraid that I might retaliate and ruin your clothes, is that it?”

He noticed your hunched shoulders and dejected look and realised that you may have misinterpreted his silence.

“Or is it something even more ridiculous, such as you getting it into your lovely head that I might break up with you over something so trivial?” Astarion leaned closer to you, brushing an errant lock aside to get a better look at your face.

Okay, ouch again. But you supposed that you deserved that too.

“You sweet fool,” he sighed, pulling you down to sit in his lap, “you saved me countless times. Saved me from Cazador, from myself. What is a shirt in a grand scale of things?”

You felt him put his arms around you and finally relaxed into his touch, enjoying the way he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I mean, I understand why you are upset. I did look amazing in it. But then again, I’d look amazing in anything," he went on. "Besides, I am sure that we can pick out something gorgeous when we get to the city. And for now, you will just have to try and resist me in my half-naked glory,” Astarion flicked his curls back and gave you a sultry look.

“I can’t resist you even when you are fully dressed,” you played along, reaching for his ear with your lips and placing a tender, lingering kiss to the tip, making him purr.

“Well, then we have no choice but to take an evening to ourselves, don’t we?” Astarion conceded playfully, submitting to your searching hands as you fumbled for the ties of his armour.

The next day Lae’zel and Karlach tested out Astarion’s shirt in action and found that it made quite a formidable weapon. When thrown, it sliced through opponents like a knife through butter. When used to strike, the bludgeoning damage was off the charts! It was fireproof, waterproof, gave the holder the ability to ignore many offensive spells and was near indestructible!

Gale begged you to remember which syllable you sneezed on so he could try to replicate the spell and try to make another weapon of the type. But no matter what you did, the spell did exactly as advertised. Got clothes to stay wrinkle-free.

“It appears that this shirt is truly one-of-a-kind,” Wyll laughed, balancing it on the palm of his hand. “Weighs so little too!”

“Well, everything about me is extraordinary. Makes perfect sense for my shirt to have unique properties too,” Astarion looked at it in a way that a proud parent would regard an overachieving child. “Shame that you didn’t cast that spell earlier, darling. I would have quite enjoying smashing Cazador’s head in with it. Would have been ironic that he beat being perfect into me, only for me to come back and beat him perfectly with the shirt.”

“Still plenty of bad guys out there, Fangs! I might just borrow this from you to teach Gortash a lesson,” Karlach cracked her knuckles.

“You would have to fight Lae’zel for it first, I’m afraid,” you lifted your shield as you got ready to move out. “She said that such a formidable weapon can only be wielded by the most experienced warrior.”

“I’m experienced enough!”

“Chk! By the standards of this realm, you fight well. But only the githyanki are taught to be experts with any weapon. I will be the one to carry it,” she insisted, ignoring the protests of others. As far as Lae’zel was concerned, the matter was settled.

And so your ragtag group set off on yet another adventure feeling that the odds were decisively in your favour as of late. You and Astarion walked side by side, hands brushing as you listened to Karlach and Lae’zel bicker. Seeing as the others were preoccupied, Astarion snaked his arm round your middle and pulled you flush against him.

“Do warn me next time you want to experiment, my dear. You claim this to be an accident, but I suspect you have an ulterior motive. One might even say that it is your subconsciousness guiding your hand when it comes to destroying my clothes.”

Astarion’s smile widened as you flushed a beautiful shade of red, claiming your lips in a way that communicated quite clearly that he was down for whatever else your delightful brain would come up with.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 1/12

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

This story is so beautiful, hopefully you'll think so too! 🥹

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

You could really get used to this life, because who else has an amazing girl boss who let's you off work in the honor of your birthday?

Well you did.

Instead of spending the last hours of the day sorting out paperwork, you were rushing off to see you your boyfriend who had surprise for you in the park.

"Oh my god, is he going to purpose?"

"I have no idea." You squealed, cellphone pressed to your ear. Your best friend Laleh was on the other end, helping you speculate why Ruben specifically wanted to spend the afternoon with you in the park.

"Do you think he had anything to do with you getting off work so early?"

"I really don't know. I would be surprised of he did."

"Yes, me too. If he did, what the hell was he thinking, leaving me to finish all this work by myself?"

You laughed. "I'm so sorry Laleh. I really owe you."

"Damn straight you do. Just make sure to send me a picture of the ring, okay?"

"I promise. Love you. Bye."

You hung up the phone and practically ran the last distance towards the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sighted it ahead. What if this was it? What if after three years together, Ruben, was finally ready to tie the knott. Lord knows that you were. Ruben was simply the man of your dreams.

"Y/N."

You spotted his tall figure amongst the trees. He stood with his hands in his pockets, hair stirring gently in the wind. The way your heart fluttered when you saw him could only mean one thing, no?

"Ruben, what is all this?"

He suprised you with a full on picknick. A blanket was laid out on the grass below. Beside it was a basket containing fruit, red wine and a fine collection of cheese.

"Happy birthday baby!" Ruben welcomed you to sit down.

"I can't believe you. Isn't today your rest day?"

Ruben lay down on the blanket, leaning forward to kiss you. "I can rest right here." He smiled.

You were perplexed. The amount of love you had for your boyfriend was simply too hard to grasp. He had gone so out of his way just for you. It made you giggle, how he cut you a slice of cheese with such caution, wanting it to be just the right amount to put on your cracker.

"Here you go."

"Well, thank you." You bowed with courtesy.

Ruben put down the cheese knife and licked the tip of his fingers. He licked them clean since his diet as a professional football player didn't allow him to have any dairy. Wine was also off limits. It was all just for you to enjoy.

"So..." He said, clasping his hands together as he rested on his side. "How does it feel to be twenty-five?"

"Old." You murmured through a mouth full of cheese and crackers.

"Old?" He frowned. "But I'm twenty-seven."

"Exactly my point. Twenty-seven is so old and now I'm getting closer to that age."

"Right." He snorted.

"Don't get me wrong baby. You look amazing for your age, but that's because you work out. I on the other hand...."

"If it's your fitness that you're worried about you can always come with me to the gym."

"Nah, I'm good." You chugged down the last of your cracker, dusting of the crumbs that had fallen into your lap. Ruben looked to you with admiration, the sun irritating his eyes.

"Did you know that my mom had my sister at twenty-one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and me at twenty-seven."

"Interesting."

"Yeah and now my sister is trying to get pregnant again at thirty-one as if the two children she has isn't enough work already."

"How are they?"

"Emmy and Vale?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, well they're great, I guess. Emmy has just started her forth year in primary school and Vale lost his first tooth the other day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. His dad forgot to slip him the money from the tooth fairy though. My sister totally freaked out."

"Tooth fairy?" Ruben tilted his head.

"Yes, the tooth fairy. Didn't you grow up with the concept of a wealthy winged midget sneaking into your bedroom at night, collecting all your teeth?"

"Erm...no. No, I didn't. " Ruben looked horried.

"Hmm.....I thought the culture in Portugal wasn't too different from the rest of the countries in Europe."

"It isn't." Ruben sat up. "But I guess my family wasn't into that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

"I dunno, make believe stuff. Fairytales etc."

"Oh."

"Yeah, my dad was the worst. When I first lost my tooth he made me stand in front of the bathroom mirror and pull the tooth out myself."

"Really? That's horrible."

"I still remember being hunched over the bathroom sink with blood pouring out of my mouth while hearing my dad flush my tooth down the toilet."

"Ruben, that's—"

"My dad for you." He smiled. It was obvioulsy a fond memory to him. A traumatic one to you.

"I just can't imagine myself raising children right now." You said, falling back onto the picknick blanket, a sense of peace washing over you. It was such a lovely afternoon. "If anything I'm still a child myself."

"How about a dog?"

You had gone to shut your eyes, but quickly reopened them. Ruben was standing up, hovering over you with a cardboard box in his hands.

You brought yourself to sit up. "Ruben, what is—"

Something shook the box. Followed by a low squeal. A frail attempt of a bark.

"Ruben....you did not."

His smile broadened. "I did." He lowered the box for you to see what lay within, and looking up at you with the most precious eyes was a brown sausage dog, less than four weeks old.

"Oh my god." You quickly reached for it and brought the puppy into your lap. "Ruben I can't believe you did this!"

"Happy birthday!"

You looked up at him, feeling how the dog nibbled at your fingertips. "What made you even want to do this?" It was such a commitment to get a dog. Ruben had never expressed the desire to get one before, although, you knew that he was good with them, seeing as his family had own several back home in Portugal.

"I guess I just thought it was time." He shrugged.

"Time for what?" You cried. Yes, actual tears were welling up in your eyes. Even more so when Ruben joined you on the blanket, petting the fluffy creature in your lap. He then looked to you with such a gentle gaze. "For us to start a family." He said.

"Oh, Ruben." You kissed him, apologizing for your wet cheeks. Ruben didn't mind, however, wiping them away with a stroke of his thumb. "I love you Y/N. I always will."

"I love you too."

It was the best birthday of your life, filled with wet kisses and a puppy. Hopefully it was the beginning of forever with Ruben. It's all you ever wanted

Part 2 and Part 3 are out on my Patreon for FREE!

[unconventional-user]

Statuesque

I'm crawling out the sewers to re-introduce myself. Plus new blog yay!

König and Reader are relatively almost the same height SO I DONT WANNA HEAR NO CANON THAT READER IS 5 FOOT SOMETHING NO THEYRE LIKE 6'5 HELL PROBABLY EVEN TALLER-

Anyways, as you can tell I know nothing about the military nor COD, only what I've read and seen. Shoot me. Reader is intended to be gn overall but correct me in case.

pairing: könig x tall!reader 

warning(s): uhhhh idk, kinda sucks? (I tried)

word count: 2.7k

* This work was created by @unconventional-user, no re-post(s), you may, however, re-blog. Thank you. *

'How tall are you?'

'Are you a basketball player?'

'Do you wear heels?'

'How's the weather up there?'

These questions were a constant occurrence whenever leave took place. It was a reminder how annoying and entitled people were at times.

Luckily, deployment had come quickly most times, so you wouldn't have to deal with them often.

It's not like there was anything to head back to when 'off duty' anyway.

Parents were several countries overseas as well as other family, friends, and folk. So being called back often wasn't a rare occurrence nor was it annoying...

After joining the Air Force, it was expected of your squadron to work alongside certain groups. You happened to be the lucky few that helped aid the Special Air Services pretty often. It was mainly with transports as well as to help fly troops on missions.

It was nice. Some of the best times honestly.

Britain was a really cool place too.

But the constant travelling back and fourth, US to UK kind of left this uncertainty of which place was your 'true' home.

Almost like an identity crisis sort of.

So after some thinking and request of separation, you moved countries alongside joining the British Army.

Many more years later you're a part of the Special Air Services.

You could say the years in the Air Force might've helped a bit by leaving such positive feedback to them when SAS asked about their new soldier.

Judging from their background, they described as if the "golden child" for helicopter pilots was amongst them:

A once in a lifetime.

A relic of some sorts.

A phenomen.

According to them, you knew how to maneuver the damn chopper 'as if you built it yourself'.

Thus becoming a well recognized name amongst the special forces more specifically.

You'd like to thank the impeccable flying skills for landing you on such a radar.

Still, most of your work went unnoticed the first couple of years in SAS til' they eventually caught someone's eye later on:

"That's some amazing skills there—hello, we haven't met. My name is Kate."

The communication analyst would keep in touch with you after that. She claimed a specific task force officer asked for your wings.

"You know how to maneuver a helicopter better than anyone I've seen in a while. And I'm not the only one who's seen you in action."

Years pass after that, you're still on par with transporting soldiers and the Task Force 141, means you must be doing something right…right?

Shaking off the commotion of thoughts, you drove till the view of a familiar, bordered gateway appeared.

Upon entry, it was time to head over to your station.

-

Some inspections and loadings later, a shout was heard from afar. Turning towards the culprit, it was none other than Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

"Long time no see, aye bonnie?"

Leaning against the rails of the helicopter, he gave a smile. In return you gave one back as you finished clearing the aircraft as: PASS.

"Good afternoon, Sergeant," you chuckled, "I believe I saw you yesterday."

Ignoring the matter-of-fact, he continued on, "Call me Soap. Remember, yer one of us."

Smiling awkwardly, you pretend to re-inspect one of the throttles once again.

To be 'considered' a part of task 141 was…a weird feat or way to put it overall. You were in their squadron as their pilot, but you weren't necessarily with them. You weren't a part of their briefings or any of that.

You were separate from them.

The only one who really 'considered' you as part was Sergeant MacTavish.

Not to say the others were assholes or something. Lieutenant Ghost often would brief a 'good job' or 'nice maneuvering' to you once in a while.

Sergeant Garrick and Captain Price also acknowledged you from time to time, always greeting when deemed necessary.

To put it into simple words…they like your flying skills. You're like a designated pilot for them sort of.

'Way to make it sound like you're just a chauffeur-'

Shaking the thoughts aside once more, you focused on what Johnny said.

"Come again, Sergeant?"

The man chuckled, shaking his head but repeated himself once more. He always found you cute yet attractive. A true bonnie. These small actions never ceased to add to his attraction towards you.

Plus, he liked them tall. He could only imagine you in heels now…

"Wait…so you guys are gonna team up with a whole 'nother group for the mission?" You asked.

Great. Now he had to shake his thoughts aside. Clearing his throat, Johnny nodded.

"Price got told he needed backup for this one. Apparently it's too risky to go alone."

"Sounds rough."

"Aye, Ghost ain't too fond of the idea either."

Didn't look like he was too happy about the situation as well.

Nodding, you understood the lieutenant's 'worry' about being aided by a private contractor unit. Another responsibility and potential liability overall.

Trying to look on the bright side of things, at least they'll be more careful.

"Well…better safe than sorry, right? Plus you guys won't be so bored on the ride there!" You internally cringed at your feeble attempt to cheer the man up.

Hey, at least it made him laugh though.

"Ye ready to deal wit' another crew of dafties 'en, bonnie?"

Laughing, you closed the door to the aircraft.

"I'll see you in a bit, las."

-

The briefing ends; said Austrian begins heading towards the designated lockers.

Kortac had been called back by the SAS, unsurprisingly. They’d worked alongside the particular military service before (more than a few times).

The report claimed a certain special ops unit would need some assistance on an important mission. The team was ordered to help aid as a “battering ram” of sorts, both pre and post mission.

Of course they knew just who to send alongside for additional aid to the team.

König rolled his eyes, slamming the locker in frustration. He really didn’t want to be here at all. In his eyes, he was assisting a potential enemy. The SAS wasn’t necessarily a foe to KorTac, but it’s not like they were allies either.

So case in point (to König), he was being forced to help the potential enemy.

There were other soldiers sent alongside König. One of them looked over at him, an eyebrow raised, “Alles gut?”

König looked over at the soldier and said nothing, hood completely concealing his annoyed face. He’d rather be anywhere else than here if he’s being honest.

Heading towards the helipad, where he’d meet the rest of his ‘team’ mates, König tripled checked his tactical gear on him before stepping onto the designated helicopter.

His eyes narrowed onto a familiar face—or rather a mask—he had met before. Ghost simply responded back to König’s hostile stare vice versa. Neither said anything, but sat on opposite sides of one another.

No mind was paid to the rest that got onto the helicopter, except for Sergeant MacTavish, who made his entrance known with a hearty laugh followed by an annoyed looking Sergeant Garrick.

After the rest got settled in, Captain Price stood center and went over some key details again, mainly about KorTac’s assistance on the mission. König felt someone’s eyes on him as a chill ran along his neck. He turned his head and saw the same soldier from earlier at the lockers move to sit next to him. Said soldier looked away nervously to avoid the blue eyes.

Komisch. König narrowed his eyes in confusion, but remained silent overall. He felt the soldier lean in, “Is this your first time working with them?” They then gestured their head towards Task force 141. König didn’t acknowledge them and remained quiet. Looking away, he ignored the huff of the—now annoyed— soldier.

“Ist mir doch...”

König ignored the subliminal guilt he felt by acting like he didn’t hear the soldier’s mutterings. Trying to distract himself, he re-checked his tactical gear.

Knife is attached to his side. His tourniquet was in place, perfectly positioned if needed. He had 2 extra stocks on his left thigh—

Thoughts were interrupted as 2 pairs of feet stepped onto the helicopter and the doors were closed. König looked up and he swore he heard himself swallow back a gulp. Thank whatever is up there that he had his hood concealing his face. König could feel his face becoming warm.

Completely ignoring the other pilot officer greeting the team, his eyes focused on you.

Who were you?

You seemed to be standing at almost—if not the same—height as König,

He absolutely loved that.

Eyes fell onto your hands, noticing the lack of a band surrounding it, which he also seemed to love.

He was unsure if he had a visceral reaction to your presence but it felt like when people saw color for the first time. He felt the need to hide his flustered face (even though the hood already does that for him).

Du siehst bezaubernd aus.

He thought, eyes not leaving your form.

As you and the other pilot head towards the cockpit, he couldn't help but ponder.

Was that what many consider ‘love at first sight'? Him? In love?

The idea seemed almost laughable, mainly because he didn't think he could ever imagine him even having the courage to even attempt to pursue someone. Let alone have someone finding him worth being with.

König (sadly) broke his stare by looking at the soldier who jabbed his shoulder. Bothered, he turned towards them with narrowed eyes.

Grinning, the soldier commented, "As they say in America; statuesque."

-

Stepping towards the helicopter, you could feel your mind calm down. You knew exactly what to do. Tis the moment. You're in the zone.

Ew. That’s literally so cheesy.

You thought as you covered your hand to hide the growing smile.

Your co-pilot turned over at you, “Everything ok?” he asked, confused.

Putting a hand down, you nodded, “Yep. Just…thinking of something.”

He gave you an odd look but didn't perpetuate any further, simply muttering under his breath, “...How’d I get stuck with the tall weirdo?”

You pretend not to hear that, letting out a sigh and stepping onto the helicopter.

The co-pilot flashed everyone a tight-lipped smile as eyes fell onto him first, “Proud to be working with everyone here.” But eyes quickly fell onto the person looming over him.

That person being you.

With a flashed smile and wave, you greeted them, “I’m going to be your eyes in the skies today.”

The assisting team nodded a ‘Yes Officer’ your way. Nodding to the group, you observed them until one of them caught your eye.

The moment your eyes landed on the gentleman in the hood suddenly time had stopped, not noticing when he looked back either. His eyes widened whilst looking like he had choked on the air or something.

He looked a little bit taller than you—only a little—which almost never happens.

He was also oddly cute (considering he had a full on sack over his head).

Suddenly self conscious about appearance, you straighten up and try to hide the blush apparent on your face. If it's obvious, nobody dares say anything.

It probably didn't help that he was staring back at you as well. Interlocked, neither breaking eye-contact till the soldier next to him nudged his shoulder.

Luckily, you were able to gather yourself and head into the cockpit. It seemed like the others had disappeared, leaving only you and him. But you surged on, unaware of eyes following your direction.

Finally out of sight, you were able to find your footing and headed towards the left.

Your co-pilot sat to your right.

Alright, it’s go time.

Snorting, you muttered, “...still so cheesy.”

“Huh?” the co-pilot turned.

“Nothing!”

-

It was finally over. The mission was done. You could feel the relief washing over as you were able to land on the helipad again.

No casualties (thankfully), except for 2 soldiers who were grazed by bullets. One of them being Ghost, who had apparently saved one of the other soldiers who were shot.

You still remembered upon landing to reach them on the field, Ghost was angrily dragging the other wounded soldier by the vest, holding his shoulder in the process.

One soldier yanked out a med kit as another snatched them away from the lieutenant.

The shouting could be heard from the cockpit as you flew away. You and your co-pilot ignored it and continued to flee the warzone.

As you were able to land, you slowly started feeling at ease.

Even though you’ve been flying for years, the adrenaline and anxiety was still the same every time.

The difficulty was always trying to shake the feeling of nerves off. A good cigarette always seems to ease them away. Speaking of which…

You reached into your lower back pocket; you cursed when you didn’t feel any familiar shaped boxed. Must’ve left the pack in your locker. Luckily, it wasn’t too far.

Headed towards said lockers, someone had walked next to you. Upon looking, no words were exchanged as you were side-to-side with the extremely tall soldier.

You expected him to say something. He didn’t. Simply continue to walk.

You decided to do so instead.

“Hello.”

The hooded man faced you this time with flat eyes. You stopped walking, so did he. Gulping down the nervousness, you took a good look at him.

He was taller than you, even if it was by a couple inches only. He was still taller than you.

“Sorry for bothering but…” chewing on your lip (which he definitely looked at), you confessed, “...I've never seen someone as tall—hell—taller than me. So I just wanted to introduce myself.”

You tell him your name, trying not to seem so upfront about it. He continues to look on for a while, in which you think maybe he didn’t want to talk to you at all.

“König.” is all he (manages to) says and continues to walk (although appearing dull looking towards you, he was internally sweating bullets as well).

“...Well König…I was wondering…if you would like to…maybe hangout, tonight. I'm actually going out to head for some drinks tonight and I thought…” you chuckled nervously while trying not to mumble, he however, cut you off.

“What?” König asked in what seemed an annoyed tone.

Not to him though, he just seemed weary about strangers, plus he didn't really know how to act around someone he seemed to have a crush on. He didn't even think he sounded rude about it.

Which was the problem.

You quickly explained to him, “Well…we don't have to. I swear I just wanted to offer maybe I thought you'd be interested-”

He cut you off again, “Why would I want to spend my time with you?” 

Oh god König. If only he knew just how bad he was fucking this up.

Swallowing, you looked away from said man, “Um…nevermind I didn't mean to disturb you, please, forget I ever bothered you haha…” you slowly drifted off, trying to hide the wobble in your lip.

Forcing a smile you began to walk away from him.

König’s eyes widened as you began to walk away.

No. No. No. Nein. Nein-

Was tust du?! He thought as he saw your lips wobble.

Do something before they leave!

“Wait!” He blurted out. This time he didn't seem to care that the surrounding soldiers looked at him.

But when you turned around however, he felt his stomach flutter.

Oh shit now what-

He didn’t know what to say now. So he simply just walked up, grabbed both of your shoulders and explained how he’d love to go out for drinks.

Motivated, you just looked up at him, the genuine smile creeping back onto your face, “Really?”

König felt himself freeze, but nodded regardless:

“Ja.”

“Okay, great…Amazing!” Giving him the details, you headed towards the lockers, the–now–lovestruck smile on your face. König waved until he realized what he just did.

He agreed to go out for drinks. With you.

With you. 

What was his issue then? Nothing was wrong with you.

But you wanna go out with him. Him.…now that's a different story.

He was freaking out–not that anyone could tell–König stood still in one spot, till the hand on his shoulder broke him out of it. It was the previous soldier from before:

“Gut?” they tried asking König again, who narrowed his eyes back at them. 

“Ja.”

Can you tell this was rushed and kinda a little self indulgent? Yeah, now I feel kinda cringe. Also didn't mean to cut it off so suddenly, maybe to be continued? Maybe.

[ultrone]

🏹﹒♱ ┊ hunting lessons. hunter nat scatorccio

🎧 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙸𝙽𝙶 fade into you by mazzy star

synopsis. nat teaches u how to hunt.

cw. friends to lovers trope (?), shooting an animal.

wc. 2.8k

n/a. just finished binge-watching yellowjackets and fell in love with nat (and shauna and pre-crash lottie), i almost combusted and threw up when i saw the lack of fics 😖 had to do something abt it so here y'all go 🙌🏻

It was already afternoon, and you had devoted most of the entire morning to chopping pieces of wood. The stack of wood grew steadily higher, as you meticulously arranged each piece, ensuring there was enough to sustain a warm fire for at least three days. It was a laborious process, but one you found solace in, the repetitive motion calming your thoughts.

The crisp winter air filled your lungs as you swung the axe, each powerful stroke splitting the logs with a satisfying thud. Your breath formed small clouds of vapour, mingling with the falling snowflakes. As you continued your diligent work, wood cracking echoed through the quiet surroundings, accompanied by the occasional chirping of distant birds.

With the woodpile complete, you wearily cleaned your tools, removing any lingering wood chips, and carefully stowed them away in their designated place. As you finished, a gentle voice called out from behind you.

"Are you finished?" Tai asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Turning towards her with a tired smile, you nodded and replied, "Yes, finally done. I managed to gather enough wood to last us for a few days. I'm just going to take a quick nap upstairs, though. My body could use a rest."

Tai's eyes widened slightly, her concern evident. "You've been working so hard today," she said empathetically. "Make sure you get some good rest. I'll keep an eye on the fire and wake you up if anything happens."

You appreciated her thoughtfulness and gratitude washed over you. "Thanks, Tai," you replied, "I'll only be upstairs for a little while. Wake me up if you need anything, okay?"

She nodded and gave you an encouraging smile. "Take care. I'll see you later."

With a final wave, you made your way wearily inside, your tired footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. Climbing the stairs, you reached the attic, shedding your heavy outerwear and sinking into the comfort of the bedsheets. The weariness of the day settled upon you, and as your eyes closed, you drifted into a much-needed slumber.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs stirred you from your sleep. You groggily registered the noise but dismissed it, assuming it was just the usual household activity. However, your drowsiness was quickly interrupted when you felt someone settling down beside you. Startled, you blinked your eyes open to find Nat, grinning mischievously.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to hibernate for three hours instead of twenty minutes," Nat teased, her voice laced with playful sarcasm.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes and turning to face her. "Damn it, Nat. I can't believe I overslept like that. Why didn’t you wake me up?"

She smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. "Oh, and miss the opportunity to witness your adorable sleeping face? No way. It was too good to pass up."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving her shoulder. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Guilty as charged," she replied, grinning unabashedly. "But hey, since you're finally awake, are you ready for your hunting lesson? Or do you need another three-hour nap?" She teased.

Your groggy mind took a moment to process her words, realizing that you had completely forgotten about the hunting expedition. With a tired sigh, you covered your face with the blankets, only peering out with an adorably exasperated expression.

"Nat, do we seriously have to go hunting?" you whined, your voice muffled by the cozy fabric. "I mean, can't we just... I don't know, I honestly wouldn't mind chopping wood for the rest of my life. It's a lot less daunting than tracking down wild animals, don't you think?"

"Chopping wood for eternity? Seriously? That's your alternative plan?" Nat replied, amusement lacing her voice.

"Hey, at least chopping wood sounds a little less intimidating than embarking on a hunt. And besides, check out these guns I’ve got now," you said, flexing your biceps with a hint of cockiness.

Nat chuckled and teasingly poked your side. "Oh, come on, Mr. Lumberjack. Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, hunting isn't just about killing animals; it's about survival, connecting with nature, and embracing the wild." She said with a fake inspirational tone.

"Damn, now you sound even crazier than Lottie," you jokingly remarked.

Nat widened her eyes in mock surprise, placing a hand on her chest in an exaggeratedly offended manner. "You better take that back," she playfully retorted.

"Okay, c'mon now, let's go," she urged, her tone indicating a hint of excitement. "It's gonna get dark in just a couple of hours, so we better get moving." Taking the lead, Nat reached out and gently took your hand, tugging you downstairs. Her touch was warm, and you couldn't help but feel your chest flutter a bit at the contact.

In the dimly lit room, Nat guided you towards the equipment laid out on a table. With care and efficiency, she helped you put on the necessary gear, ensuring everything was secure. As she fastened the straps and adjusted the fittings, her touch was gentle yet purposeful, a tender familiarity you couldn't help but notice.

She then retrieved a neck gaiter and gently slid it over your head, adjusting it snugly around your neck. Pulling it up slightly, she positioned it to cover your mouth and nose, shielding you from the chill in the air. Your eyes met for a fleeting moment, and in that exchange, a flicker of unspoken affection passed between you.

Nat took a step closer, her gentle touch pulling the hood of your attire snugly over your head. With utmost care, she tucked away any stray strands of hair behind your ears. The simple yet affectionate gesture didn't escape your notice, and a warmth stirred within you. However, both of you remained oblivious to the unspoken attraction that lingered in the air. Underneath the fabric concealing your face, a faint blush spread across your cheeks, as her considerate actions revealed her protective nature, further endearing her to you.

Breaking the silence that enveloped you both, Nat let out a playful remark, bringing a smile to your face. "Alright, let's get going before Lottie goes all wicca on us,” she quipped. “Last time she made Travis and I down one of her weird ass drinks and it tasted like shit," she added with a grimace, eliciting a chuckle from you.

With determination in her eyes, Nat led the way as both of you stepped outside into the pristine white landscape, the snow crunching under your boots. The biting cold nipped at your cheeks, but the excitement of the hunt kept you warm from within. Heading north, you scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of movement or animal tracks. The towering trees stood tall, their branches adorned with a delicate layer of snow, creating a picturesque scene that contrasted with the anticipation pulsating through your veins.

"Remind me again, Nat, why couldn't we just stick to shooting cans in the comfort of our ‘backyard’?" you asked, your tone filled with a mix of curiosity and mild protest.

Nat flashed you a wry grin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and wisdom. "Shooting cans is child's play, Y/n,” she replied, her voice laced with a hint of playful sarcasm. “I wanted you to experience the real deal, the hands-on thrill of hunting. You know, the kind that makes your heart race and your senses come alive,” she exaggerated her tone with fake enthusiasm. “Don’t be a pussy," she added, teasingly emphasizing her point.

"Yeah, right. Whatever you say," you huffed, eliciting a grin from Nat beneath her face-covering.

You continued walking for a couple of minutes, the snow crunching under your boots with each step. Suddenly, you felt Nat's arm gently press against your chest, bringing you to an abrupt halt. Instinctively, you turned to look at her, only to find her blue eyes locked onto something with an intense focus. You followed her gaze, directing your attention to the right, where a tree stood proudly. Underneath its branches, a small, fluffy bunny nestled peacefully in a bed of fallen leaves. Its delicate form rose and fell with the rhythm of its slumber, completely unaware of your presence.

With a cautious demeanor, Nat carefully retrieved the gun from her side and placed it in your hands. Sensing the need for stability in your aim, she commanded you to lie down on the ground, where you could rest your arms against the earth. It was a thoughtful decision on her part, recognizing that shooting while lying down would provide a steadier position, especially since your aim needed improvement. In this way, she intended to teach you to utilize the support of the ground, enabling you to better control your shots.

As you settled into the prone position, the weight of the gun pressed against your palms, and the coldness of the ground seeped through your clothing. Nat positioned herself intimately close beside you, her body snugly fitting against yours, perfectly mirroring your stance. She delicately wrapped her arms around you, providing a comforting embrace.

As you were about to adjust your face-covering to facilitate better communication, Nat's delicate touch reached out and gently tugged it down for you, revealing your faces to each other. In that moment, her gaze lingered deeply on your lips, and then her eyes met yours with an intensity that stirred a flutter in your stomach.

Whispering softly, her warm breath grazed your ear, creating a delicate shiver that traveled down your spine. The proximity of her lips to yours was tantalizing, and you could feel the gentle warmth of her breath caressing your mouth. It was as if the air crackled with an invisible magnetic force, drawing you closer together.

"Remember to load the gun," she reminded you, her voice barely audible over the winter breeze, but her words were merely a backdrop to the unspoken tension that swirled between you. Her arms encircled your body, providing not only stability but a sense of security and reassurance. In this moment, you were acutely aware of her presence, her body fitting perfectly against yours, as if you were two puzzle pieces destined to interlock.

As you prepared to take your shot, the weight of the gun became secondary to the fluttering sensation in your stomach. Nat's captivating gaze and the proximity of her touch made your heart race with intensity.

"Take a deep breath in... and exhale," Nat instructed, her voice a soothing melody cutting through the crisp air. And with each inhale and exhale, you felt your racing heart steady, the rhythm of your breath aligning with the tranquil surroundings.

As you aligned your sights, the world around you blurred, leaving only the target in your vision. In a fluid motion, you squeezed the trigger, the recoil rippling through your body. The shot echoed through the air, a testament to your growing skill.

The bullet found its mark, striking the bunny with precision. A sense of excitement and accomplishment washed over you as you witnessed the small creature stir and then lie still.

Elation bubbled up within you, and turning towards Nat, you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. "Did you see that? Nailed it!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with both triumph and a playful undertone.

Nat's eyes sparkled with surprise. "To be honest I wasn't expecting much from you," she admitted, a playful smirk curling on her lips. "You've definitely surprised me."

"Ouch, no faith in my skills, huh?" you replied with a mock pout, pretending to be hurt by her lack of expectations.

She chuckled, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Well, you know, I've always believed in your ability to surprise me in the most unexpected ways," Nat retorted, her playful tone matching yours, as a glimmer of tension began to weave its way into the air.

In that moment, as Nat spoke, her eyes caught sight of a stray strand of hair gently drifting towards your face. Without hesitation, her fingertips delicately brushed it behind your ear, her subtle touch sending a shiver down your spine, and as your eyes met, you both felt an undeniable tension building between you. Time seemed to slow as she lingered there, her gaze shifting from your smile to your eyes, softness settling over her features.

Your heart quickened as you mirrored her actions, and the magnetic pull between you grew stronger, intensifying the tension. With each passing second, the unspoken connection sparked in the air, enveloping you both. As you leaned in, the space between you narrowed, causing the world around you to fade into the background.

But just as your lips were about to meet, a rustle in the distance broke the spell, bringing you back to reality. Startled, you instinctively pulled away, the moment shattered but not forgotten. A mixture of disappointment and curiosity filled the silence, leaving an unspoken question lingering between you: What could have been?

As the charged atmosphere slowly dissipated, and you and Nat found yourselves back in the present moment, a voice broke through the silence. "Finally, there you are! Dinner's ready, guys. We're all waiting for you," Shauna said, unknowingly interrupting the moment.

You both turned towards her, momentarily startled by her arrival. You exchanged a glance, a mixture of disappointment and gratitude for the timely interruption. Nat composed herself and returned Shauna's smile. "Thanks, Shauna," she replied, her tone masking any hint of the emotions that had filled the air just moments before. "We'll be right there."

With a nod, Shauna turned and walked away, leaving the two of you laying there, caught in a mixture of emotions. Instinctively, you both decided to mask the intensity of the moment and carried on as if nothing had happened.

You quickly regained your composure, and without missing a beat, you casually reached down to retrieve the bunny. Nat followed suit, and together, you started making your way back to the cabin for dinner.

The journey back to the cabin was quiet, each step accompanied by a lingering tension. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the surroundings into a dusky embrace. As darkness settled around you, the soft glow of the moon emerged, casting an ethereal light upon your path. Words seemed unnecessary, as the weight of the unspoken hung between you.

Just as you were about to reach the cabin, lost in your thoughts, Nat's hand unexpectedly found yours, causing you to turn towards her with surprise. Without a word, she turned you around and pressed you against the closest tree. The moon's soft glow highlighted her intense gaze, and the tension between you grew palpable.

In an instant, Nat leaned in, her lips meeting yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The forcefulness of the kiss took you by surprise, but you quickly responded, fueled by the eagerness and pent-up desire that had been building up between you.

In that moment, you let go of the bunny, allowing it to drop to the ground, as your arms instinctively wrapped around Nat's neck. Your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, desperate to deepen the kiss. The urgency between you was palpable, as if you both had been waiting for this release, a long-awaited culmination of unspoken feelings. Nat's hands slid down to your waist, pressing against you with a fervent desire.

As the kiss deepened, you felt Nat's playful nibble on your lower lip, and you softly parted your lips, wordlessly inviting her to explore further. With a gentle push of her tongue, she sought entrance into the intimate depths of your mouth, craving the taste of it.

After what felt like an eternity, Nat finally pulled away, her breath mingling with yours as she rested her forehead against yours. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she breathed, her voice filled with a mix of apology and exhilaration. Her breath came in short bursts as she tried to regain composure. "I didn't mean to pounce on you like that, It's just that our moment back there kinda messed me up, and I couldn't wait any longer,” she confessed, her voice tinged with a touch of self-deprecating humor.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, trying to catch your breath as you looked into her eyes. "Well, that was quite the way to show it," you replied, your voice laced with a teasing tone. "But I can't say I'm complaining. I was hoping you'd make a move. Shauna interrupting us almost gave me blue balls," you joked.

Laughter erupted from both of you, the lingering tension from earlier dissipating into thin air as you shared this lighthearted moment. With that, the two of you straightened your clothes and made your way back to the cabin, joining the rest of the team for dinner.

[sashaisready]

Chapter Seventeen - We’re going on a little ride

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 18

Series Masterlist

You saw the engine start up to leave and you broke into a sprint as you shot across the street before they could pull away (but made sure to check for traffic this time).

You whipped yourself in front of it, banging on the hood and yelling at the tinted windshield.

“Hey!! Hey! Come out right NOW” you practically screamed. “Get your chicken shit asses out here and talk to me”.

You knew you shouldn’t speak to the terrifying mob goons like that but any worries you had were drowned by your anger, and fear for Peter’s safety. Besides, you knew most of them by now.

The door zipped open and you were surprised to see Bucky of all people step out, flanked by Steve.

He watched you carefully as he emerged. He was in one of his suits but the jacket was gone, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His vibranium arm glinted under the light of the street lamp.

“Don’t hit the car like that, Doll. The paintwork is very delicate”.

“Doing your own dirty work for a change, huh?” you spat.

Bucky chuckled as he stepped towards you. “You have a good night, Doll?” he asked, condescension dripping from him.

“Don’t fucking touch him” you spat as you pointed a warning finger at him and then to Steve. “He’s a good man. Don’t drag him into this”.

Bucky shrugged casually, shaking his head as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“We wouldn’t hurt Mr. Quill, would we Steve?” Bucky said dubiously.

“Of course. Not our good friend, Peter” Steve replied in a monotone.

Your stomach lurched. Of course they had his full name. They probably already had his driving license and tax records on file.

“Bucky, please…” you pleaded.

He watched you attentively as you took a step towards him.

“We both just agreed to be just friends as neither of us felt a connection. Don’t hurt him. There’s nothing there” you explained calmly, trying to sound tougher than you felt.

Bucky smiled thinly. “I’m not a monster, Doll. I don’t just go around hurting people, despite what you may think. But I have to say, this is quite an impassioned defence of someone you’re ‘just friends’ with” he said sardonically, using finger quotes for your words.

Your panic gives way to anger again, his smug smirk a catalyst for your rage. The wine in your bloodstream certainly not helping your rational brain or negotiation skills in the moment.

“Well he is just my friend, alright? Not that I need to justify myself to you of all people...I don’t want him to get hurt because of me. I don’t know what sort of fucked up show you’re running here. I certainly can’t seem to get away from it, but I’ll be damned if I stand by and let innocent people get caught up in it too” you shout, practically spitting with rage.

Bucky sighs. “Doll…”

You raise a hand to silence him.

“No. You wanted to talk? Let’s talk. Steve, you can listen too if you want as James can’t seem to go ten feet without his guard dog. The fact is, I have no idea what your game is. I liked you a lot. Alright? I used to enjoy our little back and forth. Whatever it was. It was fun. And then we fucked and you treated me like a leper, cancelling our date and parading ANOTHER WOMAN in front of me days later at my own fucking workplace. Laughing at me. Watching me get upset and revelling in it. And then you send me eight million balloons and have your goons follow me. And I nearly get hit by a car trying to chase them off. And I meet a new guy. A nice guy who actually liked me who doesn’t treat me like a toy, or a cat playing with a mouse. And I can’t even enjoy that because I’m followed everywhere I go. And I tell you to leave me alone but you ignore me, just dig up information on my date and wait for me outside my house and have the gall to smirk at me like I’m crazy…”

You find yourself short of breath, the venom of your monologue catching you off guard. Your blood turns to ice as the reality of what you’ve said hits you, nervous he’ll lose it at you.

Bucky just stares back at you, unreadable as always. You briefly wonder if you’ve finally pushed him too far and you’re going to end up buried in the cement under a new apartment complex. Your stare snaps to Steve who also just returns your gaze, equally impenetrable. Bucky’s eyes briefly betray a slither of hurt too, and even though everything you’ve said is justified you can’t help but almost feel a pang of longing for him.

Bucky looks you up and down, your words ringing in his ears as guilt begins to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry” he says forlornly.

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Neither of you saw that coming.

“I know I treated you badly after our night together, Doll. It was stupid. I lost my head a bit, thinking you weren’t into me. So I played a game, I thought it was going to be an extension of our banter and I misjudged it. And then I was too stubborn to apologise”.

He sounds quiet and subdued, a far cry from his usual self.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. “Oh…well. Thank-you. I appreciate that” you reply softly.

He approaches you and his hand glides into your hair, his fingers stroking the side of your head as he gazes at you. You find yourself letting him touch you, moving closer to him, entranced by his sea blue eyes as he continues.

“I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I genuinely didn’t mean to. I feel crazy around you, if I’m honest. Like I can’t keep my shit together. And it just feels like every time I try and fix it I just make it worse”.

You soften as you stroke his metal hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Your faces are so close together that you can make out every mole and freckle on his cheek.

“All you had to do was say that” you tell him softly.

Steve takes that cue to disappear back into the car, giving you both some privacy.

Bucky smiles, his flesh hand moving to your chin and caressing it softly.

“I think about our night all the time” he admits.

“Me too...” you admit, your eyes glazed with lust.

“I know I’ve got a lot of making up to do” he tells you, and you smile back at him.

“You really do” you smirk.

His lips crash into yours and you’re momentarily breathless as you allow yourself to be lost in the kiss. Every sensation from the last time comes flooding back as his tongue slips into your mouth and your fingers find their way into his hair. It’s so good. It’s perfect. It’s everything you want.

He pulls away briefly and rests his forehead against yours.

“Quill will be fine” he whispers. “He’s just going to get roughed up a tiny bit. Just to send a message. But he’ll be alright” he says soothingly.

You gasp, unable to comprehend his casual tone with the horror of what he's saying as you place your hands on his chest and shove him firmly away from you.

“What? Why?? He didn’t do anything!” You splutter furiously.

“I just need to be sure he understands that you’re just ‘friends’” he replies calmly. “And that my men see that he’s been dealt with. They know who you are to me. They can’t work for me with respect knowing I let another man take you out”.

You scoff, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of what he’s telling you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you practically scream at him. “I’m not like your fucking car that he scratched. We aren’t even together” you sneer, waving your fingers between the two of you.

Bucky shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Messages need to be sent” he said coolly as his hands moved down to your hips. “Like I said, we’ll go easy on him, you don’t have to worry”.

You gasp in horror as you shake yourself away from his grip. Suddenly all of your rage and upset comes flooding back, the kiss long forgotten.

Every instinct tells you to flee. To get the hell out of there, away from this monster - away from the man who talks about beating people so casually that you’d think he was reciting a lunch order.

But you think of Peter. And he’s the most important person to think about right now so you can’t run. You couldn’t live with yourself if he got hurt. You need to make sure he’s safe. And to do that you need to speak Bucky’s language.

“Listen” you tell him firmly, your eyes blazing. “If anything happens to Peter. Anything at all. I will never speak to or acknowledge you again. And I mean that. I will quit the bakery and move my ass to a different state just to get away from you. You understand me?” you warn him. "Maybe even leave the east coast altogether".

He blinks at you, surprised by your outburst. You take his silence as your cue to continue.

“And I will spend the rest of my days trying to bringing your down. Police. Feds. Anyone. I mean it. I’ll just keep going until I find someone not in your pocket. You hear me?”

Your mouth is dry and you’re trembling but you’ve said it now. You just hope it’s enough, that it sticks.

After a beat of silence which seems to stretch on forever, he replies.

“You done?” Bucky questions, deadpan.

“Almost. Keep the fuck away from me, you fuckin’ sociopath” you snarl.

Bucky laughs. “Always the fiery one, aren’t you Doll? Alright. I won’t touch Quill. I promise. Scout’s honour. And I’ll leave you alone like you want. That’s no problem”.

You nod, surprised he acquiesced and expecting more of a fight.

He takes a step towards you and suddenly his eyes seem darker. You step away from him instinctively.

“But Doll, trust me when I say this…” he says with a quiet intensity which chills you. “If I ever hear that you’re going to the police about me...or the feds...I won’t be half as agreeable as I am right now”.

He cups your chin and squeezes your cheeks together in his metal hand as you feel your legs nearly give way from under you. His grip isn’t hard, but you feel the impact of his threat. He places a small kiss on your lips before releasing you and heading back to the car.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work, Doll” he grins darkly.

The door slams and the car pulls away a second later. You’re left standing alone in the road, distant noises of the city gradually filling your ears as you catch your breath. You briefly fall to your knees, rubbing your fingers across the tarmac of the road in an attempt to ground yourself.

You finally stand again, exhaling. Peter is safe. You are safe. It will all be alright. You can make a new start. He won’t be bothering you now. You’ll be okay.

As you stumble towards your apartment you’re so worked up that you don’t even notice the scurrying footsteps emerging from behind you. Seconds later it all goes dark and you realise to your horror that someone has put a bag or a sack or something made of material over your head. The fibres scratch uncomfortably against your skin.

You try to scream but a firm hand clamps over your mouth and you find yourself pushed along by strong arms. You hear a car door opening as hushed voices chatter. You’re thrown inside a vehicle, crashing against the floor of either a van or a truck as you hear the echo of the engine rumbling beneath you. You try to scramble up onto your knees but someone grabs your hands, a zip tie is sealed around your wrists and suddenly you’re helpless. You desperately try to vault yourself up onto your knees again but a gruff voice you don’t recognise speaks and you stop in your tracks.

“Just stay right there, princess” the stranger tells you. “We’re going on a little ride. And you’re gonna wanna sit tight for it”.

You go to protest but feel something hard and metal pushes into the small of your back. Despite never feeling one before, you know immediately that it’s the barrel of a gun.

Finally you stay still as you feel your fear build, laying on the floor of the vehicle, waiting patiently for your next instruction.

*

Bucky’s head is in his hands as Steve drives them back to the house.

“Just had to double down on Quill, huh?” Steve asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Steve..” Bucky warns.

“Had her in the palm of your hand...after all this time and all that scheming…and you threw it away because you couldn’t resist a beating…”

“Steve…I swear to God…”

“Jussayin’. How can you literally be kissing her one moment and have her threatening to rat you out to the feds on you the next? That’s impressive”.

Bucky ignores Steve and sighs. He’s angry at you, fuming even – especially at your threat to rat him out. Not that you know a lot anyway, he has purposefully kept his world separate from you – but still, you’d been inside his home, you know nearly all of his men by name or at least by face. He was sure you still had at least some of the cash he’d given you, and it was possible a couple of the serial numbers could be linked to a job or two…

You didn’t have enough to take him down, not with his ironclad business fronts and hotshot lawyers – but you potentially had enough to make his life more difficult than he’d like.

But he knew Steve was right. He was so close to winning you round, and he blew it. He saw red when he’d seen you kissing Quill, lost his head for a second. This was how he dealt with things, it’s what he knew. Even if you and Quill had agreed to just be friends like you said, it had sent a barrel of rage through him that someone else had touched you. Had felt your lips against theirs.

Even though he knew it was all his own fault.

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish. 

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from. 

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat. 

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one. 

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours. 

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again. 

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year. 

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.” 

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state. 

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady. 

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep. 

-

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else. 

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it. 

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father. 

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him. 

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance. 

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did. 

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before. 

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish. 

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping. 

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin. 

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people. 

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet. 

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t. 

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before. 

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you. 

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story. 

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year. 

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells. 

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place. 

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!” 

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage. 

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year. 

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up. 

“I volunteer.” 

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?” 

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone. 

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers. 

“Mercedes Blythe.” 

It almost didn’t register. 

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though. 

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you. 

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena. 

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

-

Tags (open):

[on-tracks-and-playlists]

BREEZED ALONG US

Pairing: Bang chan x yn

Genre: fluff, extreme cuteness

Word count: 1.6k words

This isy first fan fic I am writing😬😁 pls bare with me and let me know if u like it 🫶🫶

The evening breeze swayed your hair as you sat by the open window of your warm study room, facing the beach. The calm and smooth shades of the sunlight filtered itself on to your favorite novel, The Fault in Our Stars. Although you have read the book to the point, where you have already mugged up every scenario without leaving any possible detail, it always made your heart thump with excitement and pleasure.

You closed the book with a heavy sigh as you finished the last chapter of the book for the umpteenth time. Leaving the book on the table, you neared the window, admiring the sunset. The door creaked behind you, indicating that someone entered.

"Finally, You guys are exhausted from playing on the beach since afternoon." You teased jokingly, not even bothered to see who entered. "Uh-huh" he responded, as you faced him, "they are still by the beach." He placed the book you were reading to where it belonged and headed towards you.

"Why did you leave them then, I was just about to join you." Saying so you resumed what you were doing before he entered, rather flustered by what you saw.

It's not like you didn't see your boyfriend shirtless before... it's just... this time it... hits different. His perfectly sculpted face, with the plumpest lips you've ever seen. The beach tanned skin with a tint of pink on his cheeks, from all the exhaustive activities he did on the beach. The hours he spent vigorously working out in the gym with his friends were evidently visible when you saw his abs and the buff arms, and damn they were so tempting. Not to mention that the pearly drops of water dripping on his forehead from his yet to dry hair from the shower and the towel slung around his broad shoulders barely covering his chest, were not helping your state much either.

"Well is it wrong if I want to spend some 'us' time with my girlfriend?" His voice snapped you out of your fantasy. "And besides I highly doubt that you would have joined us there on the beach." He said in a matter-of-fact way.

You laughed at his last statement.

True that you were not someone who would enjoy beaches. Mostly because you hated the sand that piled up between your toes and got stuck on to your feet making it feel itchy, or was it because you hated being dragged into the salty waters. Well the reasons were many, but your best excuse was that you were not a great swimmer like your boyfriend.

"Beautiful view isn't it?" He whispered, standing behind you. His strong Australian accent sending shivers down your spine.

You looked up at him, only to find him smiling at you. Dimples prominently visible. You returned his gesture and said

"Indeed. But I've seen beautifuller things"

"Pfft... Beautifuller.... Is that even a term?..."

His laugh made your heart flutter. You would literally fight anyone and anything that could possibly be the reason for your boyfriend to stop this action of his.

Nevertheless you gave him a stern look "I don't follow dictionaries, I create my own vocab." You puffed your cheeks.

"OK. OK. Stop sulking" he chuckled, while pinching your cheeks.

"Now, will you please throw some lights on to what this 'beautifuller' thing is? Y/N." He asked, putting extra emphasis on the word he learned just moments ago.

A smirk crept on your face as you answered his query, "My boyfriend." You leaned back, making yourself comfortable on his chest, "My boyfriend is the most beautiful man in this world, both inside and out."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He scoffed, taking it as a joke.

"BANG CHRISTOPHER CHAN." You raised your voice a bit, pulling away from his warmth. You glared at him straight into the eyes and continued "Just face it. I can literally click a random candid pic of yours, frame it in an exhibition and it would still get me enough money to last for, like, six to seven months - no wait... maybe even more. Yes, you are that beautiful. "

"Yeah, whatever you think, sweetie."

He placed his wet forehead on top of yours while you dried his hair using his towel.

You suddenly felt his hands snake around your waist and your body stiffned under his skin.

"I swear Chan, if you are planning to do that I won't hesitate to kick you right now."

This was definitely not the response he was expecting from you as he detached your foreheads with a rather quizzical and worried expression on his face.

"Do what?" He asked with a face that read WAY-TO-RUIN-THE-MOOD.

"Come on Chan." You rolled your eyes, as he buried his face in to your neck. "You know how much I hate tickles."

"Well, you see..." he spoke, not even bothering to change his position "I was not planning on doing anything, but... now that you mentioned it..." you could literally see him smirking even though his face was hidden.

"No. Please Chan. No. No. No. No. No."

You perked to the side as his fingers sent weird tickling sensations at your waist. You danced weirdly, as if you just saw a roach crawling on the floor, trying to free yourself from his surprisingly tight grip. Lucky for you that you plopped on the bed besides or else you would have crouched down on the floor, even bonking your head on one of the walls.

I mean, that's just a possibility.

Your stomach ached as Chan merciless tickled you. Your laughter resonated in the room as you started to find it hard to breathe.

"There." Chan said, satisfied by his act. "I guess, that's enough for now." He sat up, looking at your pathetic state recover from this torture.

"What do you mean 'for now', this is enough to last me a life time. I hate you." You free fell into the pillows of the bed, letting your head sink in them.

"I love you too, Y/N" he stated, making his way to your left.

A long sigh escaped your lips as you stared at the white ceiling above.

"I can't believe it. We'll be leaving tomorrow evening." You spoke, breaking the sweet silence that engulfed you two.

Chan hummed in agreement.

"Then, why did you not come and spend the day with us at the beach, huh." He stirred to his right to face you.

"And watch you guys have all the fun while I am seated under the umbrella. Nope. Thanks. I would rather love being locked in a room with tons of books. You don't know the struggles of being the only girl with eight idiots." You said, rather dramatically. "Not to mention that, Jisung and Felix can get handful at times when they are together."

You received a chuckle from the guy beside you.

"To be honest, it's not my fault that I am the only one who's dating a beautiful woman, and the fact that you preferred inviting all of them rather than some of your friends." He reasoned. "Come to think of it, why even bother to invite them, when it could have been just you and me?" He asked, pulling you closer into a hug.

"Well, that could have been done. But then this week would have been annoyingly silent without them." You mentioned the commotion causing group of seven young lads, or in Chan's terms 'my chaotic younger brothers', who accompanied you on this little week long trip of yours with your boyfriend.

"I know they are a mess, but they are the mess that makes you happy, and you happy makes me happy. And I kinda love them." You spoke, establishing the fact that you have grown used to the gang over the past three months of your relation with Chan and how much they meant to you.

"Not more than me, right?" He asked pulling you closer to him.

"Nope. Not more than you, cupcake." You assured, leaning towards him.

As if anticipated, he came forward sealing the gap between you into a soft kiss. What was supposed to be a light kiss on your lips soon turned into a heated make out session, which could have deepened into something even more passionate if it weren't for the constant knocking on the door.

Both Chan and you were quick with your actions. Chan went to receive the door while you randomly picked up the book from the bed, opening it to any page. The door opened only to reveal the second eldest from the group.

"Hyung, we are- Oh I did not know Y/n could read a book upside-down." Minho pointed out in your direction.

"Yeah, it's one of the many special abilities I have." You chuckled nervously, slowly correcting your mistake.

Minho simply smirked turning his attention back to his hyung. "Anyways, we are heading out for dinner; you both should get ready for it." He turned back to leave, only to stop midway. "And by the way you should wash your face Channie hyung, Y/n's lip balm is smudged all over your jawline." Saying so, Minho closed the door behind him.

You took a breath you have been holding for this long. Chan gave you a soft smile as he walked to reach the bed. But suddenly he halted in his track with eyes as wide as a disk. It was then that realization struck to both of you.

"He found out, didn't he? God! He is such a good observer."

"Yes Y/n he did. Brace up for the teasing we're getting today."

[yamst3rdamctrl]

When Sexual Desires Clash Y/N Story

Chapter 5

Y/N woke up to the smell of food cooking. Before she could even move, she felt the soreness between her legs and smiled at the thought of what happened last night. Y/N walked down to the kitchen and saw everyone. "Good morning, yal!" Y/N said happily, and everyone said it back.

Michael kept his eyes on Y/N as her hips swayed in her sundress. His dick started to get hard after the thoughts of what happened last night flood his brain. Y/N heads to the balcony, enjoying the breeze and the view of the estate while eating her breakfast. All of a sudden, Michael comes out to join her on the balcony while eating his breakfast as well. Today is the last day at the estate, Michael feels the urge to talk to Y/N before they leave.

"Beautiful morning, love. How are you this morning?" Michael asked. Y/N looked at Michael with lust and said, "I'm good, love, wby?" Michael bit his lips and said, "I'm good would've been great if your pussy was on my face but soon it will be." Y/N damn near spit out her drink which made Michael chuckle. Michael broke the chuckle and said, "Before we leave here, I want to make this clear. I want us to be companions and friends with benefits. I want us to be aware that anytime, any place, and so forth and so on we are fucking regards. If you agree, take my phone, put your number in mine, and I'll put mine in yours." Y/N did not hesitate unlocking her phone and exchanging it with Michael. She knew that she needed that experience again, and she's not backing down. The rest of the morning going into the afternoon, everyone had packed their bags and parted ways.

Y/N made it home to her house and unpacked, and relaxed the entire day, knowing she needed to help choreograph and star in the Just Dance 2023 series. Y/N was excited because this was one of her dreams she wanted to do since a child. Going into the evening, Y/N cooked herself a meal, cleaned up, and watched a movie. It was just around 10 p.m., and she started to feel hot and horny. Y/N didn't want a vibrator. She wanted HIM. The one who made her cum twice, the one who made her feel so good she couldn't control herself. In the midst of her thoughts, she began to get an incoming FaceTime from nobody else, but her sexual desire.

Michael smiled when she answered eyes filled with lust. "Wyd baby girl?" He spoke, sounding very lustful. "In bed watching TV, why what's up?" Michael was walking out of his place on FaceTime and hopped in his car. Michael cranked his car, looked at the camera, bit his lip, and said, "I'm on my way to come take your soul outta your body. Send the addy, and when I get there, you better have the door unlocked, and you're naked in bed. See you in a minute." Michael instantly hung up the phone without saying anything else or even giving Y/N the option to say yes or no. Y/N instantly sent the address to Michael and stayed in her clothes. She thought to herself that if he wants me, he could rip my clothes off me. Y/N laid in bed watching TV for the next 15 - 25 minutes, and then she went to the bathroom to freshen up. Once she came out of the bathroom, there stood a horny Michael in orange basketball shorts and no shirt. He then looked at her in her eyes and said, "I thought I told you to be naked when I get here. I guess I'm just going to have to punish you for not listening. I hope you are ready."

Chileeeee I can't wait to give this to yal! Srri for the late update!

[ynbabe]

Lockwood & Co. Incorrect quotes, pt.6

Before Lucy 

Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks! Anthony: Why would I do that? Y/n: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*The Squad is eating dinner* George: Can you pass the salt? Anthony: *throws Y/n across the table*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George, after Anthony did something stupid: You should have realised, Anthony, if Y/n didn't kill you, I would have.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: When will Ted himself...finally show up to the talk? Anthony: The final boss. George: You guys know TEDtalks stands for technology, entertainment, and design talks, right? Y/n: I will not let Ted hide behind these lies any longer!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, in love: How do you do that? Y/n, after having done something dumb: I'm fearless. George, having introduced the idiots and now regretting it: When we were kids, I saw you run from bees. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad. Y/n: I'm mostly fearless.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: My aesthetic is "would be sentenced to the chair by DEPRAC."

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Who hurt you? Anthony, always on the edge of a mental breakdown: *snorting* What, do you want a list? Y/n, pulling out ALOT of iron/silver weapons: ...Yes, actually.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?! Y/n: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long line of violence. Anthony: Oh... George, from across the room: *from across the room* I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: It’s not gonna work, I’m not a snitch. George: Fine, let's try something else. Tag a friend you recently committed a crime with. Y/n: Lmao, @Anthony.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: I hate you. Y/n: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, after a fight with Y/n: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing her name to Y/n.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, grave-robbing: I’m going to hell. Anthony, there for a case: Probably. Y/n: I'll pick you up? Anthony: *nodding* Carpool.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, pissed : Y/n! I thought you were dead! Y/n, back after running away for a year: No, just in deep cover. Anthony, about to lose his mind: ...But it was an open casket. Y/n, little scared now: It was very deep.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Hold on, I can explain! Anthony: Really? Can you now? Y/n: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Since Lucy

George, trying to joke: Hey, Joe said he's coming over this afternoon. Y/n, expecting a ‘delivery’: Cool. George: Do you know who Joe is? Y/n: JOE MAMA! Anthony, not even looking up from his phone: Damn, that backfired.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, just back home: Do you cook? Lucy: I made a cake once. Anthony: Yeah, it was good. Lucy: Really? Anthony: Don’t make me lie twice, Luce.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n, back from sneaking around for state secrets: Anthony! For the love of god, please turn down that music. I have a hangover. Anthony, pissed at her: *blasting the mii theme at full volume* That sounds like a you problem, not a mii problem.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: For most of human history, vehicles had automatic collision avoidance and could even take you home if you were asleep or drunk. But then we got rid of the horse. George: You complete moron. You stupid fucking idiot. "Cars would be better if they could bite and shit" – that was you just now, dumbass. George: "Wouldn't it be cool if cars could piss? Wouldn't it be cool if cars could fuck?" Fuck off. Y/n: It would be cool if cars could fuck. Lucy: We... We still have horses.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, to Y/n, since they’re sharing a room,: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your side of the room for food. Clean your side and you will find it.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lucy: It’s funny how well you and George get along. Didn’t they hate you at first? Y/n: George hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I just found out from Lucy today that when I ‘died’ and George threw my weapons in the grave, Anthony said, “You should aim one at the coffin to be sure.”

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I give up. I am so tired. George: Get the emergency supply! Lucy: *carries Anthony and throws him in front of Y/n* Anthony: *smiles* Y/n: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

[nights-legacy]

Body Snatched-Best Jeanist Platonic

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

Body Snatched Masterlist

1654 Words

Warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted touches, attempted assault, crudeness, violence (if there's any I need to add, please let me know)

+ You had been a sidekick under Best Jeanist for a few years. He had hand-picked you when it came to intership and working under him. You had become like family to him. So when someone couldn't take a hint and continued making you uncomfortable after you said you weren't interested, he didn't take it lightly. Especially when that person goes way out of line.

~

There were a few people in Best Jeanist's agency that you don't get along with. One especially because they would not take no for an answer when you turned them down. One day, after they got switched in a quirk accident with one of your friends at the agency, he decides to try as them. Too bad it gets to the head hancho before he could "convince" you.

Y/N's POV

"Here are the reports for the train accident this morning. And this is my half of the report for that Blackout villain from yesterday." I handed Best Jeanist the folders. He nodded while setting them in front of him. "Has there been any update on that mall attack from this afternoon?"

"Yes, it seems that the villain had a quirk that set off other people's quirks. The amount of people affected is still unknown as well as what all the quirks involved were." He explained.

"Damn." I bit my lip. "Anything I can do?"

"No. Some of the heroes are already returning. You have already put in over a full day. Go home." He looked away from his computer and I knew he was smiling under this suit. "I mean it."

"Fine." I left his office and walked through the agency. I greeted a few people and checked on some of the returning coworkers. I was just about to get to the locker rooms when I heard a familiar voice calling out to me.

"L/N!" I turn to see Mist Walker or Minato Kolby. the was my best friend here and had the power of fog and mist.

"Hey Mist!" I waved. "You were involved with the attack right?"

"Yeah but I'm alright." He smiled and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"Good." I sighed in relief. "I was worried."

"I'm alright sweetheart." He said. The nickname was new. I could feel the energy shift between us.

"Well, I'm on my way home. I'm going to take a shower and get out of here. See ya." I waved and retreated to the locker rooms. 

I quickly went to my locker and stripped out of my hero suit. I groaned in relief. The showers were very nice here. Jeanist made sure we were taken care of in everyway under his roof. The hot water ran down my back and over my sore muscles. The locker room doors opened but it didn't bother me. I swore I heard the lock shift though.

"Hello?" I called out. there was no answer. I quickly finished up and turned the water off, wrapping my towel around me. I walked out and looked around. The energy in the room was way off.

"Did I scare you?" Mist whispered in my ear.

"Holy shit! Dude!" I turned and hit him in the chest. I shook my head. He chuckled and I went to my locker. "Not funny."

"Maybe a little bit it was." I rolled my eyes and unwrapped my towel. I saw his eyes widen.

"What's wrong?"

"Um, you're naked."

"Yeah. It's not like you haven't seen it before dude." I began to dry off and dry my hair. I noticed he was staring at my body in hunger. "Kolby? You good?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, perfectly fine." He continued to stare which was very weird. I slowly rewrapped my towel around me.

"No you're not. You're staring at me as if I were your last meal." I said.

"And?" He met my gaze and shrugged his shoulders. "What's wrong with that?"

"You're married! And he would be pissed if he knew."

"What a minute, What?" He exclaimed. The look in his eyes told me he was genuinely confused. 

"You definitely had something happen out there today." I picked up my phone to call someone when a simple text from Jeanist on my phone made me pause. Mist is Raven. Raven or Tanaka Daichi. He was another coworker that was almost obsessed with me. He wouldn't take no for an answer when I turned him down.

"So you and Mist aren't together?" I turned to him.

"No, we're not." I said, annoyed. "You just exposed yourself as Raven."

"Shit" He muttered. The locker rooms had quirk dampeners to try and discourage fights in there. I was upset about that because one on one, I could never beat Mist. He was stronger than me by a lot. So Raver in Mist's body was a recipe for disaster.

"Leave now. I've told you time and time again, I am not interested." He glared at me.

"Maybe I could convince you..." He started advancing on me. I stepped back and avoided him.

"Nothing you could do could convince me."

"We'll see." He charged at me and being only in a towel was a disadvantage. He was able to grab me and pull me back into his chest. 

"Shit! Let go!" I tried to elbow him but he pinned my arms to my side. I squirmed and unforchunately, my towel slipped off. He laughed and let his hands travel across my naked skin.

"Well look at that." He licked my neck before grabbing my chin harshly. He turned my face and kissed me, sticking his tongue down my throat. I pursed away When he let go. He picked me up and took me to the floor. I tried to fight him but he pinned me to the ground by straddling my back.

"Get off!" I yelled. The room was getting stuffy and it was getting hard to breathe. I could hear him unbuckling his belt. With a hand on the center of my back he got off and pulled my hips up. "No!"

"Stop moving!" He sneered, molding his body over mine. I could feel him trying to enter me but was having trouble due to impatience.

"No, no, no." I began to panic.

As everything was getting too overwhelming and he was about to push in, he froze up above me. Everything went still and I was finally able to breathe. I risked a look over my shoulder to see him looking like he could barely breathe. I looked down to see his shirt was extremely tight. I took the opportunity to crawl away from him.

"Ah!" I was spooked when a towel was immediately flung over me. I pulled it in close and looked around. Best Jeanist stood at the door to the locker room. Tears clouded my eyes. Half from the situation at hand and then half from the embarrassment of being seen in this situation. I wrapped the towel around me, grabbed my clothes, and darted to the other side of the room. I hid in a corner.

"Get this seam ripper out of here." I faintly heard Best Jeanist snap as I got dressed. Silent tears cascaded down my face. Footsteps came towards me but I was too embarrassed to look up.

"L/N? Are you hurt?" I shook my head. He sighed and sat on the floor next to me. I shrunk into myself. "Hey... it's going to be alright. Maybe not now or even tomorrow. But this can be mended."

"I should have..."

"No." He cut me off firmly. "None of this was your fault. He is completely to blame. He broke his stitch. What he did was out of lime, unforgivable, and he is going to be cut and arrested."

"Okay." I nodded. He placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at him. He smiled under his collar.

"You are not a broken hem that can't be restitched." I chuckled through the tears.

"Thank you." I said. He poked me into a hug.

"You're welcome." I hugged him for a while. "You are taking a required leave for at least two weeks."

"But sir..." 

"If you argue I will make it 4 weeks." He said. I sighed and agreed. "I also want you to go see a therapist. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay. I will also be checking up on you after." He said before getting up. "Come on. I'm making sure you get home Okay."

"Thank you." I got up and got my stuff. We walked through the halls towards the exit.

"Y/N! Wait!" I turned to see Kolby running my way. I gasped. "It's me I promise. I've already been told what happened and I'm so sorry! Raven got knocked out and then we were switched. I had no way of telling anyone until I woke up. I'm so sorry, N/N."

"Kolby." I hugged him before pulling away.

"Mr. Minato. I want you to go to the physician immediately and then you are required to take at least a week off. Am I clear?" Jeanist ordered.

"Yes sir."

"Good, now I need to get L/N home."

"Goodbye Sir. Bye N/N. Get some rest."

"I will." We walked to the parking garage and to his car. Once We made it to my apartment, he ruffled my hair.

"If you need anything. don't hesitate to ask."

"I won't. Thanks, Jeanist. You've always looked out for me."

"You're welcome, L/N. You've become like family to me and I look out for my family." I smile and step out of the car. "Text me when you get inside your apartment. Okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight, Jeanist."

"Goodnight, my dear." I started to walk away. "Oh, and L/N?"

"Yes?" I turned back.

"There will be someone posted outside for a weele just in case. For anything."

"Okay." I turned and Went into the safety of my apartment.

Tag List: @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @keigos-baby-bird

[themoonitselff]

Love Letters | Kurapika x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: Slightly mentions of depression, just angst and fluff. THIS WAS MADE WITH TRANSLATOR, BE GENTLE. Any suggest is fine💖

Summary: You always send poems to Leorio, but they arrived to his best friend.

You lived on the other side of the world, you were a writer known for your novels who worked in a bookstore to support your few earnings in your works, you had several friends, among them, Leorio Paradiknight, you knew him for a long time, since you were teenagers, but you took different paths, he was a doctor who helped those who could not afford his treatments, and a hunter who survived the dark continent, while you went for the artistic faculties side and a more peaceful life, but what could never be erased since you met him were your feelings for him. You usually write to each other from time to time, he tells you about his adventures with his friends and the reckless things he usually does with his money, and you respond by telling him about your new ideas for new stories, you were so close but yet so far ....

This time, you found yourself determined to write him poems anonymously, with your writer name, because he thinks you put your real name on your books, but you didn't. You took a pen and started writing, every word was aligned with your heartbeat, every sentence seemed to be taken out of a fairy tale, and the way you expressed yourself was different from how you used to talk to him, you were cordial, polite, kind, and flattering, you finished the letter and when you read it, you were surprised with your own words.

"My dear, your beauty resembles the luster of a pearl.

Delicate, brilliant, unique.

Let me be the golden chain that complements you, because from me you will never fall, golden prince."

Short, but ethereal.

You put it in a beige envelope, and sealed it with red wax, next to a daisy, finally you added perfume as a detail, and wrote his address, your heart almost coming out of your throat. The days passed, and became weeks, and the weeks became 2 months, and he still didn't answer, but he kept writing you normally and he didn't answer your anonymous letter... Did he get it? Did he like it? Did he know it was you? Does he like you?

2 months before

He was in his room, a depressing room with four walls and little light, next to the mess that all his discomfort was causing, he was rotting in the agony of revenge, the thirst for power and seeing the face of those who took his family away from him in silence. Suddenly, a ding dong chimed at the front door, Kurapika felt a strange feeling in his stomach, since no one knew where hr was staying, not even his friends.

He got up from his dying bed and opened the door.

"Good afternoon, this letter has been sent to you a few weeks ago, from [Your continent]." mused the delivery man, he seemed rushed by his tone of voice.

"A letter? "Kurapika took it, it had a postcard and it smelled quite nice, you could say the scent made him wake up.

"That's right... Well, I have to go, I have more things to deliver!" and he ran off, leaving the young blond behind him at the door.

"Wait! ... Damn!" Kurapika exclaimed, he went inside his apartment and closed the door, looking carefully at the letter.

It had vintage details, and it was in perfect condition, it had no Nen on it, it was a harmless letter and not a trap from any of his enemies looking for him: The Chain User.

He sat on the couch in front of a short legged table, and opened this letter carefully, unfolded the sheet and read the text carefully, it was very short, but the words embodied provoked a different feeling in him.

Warmth in his chest, tickles in his ribs, butterflies in his stomach. He was enraptured. He saw the author's note and his eyebrows went up, his favorite author of novels was writing to him. To him!? It couldn't be, because they didn't know each other.

"I have to return this letter, this is a mistake" He muttered, he was about to leave his place when, again, that feeling in his chest attacked him, it's like when fire embraces you with its burning embers, but it didn't burn, not at all. His intrusive thoughts wouldn't let him give it back, even if his morals attacked him, an internal struggle with himself not to be nosy and steal something that isn't his, use the identity of the author's lover, maybe.

But how bad could it be?

His feelings and illusions ended up winning over his brain, and he went to a table to write in response to that beautiful poem that caught his attention.

It sparked an interest in them.

You didn't think he was going to answer you, but he did, week after week waiting at the letter carrier's office for his message, and viceverse, both were in love with each other, but without knowing each other yet, you thought he was Leorio, and Kurapika didn't know who you were. But what you both knew is that soon, that was going to change, you were planning a flight to Japan just to see him and reveal him your identity, who you were, you never thought that Leorio could be so serious, mysterious and charming, you could say that even the writing was different(MAYBE BC HE'S NOT LEORIO👹), but it doesn't matter, you fell harder for him, you were going to meet in Yorkshin specifically, on an iconic bridge of the place, you couldn't wait to meet his lips with yours, his eyes pierce your soul and connect both of your bodies.

The day came, you got your bags off the plane and went to your reservation at a luxurious hotel, at this point you were already loaded with money from your excellent sales, it was no problem where to stay, you dressed up as best you could and 10 minutes before you were already on site.

When you arrived, no one was there yet, you sighed with relief, you didn't want Leorio to notice yet, you ran the risk of losing the relationship you had with him for a long time, but a part of your heart said it didn't matter, we were all born to die.

Minutes passed and, he still didn't arrive, you stared at the lake below the bridge until the Sun set and you gave up, your crystal clear eyes ruined your facial routine and your feet were tired of waiting, telling yourself what a fool you are for believing that someone like him would set his eyes on you.

Then, a tall, blond, pale-skinned man stood next to you, you didn't notice him, it was as if he had appeared out of nowhere, you jumped in fright and then realizing you were crying, you wiped your tears and looked away.

"Excuse me, do you know where [xxx] is? "You asked him to leave at once, your foreign accent was noticeable for miles.

"It's six blocks from here." He answered dryly, without looking you in the face, his eyes were droopy, empty, they didn't shine despite the evening illumination, his aura was mysterious, dim, interesting.... But you already loved someone else.

"Thank you." You thanked before you left.

Before you turned around, the stranger turned to see you, your appearance looked similar to him, he searched in his memories who you looked like until he realized that you were that famous writer, he didn't hesitate to go behind you to take your arm and stop you.

"Excuse me." He said, you turned to look at him confused, tilting your head slightly waiting for him to explain himself. "I... I know you."

"I don't know who you are.." You said, still dumbfounded.

The stranger looked lost, as if he was searching for an excellent answer, he was silent for a while, you just rolled your eyes and disengaged from his grip, going on your way.

Then, you heard his voice again behind you.

"Wait!" You saw him again. His eyes unlike the first time you saw them, they were bright, flashing red pigments, you could feel a good feeling from him, from his very formal dress, his long straight hair, his style so.... Hungry for life.

"Yes?"

...

"I'm your prince... Your golden prince."

THIS WQS MESSY I KNOW I MEAN I DIDN'T EVEN MADE A MASTERLIST HAAHHAJA IDK HOW TO MAKE ONEZ ANYWAYS

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: Smooth Hips Turner

Today is @nomadicpixel birthday and a few days ago I asked if there was something she'd like me to write her for birthday. Her answer was something hockey romance, with either Cole Turner, Andy Barber or Colin Shea. I had an idea immediately... but that one didn't work out... and I'd given up all hopes of actually being able to write something when this little scene popped into my head this afternoon. Enjoy!

Title: Smooth Hips Turner

Pairing: Cole Turner x female reader

Rating: G

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context. 

"Is that who I think it is?"

You barely heard your friend's question, but turned in the direction she was looking and found yourself locking eyes with the "who" in question.

Cole Turner.

You knew him as your younger brother's childhood best friend.

Everyone else in the bar knew him as Cole "Smooth Hips" Turner, the new free agent goalie for the local professional hockey team.

"Oh my god, he's coming this way!" your friend exclaimed.

As he made his way towards you, stopped nearly every foot by an excited patron, you tried to recall the last time you'd seen him. The only for sure meeting you could remember was his and your brother's high school graduation nearly twenty years ago. He'd been 18 at the time and you'd been 20.

The years had been good to him, you saw. 4 years in college hockey and 16 at the professional level had done him good. Gone was the lanky teenager who had helped your brother annoy you. In his place, was a rock solid man, with a full beard, perfectly tufted hair and a charming smile.

"Well I'll be damned," his voice declared as he finally reached the table. "I heard you lived here, but I didn't think I'd run into you on my first night in town."

"And here I was trying to avoid you," you teased as you stood up to give him a hug.

It wasn't until you turned to introduce Cole to your friend that you saw that she was gaping at the pair of you in shock.

"Hi, I'm Cole," he said, holding out his hand to her.

She just blinked at him.

"Sorry," you said, slightly embarrassed by her behavior. Sitting down, you snapped your fingers in front of her face and she blinked.

"Oh my god," she whispered. "You know Smooth Hips?"

Cole flushed at the nickname, but sat down at the table and said, "I grew up next door to her. Her brother is my best friend." Then he added, conspiratorially, "I had the biggest crush on her as a teenager."

"Wait what?" you said. "You didn't."

"I swear I did," he said, leaning back in his seat. "It's the only secret I've ever kept from your brother."

"Did you have a crush on him?" your friend asked. "Is that why you keep the magazine where he's basically naked in your bedside table?"

Cole let out a shocked laugh while you wanted to climb under the table and hide.

Instead, you glared at your friend and she just shrugged as if to say "paybacks a bitch" for not telling her about Cole in the first place.

"I like you," Cole said, pointing at your friend. Then he turned back to you. "I've been here a few times to play, obviously, but I've never really gotten to explore. Wanna show an old friend around and catch up?"

"She'd love to," your friend answered for you. Then she nudged you with her elbow. "Give him your phone number."

After giving Cole your number, he said goodbye and went to join his friends at another table.

"You're welcome," your friend said.

You raised an eyebrow.

"I just got you a date with the hottest guy in hockey," she stated then grinned. "And if you're lucky, maybe he'll show you in person how he does those stretches he posts about on his socials that you like watching so much."

You shoved your friend's shoulder while she cackled.

[sunnydayroleplay]

Could you do Joseph and Jack with a mc who has a alt/grunge style? I'm talking piercings, double platform boots, ripped clothes, cool makeup, stuff like that. Only if you have the time or feel comfortable. Hope you have a good day/night

Sweet and simple, gotta love those.

I also saw your DM saying to add Shaun and Jean, so don't worry dearie, they're in there too~!

And with that, let’s write.

Contents Inside: Soft Flirting, Ear nipping, Neck kisses, Love Marking, Use of Sunshine, Baby, etc.., Sight jealousy…

18- DNI, this is a NSFW post and so is the game it is based off of. This is an 18+ community. It is for your own safety, and you interacting not only jeopardizes that, it jeopardizes mine, and the creators of the games. For SFW + 18- safe content, check out my art page instead. @feralhalfnhalfcreamer

———————————————————

Joseph

Joseph doesn’t really know the term “alternative fashion”, but he definitely dresses the part.

Those slick, hand stiched rose boots of his..

The chains and rounded studs all over his pants.

The beautifully well taken care of his.

His tattoos, his occasional necklace..

He’s not over the top, but he’s a big deal.

While he isn’t used to extreme fashion, such as full on gothic, or full kawaii-core, he’s open minded.

You’re having fun, and it aint bothering him, so why should he care?

Would he try out some of the styles himself?

Probably not, but if his sweetheart was into that sort of thing, he’d support 100%.

Not like he has any room to judge anyhow.

It was late in the afternoon when Joseph came home from work.

Stains of his red clown makeup still visible on his cheek and nose, his eyes droopy.

What he wants most right now is a well deserved cigarette and some lovin’ from his baby.

Slugging his bag over his distressed shoulders, he sloppily opened his bedroom door.

He quickly got himself all changed before he went out with you for the night.

You officially got to know him while you were on break and he was as well.

Slowly but surely you got to know him better, and you’re going on your first date with the guy.

Due to your work’s dresscode, you couldn’t wear platforms and your extreme sense of style at work, so no one had really known.

Boy, was he in for a shock.

After about a half hour, you received a knock on your door.

Excited, you answered it, and stood in the doorway was that same brown hair, muscle man.

You were decked out in your attire.

Piercings ranging from your septum, industrial, lip

Your platforms that damn well made you now only a few inches shorter than him.

Joseph was quite shocked.

He was surprised and slightly intimidated in a good way.

He pulled you closer by your waist.

Your noses touching as he looked at youu tenderly.

“Why aren’t you just peachy~ You’re beautiful.”

“Awh, don’t say thattt~”

“It’s true, you’re stunning!”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. extending out his arm for grabs.

“Shall we?”

You grab his arm all blushy.

He pressed his mouth closely to your ear, whispering softly inside.

“You’re gonna flush a guy to deathh~”

He gently kisses the tips of your ear after he finishes talking to you.

The way his lips felt was heavenly.

It was warm and filled you with such joy.

You wanna see what more can do after the date~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack

Jack was your bestest friend!

He loved you no matter what you were into.

As long as it wasn’t illegal and it wasn’t hurting you in any way, shape, or form, he was all for it!!

Jack loves being your biggest supporter for anything.

And your fashion choices were not an exception.

The first time he’d ever seen you with your crazed and teased hair, your chunky platforms, he wasn’t used to it that’s for sure.

Despite his shock, he loved it.

“Sunshine! You look so cool!”

“How do you get your hair to do that?”

“How tall do those boots make you?!”

“Do they not hurt?”

Jack asked question after question because he was genuinely interested in his sunspots interests.

He acted like a dog scratching and jumping at the front door when you promised to take them out for a walk.

It was sweet how he wanted to know everything.

The hows, whats, and whys.

You gave him a big hug, and he just squeezed you.

He picked you up off your feet from his big bear hug and he showered your face with kisses, not caring if he got some of your makeup onto him.

You had a nice laugh whenever he kissed your cheeks, lips and neck.

He just loves to love you!

Picking up that yellow gloved hand, he pushed some hair out of the way that he messed up hugging and kissing you, and he tried his best to fix it.

He's extremely supportive.

------------------------------------------------

Jean

Personally, Jean doesn't care nor pays any sort of attention to what anyone wears.

..Depending.

If Jean doesn't like an outfit someone's wearing, he'll just quietly side eye and sneer in private.

If he saw his lover in an outfit he's not too particularly fond over..

Such as crazed and messed up hair..

Shoes that make you twice his own size, which only worsened his insecurities..

Your rather.. interesting sense of style if you want to put it simply.

He's not too fond of it, and he'll tell you.

"Wh- What is that?! Change, now."

Most likely, it's because it's too flashy, and he wants to be the only person looking at you, not random pedestrians staring as you walk side to side.

It's a jealously thing.

Or if the outfit is particularly revealing? Oh hon, don't even mention the possibility of wearing it in public.

You and your beautiful body are his.

You're his, and he's yours.

You are not to be shared with anyone else who isn't worthy to be kissing and loving up on your body.

Only he is.

"Where do you think you're going wearing that?"

If you don't change your outfit, he'd pin you against a wall.

Oh, he'd shower your neck and stomach all with beautiful kisses and hickeys.

In general, any bare skin with his own love-marking. So that everyone that were to walk by the two of you, know you're his.

"Baby..you're mine. I don't want all these scrubs of "men" staring at what my treasure is~ I don't need anyone stealing it~"

He doesn't mean to hate on your outfit choices, he secretly enjoys them.

He just wants everyone to get a little hint.

And don't you forget it.

-----------------------------------------------------

Shaun

I mean, look at him.

Really?

How do you think he's gonna react.

How do you think he's REALLY gonna react?

He's into alternative styling of course.

Maybe not the same sub-type or category, but he loves it.

When you first went all out for him to go out somewhere special, he was so happy.

"Oh my god. You look amazing! Wow!"

"When did you get into [Insert category of fashion] styles?"

"You look absolutely stunning."

Shaun was somehow even more head over heels for you.

He asked questions, you asked questions back.

It became this new topic that you could both share opinions on.

Shaun asked you to dress him up in your style.

You asked him to dress you up in his style.

You learned more about the history of your guys' fashion styles.

Shaun would bring you out shopping for matching jewelry, piercings, tattoos.. matching everything.

Even if you weren't into stuff like that, he loved you so much.

The two of you explored more common middle grounds off fashion.

He loved finding this new part of you.

The only thing he's really upset about is that he didn't find out sooner!

Christmas and birthday shopping would've been a hell of a lot easier.