ARE YOU TODAYS DATE?

ARE YOU TODAY’S DATE?

BECAUSE YOURE 10/10

we broke up (one shot)

hugh jackman x f!reader

summary: you get dragged to a work event by your boyfriend of three years when Hugh comes to flirt with you. after you reluctantly tell him you’re taken, he backs off for the most part. a few months later, Hugh tells the story during an interview but little does he know you’re single now. 

warnings: implied age gap (not mentioned), flirting while in a relationship (kinda)

authors note: here's a little oneshot I wrote tonight. enjoy <33

You’d been with your boyfriend, Rowan, for a few years now. He earned a degree in marketing and immediately got a job for a studio. While he enjoys his job and it brings in good money, the events he dragged you to were unbelievably boring. The company he worked for always had big parties after a success on a project. At first they were interesting, often running into celebrities here and there given that it was the success of their movie, but lately you found yourself sitting at the bar more often than not. It was routine at this point. Rowan would show you off for the first hour, then he would toss you aside to fend for yourself. You weren’t the biggest social butterfly, hence why you liked to sit alone, drinking. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. You were at another party for the successful marketing for Deadpool and Wolverine. You’d heard a few whispers that the stars of the movie themselves were somewhere wandering around but you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing them. Rowan dumped you at the bar a little over thirty minutes ago and you’ve been sipping on some fruity little drink ever since, completely in your own world. You made small talk with the bartender every once and a while but you were mainly people watching. 

“Mind if I join?” A deep Australian accent asks. You look up and see a gorgeous older man. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a pair of black expensive looking glasses. He was deliciously tall and had a thich salt and pepper beard. “Uh no, go ahead.” He sits in the bar stool next to you. He orders a drink from the bartender before returning his attention back to you. “Pardon me if this is too forward but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The comment takes you aback. “Oh um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” He looks down to your glass that’s nothing but melted ice at this point. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asks. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m taken…sadly.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he heard it or not. “Oh! I apologize for coming on to you. You’ve been sitting here by yourself for so long, I thought you might have come alone.” You huff out a laugh. “My boyfriend works for the company. He’s out there socializing or whatever.” You shrug and signal to the bartender, asking for another drink. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, you’d be on my arm all night.” He smirks. “Is that right?” You smile at him. Before he can answer, you feel your phone vibrate with a text from Rowan that reads ‘where are you babe? Time to leave.’ 

“Well, the boyfriends calling, I gotta go.” You carefully climb out of the chair and grab your jacket and purse off of the back. As you start to walk away, the man speaks again. “Wait! What’s your name?” You turn back to face him. “Y/n.” He smiles and repeats it. “I’m Hugh.” His answer surprises you. “Oh! Congrats on the movie. I didn’t even recognize you at first with the beard and all.” He laughs. “Bye Hugh.” You wave before walking off.

—

It’s been a few months since that night in July, it being September now. You and Rowan had broken up mid-August, both of you agreeing that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. It hurt for a little bit but you knew it was for the best. Living with him had been awkward as you searched for a new place, deciding that he can keep the current apartment. You wanted a fresh start, which is where you are now. Tonight was your first night in your new apartment. You didn’t have any furniture yet but you were happy. You bought an air mattress to make do until you could afford an actual bed. 

It was around midnight and you were doing your nightly youtube watch. You were scrolling through your recommended videos when you saw Hugh’s face pop up. It was an interview posted a few minutes ago from him on some late night show you’d never heard of. You clicked on it, wanting to hear what the man was up to these days. The interview was a standard one, mostly questions on his upcoming movie about some sheep. You weren’t really paying attention, close to dozing off when a question peaked your interest. 

“So Hugh, it’s almost been a year since the announcement of your divorce and the fans wanna know…How’s your dating life doing? Are you seeing anyone?” The woman asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Hugh lets out a big laugh. “I’m actually not seeing anyone. It’s funny you ask because the last time I even attempted to flirt with a woman she turned me down.” The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up in shock. She gasps before asking, “How could anyone turn you down? We need to know the full story here.” 

“Ryan and I were at this party for the marketing team that worked on Deadpool and Wolverine and I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar all alone.” The interviewer is nodding her head, engaging with every word Hugh says. “I eyed her for a while to see if anyone was with her but she sat there alone for a good thirty minutes before Ryan hyped me up to go over there. When I finally did, I ordered a drink and tried to play it cool but I felt the urge to tell this girl how stunning she was, so I did.” You giggle to yourself and you hear him tell the story from his point of view. “She thanked me and I offered to buy her another drink. I kid you not, in the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard she says ‘you probably shouldn’t, i’m taken.’” His hands go up to his chest, gripping right above his heart. “My heart broke mate. I flirted a little more in true Hugh fashion but she had to go. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since.” 

“What a lucky woman, I’m sure she regrets it.” 

“Hey, I tried my best.” He shrugs before looking at the camera. “Y/n, if you ever break up with him. I’m all yours baby.” 

Your jaw drops, the sound of cheers blasting from your phone.  

‘we broke up. I’m all yours. @/RealHughJackman’ 

You hit send on the tweet and hoped it would be enough to bring him back to you.

thank you for reading <3

I need me a cowboy! Bucky. God dammit he's heavenly!! Love this fic so much!

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night for a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections. He was in a good mood, and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

Their group emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and the usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well. . ." A voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light in the gloomy bar. ". . .aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Instead, tense glances were exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except hers.

The typical commotion from the rest of the dive continued sounding around them. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked above the bustle.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She thought that, maybe, she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced, that was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze form the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that ment "Trouble" and her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cozy just moments before, now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favor. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

"Hey, Buck." She turned toward him, speaking slowly with a cheap grin plastered across her face. As if it somehow would make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess." He grinned, hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" And lazily pointed at their gathering.

"Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear, "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear, "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. And she could think of nothing else then to ask nicely. "Please, go."

He smirked, putting his hands on his hips, showing a stern, but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?"

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone. I was just sittin' with my buds over there," he pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed, "and when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humored exterior. Bucky took a moment to look me over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on my short skirt and thin shirt, and if possible, he looked even more bothered.

The man's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, as if marking his territory. "What's with the hat, you some kind of sheriff? Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is, she can make her on decisions." Just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make. She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them. "Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanour. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms popping from strain, knuckles turning white from the fists clenching at his sides. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly." Her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy." He spoke with the authority of a sheriff, but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "Theres no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer." The guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, and pointed to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from him, both extending curt nods to oneanother.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward, standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'. . ." She whispered, smirking while slowly sliding off his lap. Her friend–despite the commotion they found themselves in–covered her mouth in a snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted." Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls." The guy easily dismissed them.

How very. . . demeaning. She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows and jerked her head to the side in a "you had it coming" motion, then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole." She sighed, and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and he set his blues deep into her home. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine. . ." She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, I'll catch you." He warned, and she rolled her eyes, despite the burning that settled in her core. She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go.

"What? You wanna hear a "yes sir"?" She dared the words, nervousity building in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." His hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her. . . pulse.

Bucky whistled–and his friend, the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, he along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends who were only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it." Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling.

Voices raised behind them, and as they were about to exit, she turned around just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, aending him sprawling.

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, pr she didn't want to admit it, more likely. Simply giving her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

She understood that too.

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form a bloody hand. Before even saying a thing, he had already removed his jacket and wrapped ut around her shoulders. "Only got one, apologies ma'am." He told her friend, and the girls shared a knowing look, their thoughts fiendish. "Let's go."

The ride was relatively quiet, we knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "Let me know how that goes," she whispered. "Good luck." And raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

She had to restratin herself from smiling too coyly. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

Since her friend had stepped off, the tension grew ever thicker. Now that there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths for calming themselves. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

"I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore," and crossed her arms with resolution, her eyes narrowed and staring at him.

" 'Course not, I can tell by how you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from the thick jacket over her torso.

She oulled it closer around herself. "What, what exactly do you mean I look like? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment, she felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She could feel the comment drivning Bucky into overload.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

"So what, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Yeah."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

Oh how I've missed these two!! I didn't even realize this was out until like 15 minutes ago. So happy I decided to check tumblr!

Before I Knew You - Part Twelve

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, age gap, oral sex (male recieving), angst, allusions to knotting, secrets. Minors DNI.

A/N: Thank you Anon for the inspiration 💕

It was warm, sweat dampening your skin. Something heavy on your chest. Wind on your ear. Your eyes opened with effort. 

Bill remained sleeping peacefully. An ache in your pelvis bloomed as you squirmed out from under him. With effort you stood. The amount of spend that rushed down your thighs was staggering. Despite the soreness there didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong. You ran a diagnostic to be sure. Everything was as it should be. Better for Bill.

Still, your trip to the bathroom was an extended one. You had to sit under the stream of water instead of standing in the shower. When you wobbled back to the room, you were careful to avoid the puddle you’d left on the floor. It was still early. Or late? The sun wasn’t up.

“Bill?”

He groaned as you shook his shoulder. Mumbled something you didn’t understand. It took several more shakes for him to open his eyes. More words you didn’t understand. They didn’t even sound like English. You gave up, laid a kiss on his forehead, and covered him in a new blanket. As you dressed, you saw the evidence of his affections. Bruises on your hips. Hickies and bite marks along your neck and chest. You’d have to sacrifice a bit of Dittany to heal them. 

With Bill deep in sleep, you didn’t feel the need to be quiet. You set the kettle on the stove and opened your notebook to a fresh page.

—

Your third cup had grown cold as you went over the notes again and again. There was too much missing. Too little information about werewolves and nothing about whatever in between Bill was. The little you’d documented was nowhere near enough to understand what had happened. You needed more. 

—

The sun rose higher over the hill, lighting the homes dotting the countryside. Dew wet the hem of your pants as you strided across the lawn. It was early, only a few minutes after sunrise, but you knew they’d be awake. Your knock was too loud for the quiet morning.

Tonks opened the door confused. “Is Bill okay?”

“As fine as he can be with everyone keeping secrets.”

Her face pinched. She checked over your shoulder before moving aside and ushering you in. “Tea or firewhiskey?”

With a grimace as you sat at her small, round table, you answered, “Firewhiskey.” It’s like deja vu as she filled a glass with too much alcohol and set it in front of you. The burn it left was equally as familiar.

She sat across from you, nails clanking against her own glass. “I told Remus it was a bad idea to not tell you everything.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t understand what it’s like to be on this side of things, seeing someone you love go through that sort of thing it’s damn near debilitating, ain’t it?” She downed the glass. “He forgets the bond works both ways.”

“Bond?”

She poured more Firewhiskey into both glasses. “The mating bond.”

—

Bill was still asleep when you returned. You cleaned the remnants of the night before, put a pot of stew to simmer on the stove, returned to the bed, and stared at him. Sweat drenched hair clung to his forehead. Mouth parted with the tiniest trail of drool. An occasional snore that blew across your face. The raised edges of scarred skin contrasted by the smooth expanse between them. He was ethereal. Branded by some demonic force, but still divine. 

And yours. And you his. 

Mated. Bonded. Irrevocably intertwined. Tonks’ revelation left you somewhere between relief and despair. There was no choice in this, not for either of you. Magic had decided and weaved a connection so thoroughly through your beings that there was no hope of any sense of peace or happiness without the other. 

“It doesn’t make it any less real,” Tonks had said quietly in the doorway before you left. Remus had gotten in a few minutes before, somehow convinced you’d only come by to give him a bottle of Murtlap Essence. As angry as you were with him, you couldn’t add that burden when he could barely stand. “What we feel for them, it’s not any less real.”

Your fingers brushed across his forehead, pushing back the hair. All the feelings and desires you had for him, the ones you’d felt so much guilt for, he had them too. You’d known that before. Even if you’d tried to explain it away, deep down you’d known. Maybe you’d been trying to protect yourself. Maybe you’d been trying to protect him. It didn’t matter. All that repression and denial had been pointless. Had hurt more than helped him. 

That’s why last night happened. She’d called it a knot. Her information was limited, only her own experience and what little Remus had been able to learn from his time amongst different communities. And even that was dubious as the reasoning varied amongst groups. Some thought it was for mating, to try to increase the extremely low birth rate, while others thought it was meant to strengthen the bond between mates, and still others thought it was meant to be some form of rejeunitve ritual to contrast the extreme tolls of the transformation. Tonks' best guess was that it was somewhere in between all three. 

They tended to deal with it in the days before and after the full moon. “It’s usually quite pleasant,” she’d said. “We just lay together for a few minutes until the swelling goes down. That first full moon though,” her whole body shivered, “it was like it’d built up when we were dancing around the bush. I was sore for a good two weeks. But Remus looked better than he had in months.”

You could have helped him sooner. Forgone all the angst and pain. If only you’d known before it had gotten complicated. 

“Does anyone else know about the mate stuff?”

Sadness had etched into her brow. “Not anyone still alive.”

It’s when the sun is at its highest in the sky that he finally wakes. You were in the garden when he joined you, fresh from the shower, clad on in boxers, and holding a bowl of stew. “I’d say morning,” you teased, “but that was a couple hours ago.”

He gave a dopey, lopsided grin. Beautiful. He was so beautiful.

You stood, dusting off the dirt, and went to his side. The heat from his body seeped through the fabric of your shirt. With a tilt of your head, you pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

He sniffed. "Tonks came by?"

"No, I, uh, went to see her," you said, heading inside.

"Alone?" His hand grabbed yours, and he spun you toward him.

"In hindsight, stupid, I know, but," you shrugged, "I was worried about you. About what had happened last night."

"You should've woken me."

"I tried." You laid your free hand on his chest. "I won't do it again."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, love." He pulled you against him, his arms tight around you. His cheek rested against the top of your head. His breath blew over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “What’d she say?”

You shrugged again. “It was just some leftover physiological stuff from wolves. Might happen again tonight and will every full moon, but it’ll be less intense. Nothing to worry about.”

—

Two full moons passed. The cottage had become more active. Order members were frequent visitors now. Between physicals, injuries, and the brief run of a rather vicious flu, you were kept fairly busy as a Healer. And when you weren’t, the various members had worked with you on improving your defensive spells. You weren’t great, but you had gotten better. To the point you no longer stayed at the cottage at all times. You were at Order meetings now and had been waiting at their rendezvous point during their important missions. 

One of those missions had been raiding an apothecary hidden amongst the hills beyond a muggle village. Stealing wasn’t something the Order typically approved of, but as the owner had taken out several ads in the Daily Prophet boasting they were working on a potion that would detect Muggleborns, an exception had been made. Its success left you with a diverse collection of ingredients and mediocrely brewed potions. Including an extensive stash of Occamy eggs.

Your first attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion hadn’t been successful, but you had high hopes for the second.

“…four, five, six,” George counted his stirs and stepped aside for you to wave your wand over the cauldron again. You waited. His nails tapped against the counter. Nothing. You covered his hand to stop them. Your shoulders slumped. Another failure. You turned away from the offending cauldron and began to clean up the prep. “It’s a difficult potion,” George said, grabbing the chopping boards and utensils to walk over to the sink. “We’ll get it next time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed halfheartedly over the sound of the running water, “next time.”

George was one of your more constant companions. Fred had been too, early on. He hadn’t been by in over a month. “Tomorrow?”

The cabinet shut with a loud slam that made you cringe. “Can’t.” Without a word, he handed you a clean, damp rag before returning to scrubbing a knife. “Remus wants everyone to start carrying some chocolate at all times, but we don’t really trust the wizard stuff anymore. He dropped off a satchel of some muggle ones I’ve got to melt down and add some Anti-Melting Potion to. Think I might try infusing some with dittany, see how it works out.”

“Think we could try some with Wit-Sharpening Potion? Those things always made me feel foggy.”

Your hand stopped mid swipe. “That’s bloody brilliant, George.”

He laughed. “No need to sound so surprised. Got a whole line of potion infused sweets, you know?”

“Oh I remember,” you said, a smile crawling up your cheeks. “Bane of my existence during exam week.”

George was great at distractions. He kept the conversation going, talking about the different techniques they had started making their own. He talked and talked without mentioning the still full cauldron as he helped prepare dinner. He had you laughing at some story of the time they’d slipped a Fire-Breath Butterscotch into their mum’s candy bowl and Arthur nearly burnt down the Burrow. “Hell of a Howler Mum sent. Would’ve made a great ad if we could’ve saved it.” We. Always we. Never him and—

“How is Fred?” you asked, pushing onion around the pan.

“Better. Not coming around to it yet, but,” he shrugged, “not as angry.”

The oil sizzles and bubbles as the chicken hits it, bouncing up to try to burn you for the disruption. “He doesn’t have any right to be angry. It's not like we knew.”

“Maybe not, but he still is. Keeps saying Bill planned this all out to get you to himself. And yes it’s ridiculous,” he said before you could, “and I’m sure he knows it’s ridiculous, but he’s hurt. Wants to believe if things had worked out differently, if he’d been here more or if you’d been with us instead, it’d be him.”

“It doesn’t matter how differently things could have gone, it’d still be Bill.”

“Maybe. It’s the what ifs that make it hard for him.”

There were no what ifs. It was always, would always, be Bill. But you couldn’t tell him that. “I just wish he’d be happy for his brother. After he’s gone through, he deserves some happiness.”

George’s hand rested on your shoulder and pressed an affectionate kiss to your hair. “And so do you. Don’t let Fred’s jealousy ruin it. He’ll come around eventually. Might take a close call or two, but eventually.”

—

Bill sniffed your hair and made a face. “George is lucky he’s my second favorite brother.”

“Mine too.”

“As long as I’m first.”

“First? Why on earth would you be first? No, no, it’s Charlie, obviously, then George, then Percy when he gets his head out of his ass, then Ron, that ghoul pretending to be Ron right now, and lastly Fred if he ever gets his head out of his ass.”

“I don’t even make the list?”

You grinned up at him. “Of my favorite brother-in-laws? What, you think me and Ginny are a better fit?”

He growled, though it was more a laugh. “You love riling me up, don’t you?”

“I would never do such a thing.” 

—

“Higher,” Remus said, nudging your arm. “Keep your feet firm. It’s got a kick.” That you didn’t need to be told. You’d already been knocked on your ass twice. “When you’re ready.” One breath. Two. The spell shot out, turquoise light hitting the dummy square in the chest. It flew back, arms flailing, and crashed against the cliff face a hundred yards away. The impact made it shatter. “That was fantastic!” 

You didn’t share his smile. It was only meant to knock them back and incapacitate a target. Not decimate it. “That would’ve killed a person.”

“Yes,” he agreed, more solemn. “A person who would have no qualms over killing you. Or anyone else. Sometimes we’ll have to make difficult decisions to protect the people we love.”

The wand in your hand seemed heavy. Magic had the ability to do so much good. And the ability to do so much evil. “I think that’s enough for today.” He let you retreat into the cottage without a fight. Where George would have spoken, Remus was silent. He let you wade in your own thoughts undisturbed.

—

24 December 1989

“I don’t understand,” your mother said, staring at the wall of potions. “Can they cure colds or heal wounds or regrow bones?”

You nodded eagerly, gripping her hand. You knew she’d be impressed. “All of the above! And more! I can even learn to make them! There’s also healing spells I’ll get to do when I’m older. Incredible, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Incredible.”

You sat on the stairs, head against the wall listening to them talk. Mum had been sad after you’d gotten back. You knew it because she’d gotten out her crossstitch she hadn’t touched in a year. You’d thought it was because Dad had been working and couldn’t see. But when you told her you could bring dad another day she’d said no. They’d sent you off to bed early too, claiming an early day.

“...all these medicines and treatments when just a couple drops of these potions could cure it all. They can regrow bones, Alan. And that’s just the beginning of it. And they keep it to themselves. These potions could be saving countless lives and they’re keeping it to themselves.”

3 March 1990

“The separation of our worlds keeps more Muggles safe. While we might be able to save some, if they were to be more exposed to the things of our world—like Dragon Pox or misfired spells—far more would die. Their bodies aren’t built for magical intervention. We save more by staying away.”

1 July 1990

Your parents smiled warmly, waving their arms from their spot outside one of the gift shops. You pulled your trunk along and tried to match their smiles. So much had changed since Christmas. They’d never step on Platform 9 ¾ again. It was for the best, Dumbledore had assured. It was better for them to forget about magic and the medical miracles it could perform. They’d be safer and happier that way.

Your parents wrapped you in a tight hug. “Your marks were fantastic,” your father said. “We’re so proud of you, Bug.”

— 

“They don’t remember that you’re a witch?”

Bill had found you on the floor of the room you shared, the photos Corbin had taken of your parents spread across it. You didn’t have any other photos of them. “Mum had a kid die on her after a bad car accident. She knew magic would’ve saved him. So she started reaching out to Dumbledore, refusing to believe there was no good reason to keep magic out of Muggle medicine. Not if it could save people.” Her head was thrown back in a laugh at something your father said in one of the photos. “She became a risk to the Statue of Secrecy. Dumbldore acted before the Ministry could find out. And my dad couldn’t know if mum didn’t. Too risky.”

“Where did they think you were every year?”

“Some prestigious school over in Finland. They think I’m over there now, working on a degree.”

“But they got you the farm.”

“Thought it was better than dumping money into an account in my name. An abandoned farm didn’t need upkeep.” Your fingers brushed over one of the photos of them having dinner at a restaurant they loved. When you were younger, before McGonnagal had come along, you’d go as a family every Thursday. “Sometimes I think Dumbledore’s charm worked too well. Like they forget I exist when I’m not around. I’m not sure they’ll notice if I never see them again.”

“Of course they’d notice.”

You didn’t argue. They were happier living in ignorant bliss. Just like he was. “You’re right,” you said, wiping your eyes and gathering the photos. His hands joined yours in collecting them. You smiled along as he said how much you looked like your father.

—

Blue smoke billowed out the cauldron. You blinked. Blue smoke. Blue smoke. Blue smoke!

George’s excited yelps sounded far away, even as he picked you up and spun you around. “We did it! We fucking did it!” 

—

Bill’s focus on the paper strayed as you sank to your knees in front of the couch. “What are you doing, love?”

Your fingers teased up the side of his legs. "Nothing." Your eyes locked onto his and you smiled innocently. You held them until they fluttered shut as one of your hands grazed his clothed cock that twitched from the attention. He was already hard. Fingers trailed light paths up and down his cock, his hips jerking upwards, but he didn’t say a word. The paper crumpled slightly, his knuckles going white.

"Something wrong, Bill?"

His head dropped back and the paper fell forgotten to the floor. "You're a brat, you know that?"

"Oh?" Your hand cupped his cock, rubbing the palm against it. He let out a groan.

"You want me to fuck you, is that it?"

"No," you said, "not yet." With practiced ease, your fingers undid his pants. His hips lifted so you could pull them and his boxers down to his knees. You licked your lips at the sight. "Right now I want to hear what pretty noises you can make for me." Before he could reply, your mouth wrapped around his cock. Bill cried out, hips jerking. You relaxed your jaw and added your hand to his base to help with the size.

"Fuck," he breathed, "fuck, fuck."

You sucked and bobbed. Your free hand slid along his thighs, dipping to brush against his sack every so often. He moaned and groaned. His hands clutched to the couch so tightly you were surprised it didn't rip.

"Love, I'm close," he gasped, his hips lifting. You maintained the rhythm you’d built, only deviating by using your hand to cup his balls. His cock twitched in your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat. His back arched as he spilled. You swallowed all of him, the salty taste familiar. You let him slip out after one last swipe of your tongue made him shiver and rested your head against his thigh, listening to him catch his breath.

"I don't know if I should be offended," you mused. "I don't think fucking me has ever made you cum that fast."

He let out a breathy laugh. "Only cause I have amazing restraint, love." His hand lifted your chin and he leaned forward. "Your mouth is wonderful," he said between slow kisses, "but your cunt is damn near enchanted." His wandering hands made his intentions clear. 

But the tell-tell pop of Apparition had him groaning, already working on tucking himself away. Considering the amount of time you’d almost been walked in on, this wasn’t nearly as bad. At least he got to finish.  Lee's voice traveled through the cracked window, "Do you need a minute to make yourselves presentable?"

"Oh they better not." George's disgusted voice rose to add, "You knew we were coming over!"

Bill's eyebrow rose and you grinned back innocently. “It’s a good thing you were quick.” A quick peck against his incoherently mumbling lips and then you stood, heading towards the bathroom. "It's safe!"

—

Bill was out of bed before you even sat up, wand in hand. “Stay here,” he whispered as an unfamiliar voice called out his name over the knocking. You followed. The sun hadn’t risen yet and that cottage was still dark. You stayed behind the couch as he approached the door. Wand pointed, he opened it.

Ron stood there. He looked thinner than the last time you’d seen him. His hair longer, a patchy beard on his face. Leaves and twigs clung to his clothes, there were scratches across his face, and mud caked on his shoes and the hem of his pants. 

Bill hadn’t lowered his wand. “What did Percy find in his stocking Christmas of ‘89?”

“Gnome dung,” he said, voice hoarse. “But Pettigrew would know that too. You should ask something more recent.”

Bill ignored the suggestion. He pitched forward to embrace his youngest brother, nearly sending the two of them tumbling in the sand. “And Harry? Hermione?”

“Alive, but,” his voice cracked and he clung to his brother, “I left ‘em. I left and I can’t go back.”

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @kyla-hale-blog @voiddylanobrosey @pearlsofme @minstens @sofriane @sheeple @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle @jessyballet

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @pancakefancake

Hey yall, I need some help. So hopefully in about 2 years I'll be able to get a puppy. My dad (who I still live with, sad I know) wants to wait because right now we're not ready for another dog. (We currently have a dog, the cat further down in my blog is my mom's cat, if it's still there) he also won't let me if our current dog isn't doing good at that time. But anyways I'm thinking about getting a chocolate lab puppy. I know for sure I'm getting a lab but I want to get a chocolate one. I've picked out some names already because I like doing that. I want some help thinking of more names. I tagged a bunch of Fandoms so hopefully I can get some nerdy names but I also want hilarious names!

Our current list: favorites of each category are in purple, eliminated are crossed

The "love" ones: Bucky (Marvel), Boone (Twisters), Coffee Beans or Beans (nickname(nn)), Butter, Captain Wigglebutt or Wiggles (nn), Meatball, Moose, Godzilla, Bandit, Bruno, Guinness, Diesel, Sparrow, Milo, Baloo (Jungle Book), Perceus or Percy/Perc (Percy Jackson), Winston (after a horse i used to ride), Balto (Balto), Bowser (Mario)

The "really liked" ones: Rocket (Marvel), Rooster (Top Gun), Jensen (the Actor), Potato, Brownie, Caesar, Scooter, Reuben or Roo, Cappuccino or Cap, Angus or Gus (Disney's Brave), Dakota or Kota, Hawk, Drogo (GOT)

The "liked" ones: Bruce (Harley Quinn), Tyler (Twisters), Raleigh (Pacific rim), Walter or Wally, Mudflap, Otis (Chicago Fire), Simon or Si (cod ig), Tango, Halo, Wedge, Equinox or Quin/Nox, Pluto (the planet)

The "not my favorite but they're good names" ones: Maverick (Top Gun), Logan (Xmen)

So please, message me, reblog this, comment what ever, tell me some good names whether they be Fandom related, just down right funny, or both. One thing, try to keep a little bit to the theme of him being a chocolate lab and a male. Like coffee beans because they're brown and I think Beans would be a hilarious names. If the name has a nickname please tell me that too. Thank you everyone!!!

So um apparently I've been living under a rock for the past couple weeks. One I didn't know the music video for temporary was out and two EMINEM IS GONNA BE A FREAKING GRANDPA. The music video made me cry, especially when em started crying, the card was everything. I loved the videos oh my goodness the girls were so cute when they were younger. And yall I cant describe to you how much this has affected me. This man means the world to me. He's been sober for almost as long as I've known and been listening to him. His music makes me super happy and sappy. Y'know he's older than my dad by like 1 or 2 years but he's still fine as wine. I know I know crazy eminem fan alert but how can I not. But back to the other stuff, I've been listening to eminem honestly since I had been born, my mom loved him and my sister loved him. I've loved him practically ever since honestly. But I only ever started appreciating him until this last year or so. I mean there's times we're I'm not in the mood and I've got a certain music taste I want to listen to. I've got a lot of styles all right? But I'll always come back to marshall. Because he's the one thing that's never let me down. And I'm so happy to see him having the best life he can because he's long past over due for a happy life. He deserves it so much. Now all there's left for me to do is to see him live in concert and then honestly I can die happy. But in truth I'll probably never live to see that dream come true. All that matters is that Em is happy and living the life he deserves especially as a new grandpa.