I love how his head swings around to follow her gaze and then sweeps back

Simple Salt and Burn

Summary:  The reader and her hunting friends run into another group of hunters while on a seemingly simple salt and burn.

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Castiel, Benny, OFC: Lee, Manda, Arryn

Pairing: Dean x Reader and a bunch of others

Word Count: 2300+

Warnings: swearing, sass, crack

A/N:  I’ve been on Tumblr for about six months and in that time I’ve been lucky enough to meet some very lovely people.  A few of them have become close friends and this fic is for three of them @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda @arryn-nyxx

Ladies it has been four months since we started our little chats and at this point I can’t picture my life without you!  This idea has been in my brain for a while and, thanks to my abundant excitement for Wayward Sisters, I finally got it out!  Yay!

This is unbeta’d so please be gentle.

 

 

“Y/N are you pouting? Lee flicks her eyes to the rear view mirror, waiting for Y/N to look up.

“No,” Y/N grumbles.

“She’s pissed she lost again,” Manda laughs, next to Lee.

“It’s stupid, anyway.  How does paper beat rock?”

“You’ll win eventually,” Arryn pats Y/N’s arm.

“How ‘bout I let you pick the music?” Lee offers.

Y/N perks up.  “Really?”

“Sure.”  Lee lifts her shoulders keeping her hands on the wheel, just as Manda and Arryn yell, “No!”

“Rick Astley!”  Y/N grabs at the auxiliary cord.

“I take it back!” Lee says.

 “Too late, bitches!”  Y/N laughs as she scrolls through her phone.

This is why “Never Gonna Give You Up” is blasting when the four women pull up to the abandoned house.

“You couldn’t have been in a Breaking Benjamin mood?” Lee grumbles as they climb out of the Jeep.

Y/N laughs then turns to Arryn and asks, “So what’s the deal with this place again?”

“Standard haunting,” Arryn says.  “Mostly people running away, scared out of their minds, but some have gone missing.  Simple salt and burn and then beer.”

They chuckle as Manda opens the back of the Jeep.  Rifling through until she finds her pistol, putting it in the waist of her jeans before grabbling another.  She passes it to Arryn while Y/N grabs a shot gun.

“That’s so impractical, Y/N,” Manda says.  “You have to reload all the time.”

“Lucky for me I’m fast.”  Y/N grins, adding rounds to her hip pack, “Besides, bigger salt dispersal diameter,” she says, dropping it against her shoulder.

“You just need to be a better shot, Y/N,” Arryn teases.

Manda shakes her head as she hands Lee a crowbar.  “And you could use a gun sometime, you know?”

“What does she need a gun for?” Arryn chimes in.

“Yeah, her entire body is a weapon,” Y/N adds, laughing.

“Alright, let’s go.”  Lee starts off and the other three trail after her.

Every footfall elicits a crack or a creak from the dilapidated porch as they make their way to the front door.  Lee kicks it in and the four women file inside.

“Teams of two.  Y/N you’re with me, c’mon.” Lee starts up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“You don’t have to run everywhere,” Y/N calls after her.

“Start on the main floor?” Manda asks.

“Lead the way.”  Arryn cuts the air with her flattened hand.

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2

For anon…reader is a Jedi as requested, enjoy!

Obi Wan turned toward the entrance of his ship to greet Y/N. He gave her a soft smile. It didn’t take much to realize something was amiss. Her usual bright attitude wasn’t present. It didn’t even seem as though her own thoughts were in the present.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted cheerily.
She blinked a few times before answering. “Hello Obi Wan.”
“I have to say, it’s good to have you on board,” he complimented while setting up the launch sequence, “Anakin and I could use the backup for this mission.”

Without much change in her expression, Y/N took a seat behind the first mate’s chair. Anakin walked into the cockpit a moment later. His cheeks were slightly tinted as he noticed Y/N.

“Hey Y/N.”
She raised her gaze slightly. “Hey Anakin.”

Anakin knit his brows as he took his seat. He didn’t have much time to ask questions since Obi Wan had him help finish the lift off sequence. His mind was quickly preoccupied by what was bugging Y/N.

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In Every Universe: The Burrow Brew

Muggle AU, Coffee shop AU, Modern AU, Prompt: “You do this sort of thing often?” and “Panicked/Accidental Confession”

Ship(s): Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione

Genre: Romance/Comedy

Rating: PG-13

A/N: Guys. GUYS. I started writing this March of 2015. Thanks to the prompts I recently received, I got back into it and finished just in time for Ginny’s birthday! I’ve already done a bakery AU, so it seems I didn’t stretch my imagination too far with this one. I hope you all enjoy it!

On FFN.

~.*.~

“One chocolate éclair and… no coffee?”

Harry looked up from his wallet, startled by the unexpectedly soft voice coming from the register. He met the warmest pair of brown eyes and stared into them, oddly transfixed.

“Er,” was his eloquent reply.

“A small is just a pound when you buy a pastry,” she informed him, throwing him an unusually bright smile for so early in the morning.

Harry didn’t drink coffee, but this girl before him was a ray of sunshine, and didn’t people drink coffee with sunshine?

“Okay,” he said.

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280 Days

Finally finally the fic you all requested…Pregnant!Emma galore. It’s a long one folks. I hope you enjoy it!! 

@justcheckingstuffcs @dark-ones-dont-need-sleep @losttalongthewayy @leatherjacketsandrum @mrandmrsswan @naiariddle @raggedyclaraa @mayquita @thegladelf @flslp87 @onceuponiwishmytime @galadriel26 @captainswanslay @captainswan710 @allofthismatters @mxltifandoms @caaptain-swan @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @justcheckingstuffcs @blowmiakisscolin 

Don’t forget, if I missed you in the tags, just shoot me a message and I’ll tag you from now on. And if you just got here, this piece is a companion piece to this, but you could still enjoy it if you haven’t read anything from the Nth Time Series.(But if you want to read all the parts, just go to my blog and check the cs ff tag.)

Enjoy this big fat heaping dose of CS family fluff!

~ Jenn 

*************************************************

~ Day 78

She hates it. She forgot how much actually being pregnant sucks. 280 days of pure, undiluted torture. She’s queasy in the mornings and sweaty at night and she’s only known she’s pregnant for two weeks but god, it already feels like it’s been an eternity. Today is especially bad because this morning she woke up and she wanted eggs and Killian, of course, because this is Killian, made her eggs but then the smell made her sick, which made him feel bad which made her feel bad which made her cry which made him feel even worse which made her feel even worse. And her belly is already so round and in charge, and god, she’s 11 weeks pregnant and how dare her stupid perfect husband pump her full of so many babies?!

~ Day 83

They find an obstetrician that specializes in multiples at a Children’s hospital in Boston. The drive there is a little too far for Killian’s liking (45 minutes, 40 if you speed) but Emma assures him that it’s worth it and that she’d rather make the drive than trust Frankenstein to deliver their twins. Their first visit there is a Tuesday, and they’re delightfully surprised when the friendly obstetrician offers to get out her ultrasound machine. It’s the first time Killian’s seen the babies and he’s transfixed on the screen, watching those little blobs dance with the happiest of expressions. He cries when he hears their heartbeats for the first time, and before they leave, Dr. Cameron whispers to Emma about how lucky she is to have such a supportive partner. “Oh believe me,” she agrees, offering a smile, “there’s no way I could do this with anyone but him.“

~ Day 90

Today is lovely in every sense of the word. It’s a lazy day, that Saturday, a perfect day off. Emma sleeps in and misses the morning sail, waking only to the patter of little 3-year old feet and the feeling of sea salt dusted lips against her hairline. She opens her eyes just as Leia clambers up on the bed, intent on telling the babies about her morning even though they can’t hear her really, not yet. “The wind was perfect, little loves,” the three year-old explains, and Emma watches Killian quietly sigh on account of Leia’s now-perfect “L” sounds. His only consolation is that his heart is warmed by the fact that she’s mastered the sound by using her own special nickname on her brothers ("or sisters, Killian.” “No, Swan.”).

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Decisions, Part 5 - Epilogue

It’s finally here! I’m so glad to be able to post this. I hope you all enjoy it. I really wanted to give this fic and these characters (at least as they exist in this version of things) a happy ending. This is set 3 years after the last installment. 

Thank you for all the encouragement you’ve all given as I’ve posted these stories!! 

Three years later…

The royal ballroom is once again filled with nobility and sweeping orchestral music plays as couples float together on the dance floor. Once again, Drake stands by the bar sipping a whiskey. Once again Liam is the center of attention. So many things are the same, but really everything is different.

Liam steps up on the dais. He’s absolutely radiating joy and his voice is happy and excited as he addresses the crowd.

“Welcome ladies and gentleman! I am so pleased to be here today with all of you celebrating not only the 3rd anniversary of my coronation, but also the official announcement of my engagement!”

The crowd erupts in thunderous applause and Drake smiles. They’ve come so far.

Flashback

It had taken six months of searching but with Liam’s help, they had finally found Savannah. In one of life’s strange, unexplainable twists, it ends up she’s been in New York the whole time and not even that far from Louisa’s own neighborhood.

Louisa stands beside Drake hand in hand outside Savannah’s door. His sister knows they’re coming. Drake has been texting her for a couple weeks, but he’s clearly still nervous, fidgeting with his shirt collar and shifting from foot to foot. Louisa squeezes his hand and gives him an encouraging smile. Drake takes a deep breath and knocks on the heavy wooden door. A moment later it swings open.

“Savannah!” Drake cries and all hesitation is gone as he pulls his sister into a tight hug. Savannah clings to him and starts crying. Louisa watches the two of them, tears welling up in her own eyes at their emotional reunion.

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End Up Here

Just some more Bughead fluff to tide us over during this too long hiatus!


Betty’s eyes glistened with pride as she watched her fiance hang the framed cover of his first novel, about Jason Blossom’s murder, above the desk in his new office. It hadn’t been an easy road, to say the least. There had been so many ups and downs that sometimes Betty felt dizzy, like this was the worst roller coaster and she would never get off. But then there he was, all blue and brooding, his steady eyes and gentle hands, letting slip a new smile every day just for her. It made her feel a whole new kind of dizzy, a sickeningly wonderful spinning of the ground beneath her feet that she never wanted to end. 

And now they were here. Their first house was modest but perfect, paid for by the astounding sales of Jughead’s novel - not that she was surprised, she always knew how brilliant he was. Jughead insisted their whole house be painted a bright, sunny yellow, gazing at her with such love when they stood in the middle of their furniture-bare living room for the first time, her arms wound tightly around his neck after he’d swept her up to carry her across the threshold for the first time. She’d giggled and lent forward to rest her forehead against his, quipping about his questionable expertise in interior design. 

“You know, Jug, you’re supposed to carry a bride across the threshold. This is a little ridiculous,” she laughed, yet not making a move to be let down from his arms. Jughead laughed, his chest exploding with how happy he was right here, in this moment. He never thought he would make it here. 

“Well then, Miss Cooper,” he began, reluctantly setting her down on the ground. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” He knelt down in front of her, hands shaking as he reached into his pocket to pull out the little velvet box. Betty gasped, hands coming to cover her mouth as her eyes filled with the prettiest tears Jughead swore he’d ever seen. “Betty, I never thought I was capable of feeling the way I feel about you. Every day you make me better, whole, in a way I didn’t know possible. I can’t breathe when I wake up with you in my arms because I’m scared that one shift will blow you away from me forever. I never want to let you go. I love you, Betty Cooper. Will you marry me?” He lifted the lid to reveal the blue sapphire set in a gold band, surrounded by tiny sparkling diamonds. 

“Juggie, it’s perfect,” she gasped, her voice catching around her tears. She didn’t just mean the ring. She meant him, their lives, their love. Him, kneeling before her in a completely empty room, nothing but him and her, expressing just how much they meant to each other. “Yes!” she exclaimed, realising in her awe that she still hadn’t replied. “Yes, of course!” A laugh bubbled up in her chest as he slipped the ring on her outstretched finger, moving to sweep her up and swing her round, burying his own damp eyes in the soft, warm crook of her neck. They’d made love that night, slowly and passionately, on the mattress that was on the floor in their new room, not wanting an inch to come between them.

She watched him now as he took a step back from the wall, checking to see if the frame was straight. He turned to where she was leaning against the door frame. “Good?” he asked.

“Perfect,” she replied, butterflies swirling in her stomach at his responding smile. 

The butterflies increased suddenly, filtering upwards slowly until Betty realised they weren’t butterflies anymore. “I’ll be right back,” she shot out suddenly, a crease between her brows as she turned and flew to the bathroom. 

“Betts?” Jughead called after her in worry, following a few paces behind. By the time he reached her she was heaving her late morning breakfast into the toilet, clammy fingers clutching at the cool porcelain. He held back her hair and rubbed soothing circles across her back until she leaned back sometime later, a light sheen across her face. “Betts, what’s wrong?” 

“I-I’m not sure, maybe it was something I ate? I feel better now, actually,” she murmured, her eyes still slanted in thought as she moved to stand. He was there instantly, putting a hand under her arms and guiding her to their bed, now with frame. 

“Still, I don’t want you getting any worse. Here,” he lifted the covers and gently pushed on her shoulders until she was lying back. He moved around, fetching her some water, placing a trash can by the side of the bed. He hovered, wondering if there was anything he’d missed. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you,” she mumbled sleepily, reaching for him with heavy arms. “Stay with me?” she asked. 

“Always,” he replied with a soft smile, slipping in besides her and pulling her gently against his chest, falling into a comfortable slumber.

Betty awoke feeling as bright and cheery as she had that morning. She looked down to see Jughead’s face squished adorably against the pillows, mouth slightly open and a possessive hand resting low on her hip. She bit her lip, brushing the soft curls back from his forehead. Him sleeping gave her a chance. 

The thought popped into her head immediately, as soon as she could get her breath back after throwing up this morning. She counted back, trying to work out the dates in her head. Was it? Could it actually be? 

She was back from the store on the corner before Jughead had even stirred. She paced back and forth in their bathroom, palms sweating for an entirely different reason as she looked at the white stick lying on top of the counter. Was it too soon? How would he react, would he be happy? Or, God forbid, angry? No, Jughead wasn’t like that, he was kind. Wonderful. 

As she waited for the timer to be up she let her mind wander. A little boy with Jughead’s dark curls and her green eyes. Or maybe a little girl, all dimples with a passion for stories. Either way, she couldn’t forget the image of Jughead cooing to a tiny version of himself, rocking the tiny bundle back and forth in their nursery. The image made her want to burst into tears all over again. He’d be a great dad. 

The chime rang out from her phone, steeling herself with a deep breath as she picked up the stick. 

It was her turn to kneel down before him, as she made her face level with his at the edge of the bed. “Juggie? Juggie, wake up,” she whispered, raising her voice slightly when he stirred. 

“What is it, Betts? Are you alright, is everything-” she cut him off before the panic could rise in his eyes. 

“Everything is fine, Jug. At least, I hope it is. I just need to tell you something.” He stared back at her in anxious anticipation, reaching for her hand. She raised the stick, plus sign facing towards him. “I’m pregnant, Jug. We’re going to have a baby.” She held her breath as his face remained still. “Jug?”

“Pregnant?” he asked, his voice slightly choked. Her eyes welled up.

“You’re not mad are you?” she got out, lower lip quivering. “I know it’s soon and we hadn’t even talked about having children but, I don’t know, now it’s actually happening I just-” Her sentence was cut short by his lips descending on hers, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck to pull her against him more forcefully. She raised her hands to cup his cheeks, letting out a small sob against his lips as she felt a desperation behind his kiss she didn’t even know he was capable of. When he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers his eyes were shut and there were wet trails left down his cheeks. She dried them with her thumbs as she couldn’t stop the smile that began tilting up the corners of her mouth. 

“A baby. We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered, finally opening his eyes to look at her. She nodded, biting back a hysterical giggle. “A baby!” He exclaimed, his beautiful smile lighting up his whole person as he sprung up from his place on the bed, wrapping Betty up in a tight hold and swinging her around. “I love you so much, Betty,” he cried into her neck as she laughed freely now, with careless abandon. Suddenly, he stopped, dropping her and pulling back with worry clouding his face. “Wait, I shouldn’t do that. Are you ok? Is the baby ok? I didn’t-” he stopped, placing a delicate hand over her still-flat abdomen. 

“Yes, Juggie, I’m fine. We’re fine,” she replied, holding onto his face and smiling at the thought of their baby inside of her, right now. 

“We are, aren’t we?” he said, eyes roaming over her face, that he would never get enough of, before leaning down to kiss her, delirious with happiness. It could never get better than this. 

Not Easily Dismissed: An Alfie Solomons One Shot (requested)

heyyyyyy i’m backkk 😏😉 hope you had a great birthday :))) and ‘birthday wish’ damn darling that was truly amazinggggg i love it️but yes i’m back with another request this one is called 'make up sex’ maybe where they have fight but make up afterrrr 😉😉if ya catch my drift love ya lots 😘😘 –k

Warnings:  yeah Alfie swears and gets some sex, what else is new? 


Not Easily Dismissed

 Alyona shrugged her shoulders and laughed at the oddity of the remark.

“Why would I not be here Ms. Shannon?   I work here don’t I?”

Ms. Shannon’s eyes widened and she cast a quick glance at Gil, who immediately dropped his own gaze to the floor he was currently sweeping.   Her eyes returned to the young woman, who had already proceeded towards the kitchen and was reaching for her apron.   Confusion etched into the lines of her face when she saw a young girl already doing her assigned tasks.    Ms. Shannon waited nervously in the doorway.  He said it was all taken care of?   Once more she watched as Alyona began checking the daily orders.    Yeah, then why is she here?   She shrugged her shoulders and decided it was not her place to interfere.  

Alyona glanced over at the Bakery Manager she had grown to admire and love.   Ms. Shannon was a force to be reckoned with – the only one allowed to get the last word on Alfie Solomons.   Even he wasn’t quite sure how she managed the feat.    She felt the weight of her curious gaze and paused in her labours.

“Is everything all right Ms. Shannon?”

The woman shifted her stance, “Well I don’t rightly know dear.  He said ya’d be fine with the arrangement… but yet, ‘ere ya are.   Showing up and all.”

Her head tilted to the side, brow furrowed, “Why wouldn’t I show up… who said I’d be fine…. what arrangement?”   Her knuckles kneaded alongside her temples, the first tinge of pain taking root.  

“Why the boss did of course.”

“Alfie?”

Ms. Shannon nodded. “Course, who else make the rules ‘round here.”  

She stood a little straighter, eyes narrowed and hands resting on her hips.   “I see… and what rule did Alfie Solomons make concerning me?”

Ms. Shannon noted the change of tone in her voice.  How the words were carefully measured.    Dammit, leave it to that daft man to mess such a delicate thing all to shite.  

She took a deep breath and the young woman by the shoulders gently.  “Now remember Alyona, don’t go shooting the messenger, right?”

~

Alfie and Ollie were at his desk, heads bent studying a recent contract that was causing them no shortage of trouble.   Alfie had already lost his temper several times over the matter and had a good mind to go straight over to the client and solve this matter with his fists.   He was caught mid-sentence by the sudden swinging of his door wide open.   Alyona stood in the middle and he could see her eyes blazing from clear across the room.

“Get the fuck out Ollie.”

Ollie took two steps away from the desk before he remembered she wasn’t his boss.   Alfie stood up and pulled him back.

“Hey fuck now, ya can’t just come in ‘ere love and talk to Ollie like that.”

“Now Ollie.”

Alyona fixed Ollie with a pointed glare and her toe began a steady tap on the floor.    The young man weighed the odds against his current situation as to which one of the two was more likely to explode – at him.   Never mind at each other.  Something in the girls demeanor settled a deeper fear and he moved forward once again.

Alfie’s hand grabbed him about the elbow.

“He don’t work for ya missy.”

Alyona took three strides into the room, her fists clenched at her sides as her anger unleashed.  

“Well it seems I don’t fuckin work ‘ere anymore either, right Mr. Solomons?!”

Alfie’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack as it suddenly struck him that she was not supposed to be here in the first place.   He released Ollie’s arm.

“Get the fuck out Ollie.”

True to form, the lad made a hasty retreat – but beyond the office door, he turned and headed straight for the bakery.  Surely Ms. Shannon would know what this was all about.   The sounds of raised voices followed him down the passageway as he walked, shoulders hunched about his ears to block the volatile exchange.

Her face was flushed and her eyes had swirled into a fury of colours like the sea during a storm.   Normally he would be mesmerized, but instinct told him this was one time he did not want to get pulled into those depths.  Her foot still tapped the floor; a nail pounding into his skull.   Hands settled on her hips and he can see the whiteness of the fists clenched at her sides.  What the hell was she doing here anyway?  And fuck how was she so beautiful when she was angry at him?  

Her breath hitched in.

“Did you actually fire me?”

Oh shit.

Eyes widened and brows raised, “Did ya not get my note?”

Her head tilted and he was pretty sure an actual dagger flew out of her eye.   “Did ya fire me … with a note?”

Oh fuck.

He came around the front of the desk, using what always worked for him in any negotiation:  his size and volume.

“Now listen sweetie, it ain’t that big a….”

Her hand raised to shake a fist under his nose, “Don’t ya dare fuckin sweetie me right now Alfred Solomons.”

Fuck. Full name.  Not good.  Bad. Very bad.

“Alyona,” he reached out a hand to grab her own, but she pulled it away.  “Fire is a very harsh word here.  That’s not what I was intending at all.  I just assumed…”

Her hand flew up, “Oh ya assumed did ya?   And what did ya assume exactly Alfie?”

“Well fuck love, I’m trying to tell ya ain’t I, right?”

She spread her arms wide, lifted a brow, lips compressed tightly.

“I thought that with all that’s happened ‘round ‘ere of late, ya know – ya getting shot and all, and of course…” he gestured towards her midsection, “what with the possible changes that might be coming… that is, ya might want to take a wee break, is all.”

“And ya decided this all on yer very own.  Without talking to me first?”

“Well, it ain’t written in stone love, no need to get so worked o’er it.  Fuckin work then.”  

She took a step towards him, chin raised defiantly right beneath his own, “Not written in stone then eh? That why Gil’s sister is already working in the kitchen?” 

His face began to molt crimson.  Veins in his thick neck bulging.   As he spat out the next words, his eyes fair popped out of his head, his own rage at being questioned thus over-riding his good sense.

“Well if ya remember, as I’ve told ya before, I am the FUCKIN BOSS of this enterprise.  YOU work for ME.”  He turned his back and walked back around his desk, before adding more calmly, “At least.. ya DID work for me.”

Her arms folded across her chest.  Head bobbed up and down.  “Did? So that’s that then?”

“Fuck yeah, that’s done, yeah.”

Her eyes glinted hard as stone back at him, but he could see the wetness brimming behind the anger.   Unfolding her arms she gave him one last withering look before turning on her heel.

“Ya got a lot of nerve Mr. Solomons.”

Alfie exploded from behind his desk once more, fist crashing down before the volley of words was unleashed with the speed of machine gun fire.   Words like respect and trust and doing as yer damn told  fell on her ears, yet she stood small and quiet, her back still turned to him; the words not even registering – though they struck deep into her heart.   Alfie paused in mid tirade, half willing her to face him.   He needed to see her eyes… but the wall of her back only incited another unrestrained fury.   He didn’t like to be questioned in such a manner!   And then she began to walk away.  

Fuck.  Fuck. She was walking away.  

No one fucking walked away from him – especially not in the middle of one of his infamous tirades.   He kept telling himself that even as he slowly sank to his chair, eyes locked on the door she’d quietly closed.

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I’m Willing to Wait for It (Laurens x Reader) (Part Three)

I’m Willing to Wait for It - Part 3 -

Laurens x Reader

Warnings: Kissing, crying, uhhh more crying idk 

Words: 1,613 boiiiiiiii

A/N: fresh outta da oven. enjoy. stay rad.

Masterlist


Everyone, except for Peggy who’s asleep with her head on Eliza’s lap, takes turns explaining the crazy scheme to me on how it’ll work and what I’m supposed to do.

“So, basically we will slowly chip the mirror part off so you can get through.” Angelica comments.

I give them a worried look.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I question. John takes my hand and squeezes it. Alex walks over to the mirror and points to a small crack on it.

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anonymous asked:

scenario with tsukki, kuroo, iwai, yams and suga aNGST where they get into a really really heated fight with their s/o and she like storms out and then it starts to get later and later in the day and soon its really dark and v v late and no one can find her and the guys start like lowkey freaking out or just how they would handle the situation? :333 sorry f thats too many characters!

mmm yeah, 4 is my limit (although it’s a little ambiguous in the rules, so i’ll fix that) so i’m gonna drop someone. i currently have a lot of tsukishima requests, so i’ll break it up a little bit and drop him for this one. you can always send in another request for him later!

i accidentally made this college!au 


Kuroo

From: Kozume Kenma

To: Kuroo Tetsurou

Sent: 12:24 AM

Message: I’d never seen him before.

Shit.

When Kenma had first texted him about you that night, Kuroo assumed you had found your way to Kenma’s dorm. He’d find you there, safe and sound, with a game controller in your hands. It would be a tense few moments, but you would stand up and thank Kenma for letting you stay with him so late into the night. Kuroo would walk you back to your place, the first minute or so of the trip also tense. Eventually, one of you would pipe up and quietly work it out under the light of a streetlamp. Then, you would walk home hand-in-hand and give him a kiss goodnight. That’s how it had always been.

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Brother

AN: This drabble has been a wip for months now…I decided to just post. It’s a fun idea but idk what else I want to do with it.


Working alongside Kylo Ren was vexing and often fruitless. Searching for a kriffing map together had led to the untimely demise of Starkiller Base and the deaths of thousands–not that General Hux held a grudge. That would be unproductive, to say the least.

Still, dread pooled in his gut when Hux was summoned to a communication chamber aboard the Finalizer, much less grand than the vast hall Supreme Leader Snoke would appear to them on Starkiller. Kylo Ren, the juvenile, bumbling oaf, was already present and had undoubtedly been kneeling before his master’s visage for some time, if the stiffness of his shoulders were anything to go by. 

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a flame in the dark to follow

Summary: For it’s the people who make the city, and if there’s anything Adrien’s always known about Ladybug, it’s that she loves Paris. Loves it enough to don that suit that makes her so iconic, makes her so easy to look up to, and makes her fling herself into the face of danger so others don’t need to.

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Pairing: Ladrien

AN: Happy birthday to @miraculousturtle! And a good excuse to finally write some Ladrien. Happy reading!
( Fanfiction.net )
( AO3 )


When Adrien finally arrives on scene, he is two hours late and bitterly kicking the fact that he has to fight his way through hoards of tourists rather than the akuma he should be helping Ladybug with.

Alya’s blog has already told him that Ladybug’s first Lucky Charm hadn’t worked; that The Deliverer’s envelopes swallow people whole, leaving only their terrified voices screaming out from the flaps; and that he is late.

He ducks into a small, empty shop and spots the small supply closet tucked away in the corner. The sudden quiet in the dead space rings eerily in his ears compared to the screams outside.

The handle of the supply closet jams but Adrien heaves and shoves his way through. The moment right before the door closes behind him, the unmistakable sweep of sparkling light envelops another figure before they are both swallowed by cold darkness.

Adrenaline rings in his ears and impatience itches fiercely across his skin, but the silence muffles both sensations, leaving a wary hesitance.

Light flares out from his phone and in his fumbling, it flashes over Ladybug’s face.

Ladybug’s unmasked face.

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Pity Party

Originally posted by kths

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: demon!Taehyung, angst

Words: 1.8k

“It’s my party

And I’ll cry if I want to”

She’s slumped over the bar, arms braced in front of her, head hung over her glass like she’s literally trying to drown herself in alcohol.

Her phone feels like lead in her pocket, inactive and cold against her thigh. The bartender glances at the woman warily, zoned out into her half empty glass; she’s been here for three hours, and has only spoken once to ask for “the strongest stuff you’ve got,”

“Ms.,” He calls out tentatively. “A-Are you alright,”

Her head snaps up, and the bartender flinches when wide eyes find his. She grins, the dry skin of her lips splitting, and the taste of copper fills her mouth.

“No,” She sighs. “It’s my birthday,”

Shaken, the bartender slowly reaches for his phone, only to stop when a man appears behind her, resting a gentle hand between her shoulder blades.

“Well then, happy birthday, birthday girl!”

She turns to her left to gawp at the man beside her, uttering awed “T-Thank you,”

The man shoots the bartender a reassuring wink before taking the seat next to her. “That’s the nicest thing someone has said to me all day,” she confesses, ears tinged pink at how pathetic she sounds. Her new companion chuckles lightheartedly, swiveling in his seat so that is knees bump hers.

“Really? Well no wonder you look so sad,” he spreads his hands in front of him, gesturing to the bar in front. “What can I do to make your day, birthday girl?”

She giggles, biting her lip and tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “For starters, you can tell me your name?”
He leans back, offering her a hand with a playful look in his eye. “Kim Taehyung, at your service,”

“Y/N,” She shakes his hand and smiles, the mischievous look on his face contagious. He frowns. “No last name?”

At this, she pulls her hand away, leaning onto the bar. “I think that’s something you’ll have to earn,”

“Alright,” His grins seems to get impossibly wider. “I love a good challenge,”

Keep reading

stars
ao3 / ff.net
cresswell tangled!au

there’s really no cool way to tell someone you wrote 6k words of fanfic for their birthday, but here goes……HAPPY BIRTHDAY @eerna !! you are such a kind, funny, sweet person with amazing talent and you deserve every moment of happiness this birthday brings you and so much more. <333 (my only hope is to make your day that much better with some cresswell fluffy cute…)


The world wasn’t ready for Crescent Moon.

At least, that is what she told herself as she lay on her bed, her face turned toward the marvelous constellations, the wheeling galaxies that sprawled across the tower ceiling. She had painted an entire sky just for herself, and Cress adored every inch of it.

Mistress Sybil, Cress’s generous caretaker, had spent many of the spare moments of her young life hammering into her head that the world would devour her if she stepped out of her tower. Sybil told her the awful things she heard: about cruel men who would sell her off piece by piece, about beasts that lurked in the forest just beyond the tower’s meadow, about earthquakes and fires and floods.

She told Cress many horrible stories about the world outside her tower. But Sybil never mentioned the stars.

Cress did not ask her about them.

But she was sure—absolutely, viscerally sure, as she lay there drinking in the painted light of her own universe—that a world with such stars in it could not possibly be all that bad.

And so she always whispered to herself as she wrapped her hair around her fingers, that the world simply wasn’t ready for her yet. She promised herself she would see it someday.

Cress hoped the world would be ready by then.

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A Perfect Storm Part 5

Characters:  Dean, Sam, Cas, Reader

Summary:  Reader is an actress on the show Supernatural.  She’s ripped from her world and thrown into Sam and Dean’s.

Word Count:  1759

Warnings:  Language

Tags are the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

“Jesse Turner?”  Dean looks as if he’s sifting through files in his brain.  “Hey, is that the kid you tried to gank? Dude. That kid turned you into an action figure.” You try to stifle a giggle at the look of glee on Dean’s face. 

“Wait, Cas, what does any of this have to do with Jesse?” Sam looks troubled.

“I’m not sure. There have been whispers among the angels that the antichrist has arrived. In a small town in Ohio there is talk of a new a new ‘messiah’. Small miracles are being performed. It all seems a bit strange. I’m going to investigate. Meanwhile, the three of you need to research the antichrist.”

Dean sighs as the angel blinks out of the room. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

Keep reading

The Twins of Storybrooke:  For the Love of Ice Cream

Summary:  This is a “short” with some cute dialogue between Swan-Mills Charming Family.  The Twins are cute.  Swan Queen is cute.  Just some Friday Fluff.

———-

Snow White is watching over her granddaughters while their mothers have an emergency department head meeting on a Saturday afternoon.

With the meeting over, Regina and Emma walk through the loft’s front door to find Snow and Audrey coloring and Sophie and Neal playing with action figures.

THE TWINS:  MOMS!

REGINA:  (embraces a hugging Audrey)  Hi there.

EMMA:  (intercepts a charging Sophie and sweeps her into her arms)  Whoa!  So what are you two up to?

Keep reading

The Dance

Prompt: “Could youplease do an imagine where the (female) reader is a Stormtrooper and she and phasma are in a secret relationship & she keeps faking problems with her gun so she and phasma can be together and then one day after she fakes it yet again and everyone else is getting suspicious, phasma proposes not necessarily in front of everyone but definitely front of a lot of others? And then she teases the reader on how she doesn’t have to fake it anymore & they kiss and its super sweet?”

Pairing: Phasma x F!reader

Warning: None

“FN-1001, what seems to be the problem?”

You sighed, banging on your blaster with your fist before a pair of chrome boots stepped into your vision. Your eyes trailed up their legs—seeing your reflection in the shiny chrome, wearing your own set of armor, though it was standard white—past the utility belt and the deep black shawl until finally resting on her helmet.

“I don’t know,” You said, throwing the blaster onto the bench beside you. A few of your fellow troopers’ eyes wandered over to the exchange, some taking note of the familiarity with which you spoke to your superior. “It jammed again.”

Phasma stood still for a moment, watching you. Anyone else may have become uncomfortable under her gaze, truly it was impossible to tell where she was looking, but you were totally at ease. She turned on her heel, the movement almost mechanical, and began to make her way out of the room.

“Follow.”

And you did, your helmet under your arm as you snatched up your blaster once more and holstered it. She took you to a small, secluded room furnished with a number of tool and work benches. As you walked in, Phasma closed the door shut behind you. She removed her helmet as you set yours down on one of the tables.

Without a word, she held out her hand for your blaster, a request you acquiesced immediately, and narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the weapon, checking it thoroughly for any flaws. You leaned against the table and crossed your arms over your chest as you watched her and chuckled quietly, warmth flowing through your veins. You could tell she was worried about you, worried that your weapon might malfunction in the midst of battle. You rarely got a chance to spend any time together and Phasma was always better at maintaining a kind of professionality that you could not. To see her so openly care about your wellbeing was always incredible. Not the whole her worrying about it part, but you would clear that up soon.

“There doesn’t seem to be a problem,” She murmured, still examining the blaster with furrowed brows. “Are you sure it’s not—“

Phasma’s eyes had finally left the blaster, trailing up to find your own before she noticed the smirk on your lips and immediately stopped. Her eyes closed as she let out a small sigh, placing the blaster on the table next to you.

“It was never a problem.”

“No,” You jumped back on to the table, swinging your legs off the edge and beckoned her to come closer, grabbing her hands in your own. “I wanted to see you.”

Phasma searched your face, enjoying the tenderness with which you looked up at her, and let the smile that had been tugging at her lips free. She leaned down, enclosing your lips with her own. You returned the kiss immediately, hand coming up to rest on her cheek. It didn’t last long, however, when your lips grew weary, almost distracted. She pulled away raised a brown in question, resting a hand on your knee as you stared off, thinking.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“Yes,” You sighed, your eyes finding her own, concern evident in her gaze. “I just…I love you. And I understand that there are regulations, I would never ask for a totally open relationship, but I hate dancing around this. Around us. It feels like we’re criminals or something. I hate not being able to say that I’m with you.”

Phasma looked away, lips forming a thin line. She wanted to tell you that the feeling was mutual, but refrained, unsure of the implications. She would have to take some time to think…ponder where she wanted to go next. Truthfully, she’d never thought of a next step. Her loyalty and devotion was to the First Order. And you. And as long those two things never became mutually exclusive, she would be a happy woman. It seems things had changed, however. She would have to acclimate.

A week later, you sat in the shuttle you’d just arrived back in with the rest of your fire team. Most of them had cleared out by now, but a few stragglers remained. You looked over your blaster, rubbing at a chip where a rebel soldier had bashed his blaster against yours in an attempt to knock it from your hands.

“Hey, Double-O,” You turned your head to find one of your friends, FN-4334, sitting beside you with a sly smirk on her lips. You raised a brow, dreading whatever gossip or scandal she had picked up on.

“What’s that look for, Echo?”

Her eyes dropped down to your blaster.

“Having problems again?” She grinned up at you and you could practically hear the gears working in her mind. “Waiting for Captain Phasma to come ‘round and sweep you away?”

You raised your brows at her, heart momentarily sinking, before you wiped away any evidence of shock on your face and returned your attention to your blaster.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” She scoffed lightheartedly, hands gripping the helmet in her lap. “Everyone thinks somethings up.”

You head snapped over to her, all attempts to remain calm forgotten.

Everyone?”

You knew you had been duped the moment Echo pressed her fist to her hand to silence her giggles.

“No, but now I do.”

You banged the back of your head against the shuttle wall before turning to her with a fierce look, ignorant to the person making their way up the shuttle ramp to stand a few paces behind you.

“Listen, Echo, there is nothing going on between Captain Phasma and me, understand?”

“Is that so?”

Everything came to a full stop. Your breath, your heart, and the rising anger you felt in the pit of your stomach. Everything. You slowly turned, raising a brow incredulously at the fact that Phasma carried her helmet under her arm—she never had that thing off unless she was in her quarters. She held a hand out for you and you stared unsurely for a moment before taking it, rising as she pulled you forward.

For a while, she just looked at you, her captivating blue eyes boring into your own. It seemed like she had poured all of her love for you into that one look and it made your knees week. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m tired of the dance, too,” She murmured, pulling you closer. “Marry me.”
           The stragglers in the room—including Echo, well, especially Echo—seemed to let out a collective breath, whispers spreading through the small shuttle like wildfire. You ignored all of it, solely focusing on Phasma. You could barely believe the words had come out of her mouth, at first you even thought it was a joke. But she was completely, one-hundred per-cent serious. After the shock began to wear away, a grin began to tug at your lips, your heart nearly exploding in your chest.

“Yes,” You croaked, hands trailing up her arms to her neck, aching to feel her skin beneath the armor. “A hundred times, yes.”

Phasma allowed herself to grin, leaning down to crush her lips against yours. It wasn’t the most glamorous kiss; both of you had a hard time not smiling or laughing against each other’s lips, but that didn’t matter. You felt like you were on cloud nine.

Echo passed the two of you at a brisk pace, time pressing her to get to her next assignment as she smiled to herself.

I knew it!”

Phasma stared down at you, eyes half-lidded and a soft smile on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Now, you won’t have to complain about your blaster after every mission, you can skip beating around the bush and just let everyone know you miss me.”

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face flush and gave her a soft punch on the shoulder. She just chuckled, eager to start the next chapter of your life together.

DEBUTANTES by Julie Murphy

I have waited for this day for too long now. Today, I am presented to the world for the very first time as a woman. Today is my coming out.

I stand for a moment in the empty room full of ornately decorated tables and gold chairs. The space at the bottom of the sweeping staircase is the dedicated stage and dance floor.

It’s where Thomas and I will dance for the first time after he escorts me and I am announced as a debutante. It’s a moment I’ve dreamt of for so long that I can’t tell if this is just another dream or reality.

Before going back upstairs where all the other debutantes prepare themselves, I watch as Thomas and Jackson turn onto the property, the tires of Thomas’s father’s mint 1964 Buick Skylark squealing. With the top down, I can hear them both hooting, like they’ve conquered an untamable beast. Boys will be boys.

“Julia?” I turn to find Frenchy hovering on the steps with her hair in curlers and in nothing but her undergarments and one of her father’s old button-up oxfords.

“They’re here,” I tell her. “It’s going to be perfect.”

Her lips spread into a thin smile. “I have no doubt.”

The dressing room is loud with frantic laughter and shrill voices. Frenchy and I share a dressing station. I watch, hypnotized as she pulls her curlers from her hair and each chestnut ringlet bounces into shape like an exclamation mark.

When she’s done, she stands behind me, her fingers polished with a quietly rebellious coral work their way through my hair. Effortlessly, she sweeps my strawberry blonde locks into a simple French twist.

She drapes a string of pearls around my neck, and I let my fingers brush them gently.

“She would have wanted you to have them.”

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I nod.

“Okay, girls!” calls Miss Penelope. “Time to get those dresses on.”

I help Frenchy into her gown first, a floating floor length chiffon dress with a jewel studded waistline. The bodice fits her perfectly and I can practically envision Jackson’s hungry gaze. “He’s going to love it,” I tell her.

Blush gathers in her chest as she grins knowingly.

“Your turn, Julia.”

I step into my white gown, the most important dress I’ll likely ever wear—second only to my wedding gown. My mother picked it out. It’s the kind of dress that commands your attention. A white brocade gown that sweeps the floor and cuts in on my waist. The sweetheart neckline is the good kind of tease. Well, according to my mother, and the soft chiffon off the shoulder sleeves flutter as I move, a nice reminder not to take myself so seriously.

Once we’re dressed, I take Frenchy’s hand as we sneak off down the hallway to where the escorts are.

“Frenchy! Julia! Where are you two running off to?” calls Miss Penelope.

“To wave at our mothers from the balcony,” I tell her.

“Well, be quick about it. Don’t let anyone else see you.”

Frenchy and I look to each other and giggle. “Yes, ma’am!”

Down the hallway, I duck my head into the sitting room that is currently serving as the holding pen for the suitors. I point a long finger at Thomas and Jackson, summoning them. The two of them look devilishly good in their tuxedos. Thomas’s raven hair is freshly cut and Jackson’s white blonde curls are the kind of thing girls go crazy for. Too bad for them. He’s all Frenchy’s.

I take Frenchy’s hand again as the door shuts quietly behind me, “Come on,” I tell her.

We dash down the hallway and up another set of stairs as the sitting room door swings open.

“I see you!” calls Thomas.

Their shiny dress shoes slap against the floor. “Ready or not, here we come,” says Jackson.

“We’re waiting,” says Frenchy in a sing-song voice.

“And we have been for quite some time,” I mutter.

Frenchy giggles as the boys take the stairs two at a time.

Thomas sees me first. He stops on the landing with his hand over his heart. “Christ. You look absolutely incredible.”

He takes the two steps toward me and sweeps me off my feet, swinging me in a circle.

Jackson does the same with Frenchy. He groans into her ear. “French, you’re killing me, doll.”

I take Thomas’s hand. “Follow us. We’ve got a few minutes before anyone comes looking.

I lead the four of us to an empty bedroom on the third floor. I wonder briefly about what wicked things have happened in this place, but I have no energy to pay mind to forgotten pasts.

A dark velvet canopy hangs over the richly decorated bed.

Frenchy and I perch on the edge and I squeeze her hand quickly. Today, we become women.

Thomas and Jackson saunter toward us, and I know it’s crazy and maybe even sickening to some, but I’m so glad not to be doing this alone.

Thomas hooks a thumb behind my ear and pulls me toward him, our lips colliding. It’s hard for me to see what Jackson and Frenchy are up to, but I can hear them. Kissing, giggling, and moaning. My sweet Thomas rucks up my skirt and separates my knees with his hips.

I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long. This exact moment.

I pull back and cough three times as he continues to kiss down my neck. Over my pearls. Over her pearls. And onto my chest.

My dreams become reality as I plunge an unexpected knife into his gut.

He grunts and groans, and the noises he makes aren’t so different from how he sounded a moment ago. Sex and death have more in common than I anticipated.

Beside me Frenchy stands as Jackson’s body hits the antique oriental carpet with a dull thud. Blood pools around him, saturating the carpet. Jackson rolls over onto his side, attempting to crawl away, but Frenchy straddles him before he can get very far.

Thomas still stands before me and I stab indiscriminately.

“What are you doing?” he sputters, blood and drool dripping from his lips.

He pushes me back against the bed, holding his gut with one hand and my throat with the other.

“This is for Greta,” I tell him.

He searches my face frantically. “Julia, I didn’t hurt Greta. I didn’t touch her. I don’t know what sick fucks did, but it wasn’t me and Jackson I swear.” He stumbles forward, restraining my knife-bearing arm.

I gasp for air as he presses down on my windpipe. I wonder for a moment if he’s telling the truth and if Frenchy and I are somehow wrong. But that can’t be. I know for certain. He and Jackson took Greta from us. They used her body and hung her from a tree. They left her strung up there naked. On her own parent’s property. They did that to her and they left her there to die. The coroner said her neck didn’t even snap, so she suffocated to death slowly. Like I am now.

Our wonderful Greta. The missing point in our trinity. Our best friend who we must now survive without.

My vision goes foggy just as he yells, Frenchy pulling him off of me.

It takes me a moment to come to, but when I do, I find Thomas and Frenchy wrestling on the ground beside Jackson’s limp body.

With my knife, I stab him in the shoulder, giving Frenchy a moment to de-entangle herself from him. And then again in the gut.

Blood pours from his mouth, as he says, “She begged.” He spits in my face.

And that’s all I need to hear. I rear my arm back and drive my knife deep into his chest.

Life flutters in his eyes, and then he’s gone.

It was to fast, I think. He should have suffered even more.

“We gotta go!” says Frenchy, her chest heaving and her once white dress splattered with blood.

I look down to find myself in the same state. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and force my brain to remember The Plan.

Digging into Thomas’s pockets, I find his father’s keys.

Frenchy grabs the small getaway bag we’d left behind the nightstand and the two of us race down the servant’s stairs and out to where all the cars are parked.

I hear my mother’s voice. She can’t see me and she’s not calling to me. But I can hear her somewhere outside chattering with someone. Small talk bubbles from her freely, and I only wish I could say goodbye. She’ll look back on this moment and always wonder exactly where she was and at what point it was too late.

Frenchy jumps into the passenger seat of Thomas’s father’s car as I slide in behind the wheel. I pull my dress up so my feet can find the pedals.

As we turn the corner out of the property, the tires squeal like they had earlier today. Once we hit the highway, Frenchy takes my hand and she doesn’t let go. There’s no going back. Not ever.

Today, we became women, because Greta never will.

millin21  asked:

Mona shows Raph some new moves during training. (ends with Splinter stepping in on them smooshing their noses together-nothing else)

Your wish is my command XD

One on One

“Okay, so you kick your leg out before or after you leap?”

“After. And then that is where I would use my tail, but seeing as you don’t have one…as far as I can tell…you may have to alter the move slightly. Try using your right foot immediately after kicking out with your left as a substitute.”

“Oh, okay, got it. Alright, let’s try it one more time. You ready, Mona?”

Getting into position, the Salamandrian warrior nodded once, smiling confidently at her opponent as she put up her fists. “Ready when you are, Raphael. Rokka Rokka!”

From where he stood beneath the evergreen tree, both hands braced atop his cane, the old ninja master watched with great interest as his second eldest child – third eldest now, he had to remind himself – charged at his alien sparring partner, attempting to imitate the move she’d shown him before.

He leapt into the air, his left foot kicking out, aimed at her face, which she parried with her forearm, before his right leg lashed out in a sweeping motion. At that, her tail whipped out, wrapping around his ankle, swinging him around and throwing him into the wall.

Splinter winced a little when he heard his shell connect with the brickwork. He was undoubtedly going to feel that in the morning.

With a groan of pain, Raphael slid down the wall and collapsed to the carpet, flat on his face. “…ow,” he muttered into the floor.

The salamander chuckled, sauntering over to the unfortunate turtle. “Not quite, Raphael. And this is the third time in a row that I’ve taken you down,” she said, extending her webbed hand out for him to take hold of as she regarded the mutant with a knowing smile. “Should we try once more? Or have you finally accepted your defeat by my hand?”

From the other side of the room, Splinter stifled a chuckle as he shook his head. After such a taunt, it wouldn’t take April’s psychic abilities to foretell what was to happen next.

Taking her hand and allowing himself to be hauled effortlessly to his feet, Raph looked up at the smirking lizard woman, pouting sourly. He then sighed, shaking his head and planting his hands on his hips. “Well, I don’t know if you knew this, but there’s a saying…”

He jumped, left foot striking the side of her face followed by his right foot sweeping behind her legs, knocking her right off her feet with a startled shout. Mona Lisa hit the ground, and Raphael planted his knee on her stomach, pinning her down as he drew his fist up for the finishing blow. However, his fist never fell, and instead, he grinned widely.

“…fourth time’s the charm.”

This time, Splinter did chuckle, for not only had Raphael succeeded, but the look on the young woman’s face was quite amusing as she blinked up at him, utterly taken aback by what had just happened, before she returned his grin.

“Very good, Raphael,” she said as he released her, and held out his hand for her to take.

“I am inclined to agree,” said Splinter, approaching the duo as they stood side by side, facing the ninja master. “Not only did you take advantage of your opponents’ temporary distraction, but you have mastered a new technique, a very impressive and effective one, I might add.” He then nodded at Mona Lisa. “I thank you for sharing such a skill, Mona Lisa. You are truly a remarkable warrior.”

Smiling, Mona Lisa bowed her head to the rat. “Thank you, Master Splinter. It is a great honor to spar with your son under your instruction,” she said, turning to look down at the shorter turtle, deep affection filling her dark eyed gaze. In turn, as he looked up at her, the red clad turtle’s emerald green eyes filled with adoration, his cheeks turning a light shade of crimson as a bashful grin spread across his face.

Splinter looked between the two of them, and a smile soon grew across his muzzle. Though the news of his most hot-headed son suddenly having a girlfriend – an alien girlfriend, for that matter – had been nothing short of a surprise for the rat master, as well as the most uncanny tale of their adventures in outer space, he could not deny that seeing such love in his son’s eyes, the same love he had felt towards the former love of his life, Tang Shen…it warmed his heart in ways no words could truly convey. And knowing that such love was fully reciprocated only intensified the feeling.

For years, though it hadn’t hurt to hope, Splinter had believed that his four wonderful sons would never find the true love they deserved. However, the night his boys had first encountered April O’Neil had been the start of him being proven wrong when Donatello took a liking to the young red head. And the events that followed with Leonardo and Karai, Michelangelo and this Renet girl he had yet to meet, and now with Raphael and the wonderful Mona Lisa…it was simply so surreal.

The happiness of his children was all Splinter had ever truly wanted. And to see the two of them now, lost in each other’s gaze…

It gave him an idea.

With lightning speed, Splinter set down his cane, grabbed both Mona Lisa and Raphael by the back of their heads before they could possibly react, and without further ado –

“MMPH!”

–he pressed their muzzles together.

“SENSEI!” Raph cried as soon as they parted, whilst Mona Lisa stood there looking very flustered as she blushed hard.

Chuckling, Splinter picked up his cane and began to walk away. He was a ninja master and teacher, and a very disciplined one at that. But he was also a father of four boys – well, five counting Casey – and two teenage girls; it was also his duty to embarrass his children when he saw fit. “Please, Raphael. I am well aware that this is not the first time the two of you have kissed,” he said, taking full inward delight in hearing the strangled sound of humiliation coming from his son.

Then, pausing at the exit of the dojo, he turned to look over his shoulder at the couple, grinning.

“Also, I might add, with how quickly the two of you have established your relationship, I shall be expecting grandchildren very soon.”

Raphael’s jaw seemed to drop to the floor, eyes impossibly wide and face turning a very bright shade of red to match the hue of his mask. Beside him, Mona’s eyes had grown just as wide, before they darted over to Raph. Then, much to Raphael’s further mortification, she began to smirk behind her hand.

“D-DAD!” Raphael screeched, his voice cracking two whole octaves.

Still grinning, Splinter merely turned on his heel and swiftly exited the dojo, making his way to the kitchen to serve himself some tea and a well-deserved cheese-sicle.

Ah, young love.

Help

Not sure about your take on whether of not Reid has Aspergers Syndrome, but could you do a one shot revolving around that? Like, the reader (his girlfriend) is with him during one of his rare episodes or when the autism is really noticeable and she is helpful and supportive. Thank you for maybe writing this

I can most certainly do this!  Here is your one shot, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 2  Part 3)


Hearing Spencer’s phone buzz, you groan as you roll over and reach out for his phone.

Everyone was pretty used to you answering whenever he wasn’t available.

Which was really only when he was in the shower.

“Hello?” you croak as you take in a deep breath.

“Y/N, tell Spencer he needs to get to the hospital.”

“Aaron?” you breathe, sitting up slowly in bed as you register the urgency in his voice.

“Yes.  It’s the one nearest the FBI office.  Morgan’s there now.”

“Why’s Derek in the hospital?” you ask.

“He’s been in an accident…” Hotch trails off.

But Spencer must have heard your conversation from the shower.

“Tell Hotch I’m on my way!” he shouts, running out with soapy hair as he begins throwing his clothes around.

Uh oh.

“Alright, Aaron.  We’lll be there soon,” you say as you shut the call down.

“Spencer…” you lull.

You saw his fingers going a hundred miles a minute.  It was a tick had whenever he got nervous.  You saw it the first time he had tried to ask you out, and you had seen it just before the first time the two of you had kissed.  You saw it the first time he had contemplated kissing you somewhere else besides your lips, and you definitely saw it before he asked you to move in with him.

It was rare that Spencer’s autistic tendencies got the better of him, but whenever he was flustered or incredibly nervous, it was prevalent.

Getting out of bed as you walk over to him, you see him struggling to get the shirt over his head.

And without a word, you take the shirt from him and pick his discarded towel off of the floor, his fingers now trying to work the button and zipper on the pants he had pulled from under the bed as you try to wipe most of the soap from his hair.

Grabbing another shirt out of his closet, you bunch it up before stretching the collar, pulling it over his head as his mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out.

It was rare that you ever saw Spencer speechless.

But it was happening now.

“Hey hey hey,” you coo, cupping his face in your hands as you watch his eyes dart across your face.

“He’s gonna be alright,” you soothe.

Watching your panicked boyfriend swallow hard, you hold his gaze as your fingers dip down to his pants, buckling the button and zipping the zipper before he began to nervously chew on his lip.

Taking his shoulders and moving him to the bed, you work on getting his socks on before slipping on his shoes, watching as he curls his fingers within the plain white shirt as he continues to chew on his lip, his eyes darting around the room.

And then you slowly felt him begin to rock.

“Come on,” you whisper as you see him open his mouth once again.

Grabbing your house robe and swinging it around your shoulders, you pull your hair back into a low-neck bun before grabbing your keys and purse, ushering Spencer quickly out of his apartment as the two of you stumbling down the steps.

It was hard for him to coordinate his feet whenever he was like this.

Soon, the two of you found yourselves sprinting for the front desk of the hospital, your fingers searching for your phone as you try to recall Spencer’s boss’ number from memory.

But when the two of you approached the desk, all Spencer could do was stare at the woman with his jaw unhinged.

Watching him continuously open and close his mouth, his fingers twisted so tight into his shirt that you saw the tips of them turning a dark red, you step forward and take the reigns, your hand on the small of Spencer’s back as he shuffles from foot to foot.

“Derek Morgan, please.  Do you know where we can find him?” you ask.

“The FBI guy?  He’s in ICU right now.  Everyone’s expecting you two soon.”

Listening to the directions she was giving you, you turn around to find Spencer staring off, tears trickling down his face.

You had seen him struggle, but you had never seen him any worse off than this.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you coo, wrapping your arm around him and guiding him down the hallway.

After what seemed like an eternity, the two of you come off of the stairwell and dump out into a hallway, immediately seeing the team as J.J. and Aaron come rushing up to the two of you.

You held out your hands, trying to urge them to stop.

As they sweep their eyes over their colleague, taking in his blank stare and his twitching fingers, you slowly lead him to the door as the team stands, watching his reaction as Spencer slowly walks into Derek’s hospital room.

Tubes were running everywhere.

Watching Spencer slowly sit down in a chair, his legs jiggling as he transfers his fingers to the piece of sheet laying off of Derek’s bed, you lean against the door frame and wrap your arms around your bra-less chest, tears rising to your own eyes as you finally hear Spencer’s voice come to life.

“M-…Morgan…?” Spencer breathes.

And then you saw Derek’s eyes open.

“Oh god, Morgan,” Spencer breathes, his hand no longer twisting into the sheet as he meanders it to Derek’s hand.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Morgan croaks gravelly.

“Ma’am?” you ask, stopping a nurse in the hallway as she looks at you.

“Is he allowed to have any jello?” you ask, pointing to Derek as the nurse takes his chart from his door.

“Looks like he should be fine,” the woman beckons.

“Could you bring them a few cups?” you ask, “But not the lime kind?  They hate the lime kind.”

“Sure,” the woman smiles lightly, making a few marks before setting Derek’s file back into the room.

Sighing as you lean your head back into the wall, you find your legs guiding you to a chair as Spencer’s weak voice slowly wafts into the hallway, following always by Derek’s low, gravelly voice as he tries to clear it to gain some traction.

You weren’t quite sure how long you were sitting there, but it was long enough to nod back off.

And curl your legs up onto the elongated chair.

And lay yourself down.

What woke you up was the fluttering of a blanket down over your body.

Breathing in deep through your nose, you feel a pair of warm, soft lips come down on your forehead as you grunt lightly.

And that’s when you heard it.

Your beautiful boyfriend’s chuckle.

“Spencer…?” you groan lightly.

“Get some more rest,” he whispers, kissing your ear lightly as you curl into the blanket he had fluttered over your body.

Nodding lightly as you curl tighter into yourself, you feel him raise up and pad away just as Aaron’s voice hits your ear.

“She’s a good woman, Reid,” he says as he stops Spencer at Derek’s room door.

“She’s uh…she’s never seen me that bad before,” he says weakly.

“I don’t think any of us have,” Hotch admits.

“You think that uh…you think I scared her?” Spencer asks.

His voice broke your heart.

“No.  I don’t think you scared her,” Hotch says as he puts his hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“You know…I was uh…I was cleaning the other day,” Spencer starts.

“Cleaning, huh?” Hotch smirks.

“Yeah,” Spencer snickers, “a-a-and…when I was folding the bed, I opened up the drawer beside Y/N’s side of the bed to put a hair tie in there that I’d found.”

So that’s where that thing went.

“Yeah?” Hotch asks.

“You know I found a book in there?  Well, a couple actually.  One is on the autism scale, and one of them is a book on how to help and cope with a loved one struggling with Asperger’s.”

Now you had opened your eyes.

“Do you think I’m a burden to her?” he says weakly.

And that’s when you sat up on the bench.

Watching as Hotch nods over to you, you see Spencer twist his head around, his eyes growing slightly on his face as you slowly stand to your feet.

“I think you’re one of the most intelligent individuals I’ve ever met,” you say as you take a step towards him.  “I think that you’re kind, and selfless, and hard-working.”

Spencer ended up turning his entire body so that he was completely facing you.

“You are handsome, and well-traveled, and courageous, and loving…” you trail off as you stop just shy of his feet, your head craning back to look into his eyes.

“But do you know what you’re not, Dr. Reid?” you ask as he brow furrows lightly.

“W-w…what?” he stammers nervously.

“A burden,” you whisper lightly.

Watching as Spencer dips down towards you, he quickly threads his arms underneath yours as he cloaks your back in his long appendages, pulling you close as your hands fly around his neck, your fingers working their way through his matted, knotted hair as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“I love you, Y/N,” Spencer admits.

It was the first time in your two year relationship…and yes, that includes him asking you to move in with with…that you had ever heard that statement fly from his lips.

You felt it in his kiss.

You saw it drip from his body during sex.

You even saw it ricochet from your arguments just before he pulled you in for a long, tight, sorrowful embrace.

But you had never actually heard him say it.

“Oh, Spencer…” you breathe, your jaw trembling as you hold him closer to you, feeling his lips pepper kisses along your neck.

“I love you, too.  Dear god, I love you so much.”

“Way to go, pretty boy,” Derek croaks from his room, his eyes peeling open as you release Spencer from your embrace and look over towards Derek in his room.

“Derek, do I need to remind you again that cars aren’t made of protein? You can’t just run into them head-on,” you smirk as a broken chuckle radiates from Morgan’s chest.

“Oh, you got jokes?” he rasps.

And that’s when you felt Spencer’s lips connect with the side of your head.

“I’m gonna go get you a change of clothes and your toothbrush,” you say as you pat his chest.

“Wait, why?” Spencer asks.

“Well, patients in ICU can only have one visitor stay over with them,” you say matter-of-factly.

And then your eyes connected with Spencer’s again.

“I love you,” he says lowly, the intensity in his eyes shocking even you as you feel yourself holding your breath.

You couldn’t seem to formulate words any longer.

So you decided to move instead.

Raising up to your tip-toes, you plant your lips lightly onto his, your hand meandering from his chest to his cheek as you cup his face lightly, your tongue swiping over his lips slowly before pulling back reluctantly and nuzzling your nose against the tip of his.

“I’ll be back with a few things so you can stay with him,” you whisper as you bring your hand back down and tap his chest.

“Ok, my love,” he whispers as you smile, a light blush creeping into your cheeks.

And as you turn to walk away, your hips lightly sashaying in your nightgown as you pull your house robe tight around you, Aaron walks up behind Spencer and nudges him with his elbow.

“Any reason why you waited so long?” he asks.

“Fear,” Spencer states matter-of-factly.

“A little tip for you?” Aaron says as he turns his gaze to Spencer.

“Yeah?” he asks as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Take the vacation allotted to you.  All of it.  Every year.”

Furrowing his brow, his turns his head towards his boss as he studies the profile of his stern face, your body rounding around the corner of the office as Spencer swallows thickly.

“I will,” he says sincerely, earning a curt nod from his boss.

“I promise.”

in dreams...

This started out from a prompt from happinessisblooming based on her post here about the Camelot Ball and what could happen after. I added in prompts from both euphoric-melancholyy and icapturedkindness after the set pics came out this week (you know the what pics I’m talking about). So yes, this is VERY spoiler filled, so avoid if you are spoiler free. This contains smut, well smuff really, so consider it M rated. And, it’s almost 4000 words. Oops!


It’s in the first week upon their return to Storybrooke from Camelot that the dreams first take hold. They’re always based in memory, quiet moments from his and Emma’s time before the darkness, flashes of their first date and the many more that followed. Bits and pieces of a life seemingly lost all weaved together in his subconscious as a reminder of who he’s fighting for. As more days pass without her by his side, the nightly visions begin to gain focus into a vivid memory of the ball in Camelot and the night and morning that followed. A moment in time so overwhelming in its perfection that if he wasn’t forever changed from it, he could be convinced it was truly only a dream.

-/-

“Your form has improved since the last time we waltzed, love.”

“I simply picked a partner who knew what he was doing.”

His hook tangles further into the laces along her spine, causing her breasts constricted beneath the pink rose embroidered bodice to press closer to his chest and her deep jade velvet skirt to tangle about their legs. Her pink tinged lips lightly graze his cheek as she settles her head against the shoulder of his quilted coat, fashioned similar to his duster with red piping a perfect match to his new leather vest. Pulling her hand onto his chest, he holds her as close as propriety allows, perhaps even a toe over the line of what the royals in this land are accustomed. It will take her father’s blade (or her mother’s bow) to pull him away, each second she’s in his arms more precious with each passing hour. The darkness has only tinged her edges, her stubbornness and determination shakily keeping it at bay in a vow to save herself as only she knows how.

Lifting her head from his chest, she leans in to press her cheek against his, warmth from her breath caressing his ear and sending a jolt of awareness straight to his groin.

“Do you think they will miss us if we leave?”

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