and i made a holes one. which noone liked i guess

Star Above the Waters.

TW: major depictions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, major character death.

The icy cold drops of rain pierce deep into Lance’s tear strewn cheeks, pale with cold as he shivered. It was like little needles flecking his skin and leaving him numb and frigid.

Above him, storm clouds cracked and thundered and rolled, making a symphony of Mother Nature’s deadly desire.

Somewhere in front of him, the sky lit up with light like a match in a dark room, only now it was a lighting strike as it buried itself and made its mark somewhere in the world.

Good for it. It left a lasting impression when it was gone. Something Lance would never be able to accomplish.

He had tried countless times.

Either to be noticed, to be popular, to exist in the eyes of people who weren’t apart of his routine life.

He went to whatever lengths he could, tried to stay out of any negative situation.

Lance was always a people pleaser. He always did his very best to make sure everyone he encountered was left with something good to say about him when he was gone.

But any good start with anyone, would only crumble to bad in some way and have him in ruins. Failure.

It seemed like other people could do it just fine. They could be just like Lance and yet they would be the one to rise up in the world, while he was only sinking lower.

Literally and mentally.

Over the past few weeks Lance had got to thinking pretty hard about life. Not about how to go forward with it, what he could make of it, or even what he had planned in life as it went on.

Lance thought more so on the side of ending it. Which, in that way, could be counted as the same as making it better.

Or at least that’s how Lance saw it.

He’d been looking at the possibilities for weeks, like a kid in the candy store. Any way to get out of the world that he couldn’t stand up in, only put deeper and deeper into a hole that the people around him were digging for him.

In all honesty, maybe he had a shovel himself, but that had only been for a little while. It was a small shovel.

Hanging was out of the question. He read too many history books and seen too many movies to know that if it’s done with the slightest flaw, it won’t be easy.

You have to take in people’s height and weight, and the way the noose is tied in relativity to it all.

He would leave the math to Pidge.

Second option had been using those skills with a firearm that he had. But in all honesty that was too messy and he didn’t like the idea of risking it not going right, distorting his face for the rest of his life.

Although he knew the proper way was to put the shotgun directly behind his ear, he didn’t want to wimp out at something only he could control. Pull the trigger or not, there’s too much room for mind changing.

Lance had already tried pills. But he had already been on so many medications to numb the race of his heart, the workings of his mind, all the boy had gotten in return was a nice euphoria for a few hours.

The stomach pumping afterward wasn’t as pleasant, so again there is too much room for flaw. It needed to be just right.

So here he was.
Standing atop this mere ledge as the thing he loved most fell down around him.

You may be thinking that there is too much chance of let go or not let go, fall or not fall, in this scenario.

But that’s why he chose today of all days.
This ledge of all ledges. It was perfect.

Below the 3 ½ inch strip of concrete his feet balanced on, roared the sea. Lance had always loved the water.

A lighthouse. Dark. 5 pm.

Lance had learn most suicides happened between the times of noon and six in the evening, so why not just blend in with the crowd, since he could never stand out in it?

It was about 230 feet tall from the water, and here Lance stood at 198 feet above.

The boy closed his eyes, which were warm with tears but the rain made his skin cold. He felt a swaying motion, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Everything has an expiration date, whether human or animal or thing.

Nothing doesn’t not come to an end.

It can be chosen by you or for you.
Expected or unexpected.

A thought came to his head, standing hundreds of feet above the water that would soon become one with him and finalize his expiration date.

Lance had always tried to stand out, take risks, try and be noticed and try to be civil.

How come he lived in a world where ‘Take A Life’ was something all you had to do was turn on the television to hear. A social norm almost, something sad, but no you don’t really try and think about it that much.

But ‘Take A Chance’? How is it fair that it seems almost impossible, scary even. Frowned upon, because why would you do that?

What sort of world was that?

Lance lifted on hand from the hold behind him, wiping his cheeks. If he lifted the other, he would fall.

He leaned forward, his free hand swaying at his side as he stared at the back of his eyelids. That questioned repeated itself.

What kind of world is that?

Lance shook his head with a low chuckle, a sad sound that made it past his lips but was then snatched away by the wind.

A tired voice muttered, “Not the kind I want to live in.” With those words, Lance let go.

That wasn’t Lance.
None of them would believe that it was Lance, because how could it be?

It was held in a splayed out position, head back and mouth open, eyes closed.

It’s body was on the verge of turning blue, and had already bloated. It must have been there for hours.

It was dead. A dead, blue thing.

And even though it wore the same clothes, they all refused to believe it was the happy Cuban boy they had come to love and care for, even if he annoyed them sometimes.

They’d gone looking for him after he hadn’t shown up for dinner, and wasn’t back by ten at night.

Keith suggested they go out with flashlights.

Pidge who said wait a little longer.

Shiro who said he’d wait and see if he came back while they were out.

Hunk who found the note on Lances desk.
Shiro who read it out loud, and ran.
Pidge is the one who found it.

The body.

And it was Lance who was dead.

‘I knew someday I’d probably have to write a will or something, you know that thing old people write and families break over.

But I guess I didn’t know I’d be writing my own suicide note. Things had been pretty okay for me as a child.

I wanted to go to space, or become a marine biologist. Stars and water, either one was perfect for me because I loved them both.

Maybe I should say I’m sorry, because that’s what everyone else writes, but I’m not going to.

It would be like saying sorry for the milk expiring, or the toy that broke. I’m just another thing that had an end coming.

We all do.
But I’m not sorry.

I got to see the water, be apart of it, and I know I probably won’t look very pretty when you find me but I didn’t bother to put any makeup on when I woke up for the last time this morning.

Don’t worry, if you look up at night, I’ll look so much better as a star. Among those that I had always wanted to see.

Pidge, you’re such a strong woman and you’re smarter than I could have ever been. When you invent a code that makes memories a reality, please don’t forget about me by then and visit the good ones we had, okay?

Keith, at least from up here I can look down on your mullet, and pretend it looks a lot better than it actually is. Also, do me a favor and make sure Hunk is okay after this. You two seem close to an extent, he is going to need someone to go to. ((If he makes you something to eat, EAT IT.))

Hunk, thank you so much for being my best friend and my brother for all of these years. You’re a good bro, and I’ll make sure to put a good word in up here for you so you can be the Big Guy’s head chef. (Only if I get some snacks though.) I’m trusting you to keep Pidge in check, and make sure you feed those little mice in the shed. I love you.

Shiro, please please watch them all for me. And take care of yourself. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m not helping any, but use them as your support and you as theirs. It’s okay to need someone, everyone needs another. Just make sure they have you, and each other, because I don’t want any of you to end up like me. Stay rad, space Dad.

I don’t care what you do with me, but whatever you do I want to be by the ocean. My final final resting place. Spread my ashes, bury my grave. Just make sure they play Beyoncé at the funeral.

You guys are out of this world.
See you later.

~ Lancey Lance
Motel 96 (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Hostage situation
Word Count: 1359
A/N: This is the first part of my entry for @jurassicbarnes‘s writing challenge!
Prompt: “You were chased by cops and took me as a hostage but you didn’t realized the cops were after me”

Originally posted by winter-barnes


James’ grip on your arm was borderline painful. You had experienced far worse, but the intense pressure with which he was squeezing you to keep you in place was too much to simply ignore. It’s a stark contrast to the gentle way he had touched you last night. He had treated you as if you were glass that might shatter at any moment, but now you were afraid that he was the one who had broken. The barrel of the gun he was holding shook slightly against your temple, indicating that his hand was trembling. He was nervous, unsure. This is not what you had expected to wake up to.

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It Was High Noon -  Overwatch Pre-recall AU!

I laid on the rock hard mattress they called a bed in the corner of my cell, staring at the ceiling. Slow day. Then again, when was it ever not? My schedule for the past 47 days mainly consisted of pacing around my cell, laying in bed, or stalking whatever or whoever I could see from a crack in the wall. At least they let me keep the belt.

This isn’t my first time in jail, but it certainly was my last. I wonder how the others are doing? Is Reinhardt still pursuing glory? Is Dr. Ziegler still helping the sick and needy? Is Winston still trying to recall Overwatch? I wouldn’t know. None of us were the same ever since the shutdown.

None of us.

My train of thought was interrupted by the jingling of the keys and the creaking of my cell door. A guard walked in. Johnny Sanders. Good fella. Wife and two kids at home. I know it ain’t usual for a prisoner to get along with the guard, but he’s a fan of mine. Well… he used to be.

After Overwatch shut down, I went into hiding and waited for things to cool off. It took almost 6 years, but now no one seemed to remember who we are, who we were, or what we did. Peace. Or so I thought. Six years weren’t long enough to erase my name off of the Deadlock Gang’s most wanted list.

During what was our biggest heist back in the day, Overwatch showed up and took most of us down. Some were lucky and escaped with their lives. Me? Not so much. I was interrogated at Overwatch HQ and before they could sentence me to a lifetime in prison, one of them saw potential in me.

Someone by the name of Agent Gabriel Reyes.

He made me join the Blackwatch Team in exchange of my freedom. Blackwatch was the off-the-books unit which did the dirty work - including shutting down more Deadlock operations, something apparently they haven’t forgiven me for yet.

When Deadlock found me they offered me to either join them again, or die on the spot. Wasn’t much of a choice to be honest. Besides, with Overwatch in the history books, my schedule was open, so I joined.

I almost forgot that the Deadlock Gang was as hasty as ever, and we got ambushed robbing a bank in Oregon. Once again, I was in chains. Apparently the police didn’t have a memory as weak as other people did. Jesse McCree - Wanted for Illegal Blackwatch and Deadlock activity - Sentence: Death.

Sanders looked at me, a gun in his right hand, the keys in the other. “Mr. McCree?“ He inched closer. “I uh… I am sorry to inform you about this but… it is time. You have the right to request one last meal before you…” he closed his eyes and sighed. “You know.”

I got up and stretched. “Guess this is it huh? End of the line…” I grabbed my belt from onto the table next to me and wiped the dust off. BAMF. I smiled. “I’ll be honest with ya, Sanders. I never thought this would be the way I’d die. Then again, I never thought I’d last this long.”

“I- Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m wanted in more than 9 countries and hunted by a bit over 17 organizations and gangs. I’ve lost most of my friends and my left arm. I’ve a gambling addiction and a drinking problem to the point where my wallet and my liver themselves turned against me. I should’ve been dead ages ago.” I put the belt down. “Yet here we are.. It’s about time, actually.”

“Jeez, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, kid.” I paused. “Huh… funny. That’s what Reyes used to say before he… changed.” I licked my dry lips. “You know what? I want my last meal to be a bottle of whiskey. The shittiest strongest whiskey you could afford in this damn town.”

“I uhh… I’ll try.” and he left the cell, locking the cell door behind him.

I got up and washed my face before taking a look in the mirror. These gray hairs just don’t wanna quit now, do they? I wiped my face in my tattered shirt and sat by the crack in the wall.

The weather was hot, and the tattered prison outfit wasn’t helping. I stood there, barefoot, with what seemed to be thousands of people staring me down as I stood up there on the wooden stage next to the executioner. Town wasn’t that big, more of a settlement in the middle of the desert. The news must’ve attracted people from all over the country. The Execution of Jesse McCree, ex-Overwatch agent. That’s one for the headlines. It was almost high noon, too. How ironic.

It was almost high noon when I went down on my knees, hands tied behind my back, eyes closed, hair falling over my face, shading me from the scorching sun. The executioner aimed his revolver at my head and whispered “A pity…” and readied his gun.


It was almost high noon when the executioner dropped dead to the floor with a bullet hole in his head. From the way the bullet whizzed by me, from the sound it made as it traveled, I could tell it was shot from a distance. I could tell a lot of other things from that bullet… I didn’t open my eyes. Of course, I thought. He wouldn’t have liked it any other way. I could feel the people run around panicking. I could hear the screams of the terrified women and the shouts of the guards around me.


It was almost high noon when the shouts turned to screams. I still did not open my eyes. There was no need. It was like reading a script or watching a movie you already know the ending to. The air reeked of death and blood, and the weather seemed to grow cooler. What little wind was there had stopped. And the screams of the public seemed to grow muffled. The world seemed to be growing smaller and smaller.

It was almost high noon when his footsteps grew louder. I felt the wooden floor of the stage underneath me shake. Unmistakable. I was still on my knees. My hair still shading me, my hands still tied, and my eyes still closed. For the second time in the span of 2 minutes, I felt another gun push against my head.

It was almost high noon when the atmosphere went silent. The air now carried the unmistakable stench of death and sorrow - his signature aura. The guns pressed against my head was not like the revolver that was in its place before. This was a shotgun. I remember feeling its front before. Funny how the shotguns were the only thing that haven’t changed about him. My eyes were still closed. Now this was how I expected I would die.

I smiled.

It was high noon…


why not both? pt 2.
  • pairing: eisuke ichinomiya x MC x soryu oh.
  • rating: mature, ofc.
  • word count: ~2800.
  • content notice: somehow spanking made its way into this, idk how that happened ://
  • author’s notes: this threesome relationship is just really important to me?? so here’s part two. might make it into a series of sorts, i’m not sure yet. enjoy! 
  • part one.

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Dave Heath     Poets Leroi Jones and Allen Ginsberg, 7 Arts Coffee Gallery, New York City     1959

Lately, I’ve become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus…

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars.
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night I tiptoed up
To my daughter’s room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there…
Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands

–Leroi Jones, “Preface to a 20 Volume Suicide Note” 1961


For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894-1956

Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on
  the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village.
downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking,
  talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues
  shout blind on the phonograph
the rhythm the rhythm–and your memory in my head three years after–
  And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud–wept, realizing
  how we suffer–
And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember,
  prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of An-
  swers–and my own imagination of a withered leaf–at dawn–
Dreaming back thru life, Your time–and mine accelerating toward Apoca-
the final moment–the flower burning in the Day–and what comes after,
looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city
a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom
  Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed–
like a poem in the dark–escaped back to Oblivion–
No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream,
  trapped in its disappearance,
sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worship-
  ping each other,
worshipping the God included in it all–longing or inevitability?–while it
  lasts, a Vision–anything more?
It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder,
  Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shoul-
  dering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant–and
  the sky above–an old blue place.
or down the Avenue to the south, to–as I walk toward the Lower East Side
  –where you walked 50 years ago, little girl–from Russia, eating the
  first poisonous tomatoes of America frightened on the dock
then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?–toward
toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice
  cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards–
Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school,
  and learning to be mad, in a dream–what is this life?
Toward the Key in the window–and the great Key lays its head of light
  on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the
  sidewalk–in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward
  the Yiddish Theater–and the place of poverty
you knew, and I know, but without caring now–Strange to have moved
  thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again,
with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstops doors and dark boys on
  the street, firs escapes old as you
–Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me–
Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe–and I guess that dies with
  us–enough to cancel all that comes–What came is gone forever
  every time–
That’s good!  That leaves it open for no regret–no fear radiators, lacklove,
  torture even toothache in the end–
Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul–and the lamb, the soul,
  in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger–hair
  and teeth–and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin,
  braintricked Implacability.
Ai! ai!  we do worse! We are in a fix!  And you’re out, Death let you out,
  Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with
  God, done with the path thru it–Done with yourself at last–Pure
  –Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all–before the
There, rest.  No more suffering for you.  I know where you’ve gone, it’s good.
No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more
  fear of Louis,
and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts,
  loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands–
No more of sister Elanor,–she gone before you–we kept it secret you
  killed her–or she killed herself to bear with you–an arthritic heart
  –But Death’s killed you both–No matter–
Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and
  weeks–forgetting, agrieve watching Marie Dressler address human-
  ity, Chaplin dance in youth,
or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin’s at the Met, halling his voice of a weeping Czar
  –by standing room with Elanor & Max–watching also the Capital
  ists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds,
with the YPSL’s hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts
  pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and
  laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920
all girls grown old, or dead now, and that long hair in the grave–lucky to
  have husbands later–
You made it–I came too–Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and
  will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer–or kill
  –later perhaps–soon he will think–)
And it’s the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now
  –tho not you
I didn’t foresee what you felt–what more hideous gape of bad mouth came
  first–to you–and were you prepared?
To go where?  In that Dark–that–in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the
  Void?  Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream?  Adonoi at last, with
Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull
  in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon–Deaths-
  head with Halo?  can you believe it?
Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence,
  than none ever was?
Nothing beyond what we have–what you had–that so pitiful–yet Tri-
to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower–fed to the
  ground–but made, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe,
  shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth
  wrapped, sore–freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless.
No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the
Cut down by an idiot Snowman’s icy–even in the Spring–strange ghost
  thought some–Death–Sharp icicle in his hand–crowned with old
  roses–a dog for his eyes–cock of a sweatshop–heart of electric
All the accumulations of life, that wear us out–clocks, bodies, consciousness,
  shoes, breasts–begotten sons–your Communism–‘Paranoia’ into
You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later.  You of
  stroke.  Asleep?  within a year, the two of you, sisters in death.  Is
  Elanor happy?
Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over
  midnight Accountings, not sure.  His life passes–as he sees–and
  what does he doubt now?  Still dream of making money, or that might
  have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Im-
  mortality, Naomi?
I’ll see him soon.  Now I’ve got to cut through to talk to you as I didn’t
  when you had a mouth.
Forever.  And we’re bound for that, Forever like Emily Dickinson’s horses
  –headed to the End.
They know the way–These Steeds–run faster than we think–it’s our own
  life they cross–and take with them.

  Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, mar-
ried dreamed, mortal changed–Ass and face done with murder.
  In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under
pine, almed in Earth, blamed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
  Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless,
Father in death.  Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m
hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
  Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not
light or darkness, Dayless Eternity–
  Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some
of my Time, now given to Nothing–to praise Thee–But Death
  This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Won-
derer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping
–page beyond Psalm–Last change of mine and Naomi–to God’s perfect
Darkness–Death, stay thy phantoms!

–Allen Ginsberg, “Kaddish, Pt. 1″  1961


A/N: This fic just kinda poked at me one night while listening to some tropical tunes. I got to thinking how funny it would be if Inuyasha unluckily found himself in charge of navigating Kagome on the open sea in search for her pod of whales. 2300 words. (Unedited, but will edit soon!)

“You’ll never get the mast up that way.”

Kagome twisted around with an arched eyebrow, surveying the area for the location of the voice. But there was nothing but the gentle crash of waves on the dock, and the black beady eyes of a seagull staring back at her as he stood in wait for scraps on a stained wooden beam. (Which, joke’s on him because she didn’t have money for any snacks today.)

“Over here.”

She moved her head to the right and sure enough there was a man; looking at her with a mix of confusion and…disdain? She blinked twice and then righted herself, trying to place if she knew him or not, (trying to not be distracted by the tanned sleeveless arms crossing his chest).

No certainly not, she’d recognize that silvery white hair (and impressive frown) anywhere for sure if that were the case. There’s no way she’d forget him so easily.  

“I’m sorry do I know you from…?” She hedged, waiting for the man to confirm they were strangers. But then his expression evolved quickly into unexpected disappointment and she worried her bottom lip, second guessing herself.

“No, guess not.” He shrugged almost like he had given up on a very daunting task, then pivoted on his foot to start briskly walking towards a tiny slop of a bar at the end of the boardwalk. Kagome tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, only to have it fall back into her eyes.  

“Wait, what were you trying to say?”

He stopped and glanced back with pricked ears.

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Wake Up Make Up

Summary: Dean and the reader aren’t together, as much as she wishes that they were. But can one embarrassing morning change everything?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: Swearing, sexual innuendos, implied sexy times, fighting (just verbal), I think that’s it.

Word Count: 2712


Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector

Reader’s POV

“Y/N? Y/N, sweetheart, time to wake up.”
Groaning, I pulled my covers over my head in protest. “Nome. It’s not. It’s time to sleep,” I mumbled out, barely comprehendible, as my face was buried in the pillows. Hands pulled at my sides, and I fought feebly against them. Dean sighed heavily.
Exasperated, he finally gave up when he realized that I wasn’t giving away my warm and comfy abode that easy. “I’m serious. You need to get your lazy ass out of bed already. I’m bored and it’s almost noon,” he almost whined, hands retreating.
My muffled grumping was the only answer he got. I had meant to say something along the lines of, “Leave me alone, unless you have something better to offer than this bed.” but it came out as more, “Lea’ meh ‘lone, unleff 'ou 'ave somefing bettah to offah.” And then I decided to just keep it at that, because I didn’t trust myself with any other words without screwing them up just as bad.
The bed dipped slightly beside me, but I didn’t bother telling him to get the hell off. My hand went flying haphazardly and collided lightly and unfortunately harmlessly against what I think was Dean’s bicep. He snorted at my pathetic attempt at warding him away. “Y/N, c'mon, you’re being ridiculous. Get up before I make you!” It was probably supposed to be a threat, but I didn’t see any reason that the very attractive Dean Winchester carrying me everywhere would be a particularly bad thing.
Nevertheless, staying tucked in my covers is a lot more attractive than Dean at the moment. Making a disgruntled sound, I grabbed the pillow from beside me and put it over my head, hoping that he would get the message that I wouldn’t get up if the Bunker were on fire.
A huff filled the room, and the weight disappeared from the end of the bed. My body sagged into the mattress in relief. “Whatever,” he scoffed, and I probably should’ve paid more attention to the smirk creeping into his tone, but I was way too tired. “I guess hard way it is.”
A whoosh of air hit my bare legs as they were exposed to the unforgiving cold. It had only just registered in my mind that he had ripped the covers off of me-the bastard-when the sound of them dropping to the floor hit my ears. Turning my head to chastise him for taking away my beautiful escape, I blinked away the blurriness in my vision. The words died in my throat as I realized that he had just stopped. I couldn’t quite make out his face, but I knew that the smirk wasn’t there anymore.
“What?!” I finally snapped when Dean’s silhouette hadn’t moved for a while and he hadn’t said anything. Was five minutes a new record for him? Honestly, I would be surprised if it weren’t. And that was the exact moment I realized why he hadn’t said a single word.
Last night, it was hot and stuffy as hell in my bedroom, but I really liked the feel of fabric on my newly shaved legs. So instead of suffering through my pants, I had-
My face went white.
Shit, I’m clad in only my lacy underwear and Dean Winchester is staring at me. In different circumstances, maybe, I would’ve made a move. But I was so goddamn embarrassed that the first words out of my mouth were kind of a strangled gasp of, “Get out!”
He was quick to listen and obey, closing the door behind him.
Oh, God, I can never leave my room again. That was way too damn embarrassing. Dean’s going to harass me about it for the next six months at the very least.
Resigned to never letting either of the boys see me ever again, I shoved on sweatpants and a flannel that one of the boys had outgrown. Grabbing the remote to my TV (yes, it was bought with money from hustling, so sue me), I turned on Netflix, scrolling through all of the shows with bored eyes. Seriously, would it kill them to put a good show on here every once in a while?
As I rewatched Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt for the umpteenth time, all I could think about was how much I wanted ice cream. The blush rose on my cheeks again as I remembered the last time I had watched the series. It had been with Dean, actually. In the black hole between a wendigo case and demon sighting, I had pulled him into my room, demanding that he never look away from the television. I can still remember his exact expression, and his muscular arm slowly encircling my waist and pulling me into his side, and his scent. God, his scent.
Okay, I am going to need that ice cream to cool me down.
Sighing, I paused the show and stood, stretching my arms above my head. As I caught my own eyes in the mirror, I snorted. I remind myself of a cat. Sleep, eat, laze around, sleep some more, stretch like you’re about to do a marathon, and then eat some more.
Please, the only marathon I’m going to be doing is a movie marathon.
I was mulling over the movies on Netflix and trying to arrange a schedule in my head when I froze in the kitchen doorway.
This is exactly why I had been on room lockdown. God, ice cream made me into such an idiot!
Hoping that he didn’t see me, I turned on my heel and started back toward my room. I didn’t make it half a step before his hand was around my elbow, making me flinch. Great, now I’ve been caught.
Next step: Time to move out.
“Hey,” he greeted, flashing a little smile, and I knew that it was coming. That taunting, the jokes, the innuendos. The rest of my life is going to be a living hell. I think I should skip straight to moving out of the country. France sounds awesome. I’ve always wanted to go. But my police record would be a big no-no. His gravelly voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “I’m… um… I’m sorry about earlier. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Is he… Is he blushing? No, he couldn’t be.
Because he’s Dean freaking Winchester and he has no reason to be bashful. He’s been in more girl’s pants than I had, which was concerning since he was a dude and I was a chick. In two completely different ways, but still.
I forced a smile that probably looked a little more like a grimace onto my face. “It’s okay. If I had remembered, this morning would’ve gone way differently,” I assured, so wishing that the floor would open up and swallow me.
Dean quirked an eyebrow, and my mind was immediately racing for what I had let slip. “'Differently’ how?” he asked, his eyebrows now wiggling suggestively. I hit his arm with a laugh. God, was anything ever gonna be the same? All I could think about even in this simple interaction was that morning, and I had barely been here for thirty seconds.
Not answering his question, I jumped into another topic, trying to distract him from making one of his idiotic (yet admittedly witty) jokes. “What’re you up to?” I said, a bit too quickly to be casual, but he let it slip. Thank the Lord.
He crossed over to the kitchen counter as he responded, and I would’ve run back to my room had my feet not been planted to the floor. I couldn’t make my legs work. “I was working on Baby.” Of course he was. Baby meant everything to him. Dean grabbed a red towel from the sink and rubbed the grease from the nooks and crannies of his rough hands. “Is that my flannel?”
And, like the complete imbecile that I was, I looked down at it, bewildered. I knew that Dean saw it even before I heard his light laughter.
Why do my legs fail me now?
“I guess so,” I finally murmured, playing with the hem of it nervously as Dean laughed away. “You can have it back, if you want. I don’t think it fits you anymore, though.”
I caught it before Dean did. Perfect opportunity for him to throw in his two cents, of course.
Of freaking course.
The smug smirk on his face made me want to either lock myself in my room for the rest of eternity or for a black hole to suddenly appear in my pocket. I hadn’t decided yet. “Oh, I’ll take it back, sweetheart. It’ll be on my floor, along with the rest of your clothes.” He finished it with a wink that had me stuttering even in my thoughts.
Is he… Is he flirting with me?
No. No way. Dean would never do that. He wants to keep it professional. Just friends, hunting buddies.
Don’t be an idiot. That’s Sam, not Dean. Dean would definitely do something like this.
So, wait. Did that mean he was flirting with me because he actually liked me, or to mess with my head? Or was it just a habit that he couldn’t turn off?
His eyes were fixed on the floor by his feet when I was finally able to shake the thoughts off. “I was… uh… just kidding. You can keep the flannel. You wear it better anyway,” he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But those lace panties, sweetheart. Those would complete the look. I don’t even care if you keep them on.”
Jesus holy mother of God.
He is definitely intentionally flirting. The only question going through my mind now is 'what the hell do I do?’, and it was circling through my head a million miles per hour. I’m sure that I was sporting a deer in headlights look, but my brain was too busy puzzling over that one question.
A forced laugh met my ears, jolting me out of my trance. Dean pushed himself away from the counter, tossing the red towel over his shoulder and into the sink. “I get the message, sweetheart, don’t worry. You don’t have to say anything. I’m just gonna, um, go.” He was out of the room before the words had even fully struck home.
No way. Dean would never like me. I wasn’t his type. But then why had he dashed out with his head down and tail between his legs like a sixth grader who had been rejected by his crush?
I figured that there was only one person who knew Dean better than I did, and thankfully, he was right down the hall. He answered on the second knock, hair ruffled as if he had been sleeping. I instantly felt bad about waking him up, because he needs all the sleep he needs, but I couldn’t undo it.
A smile eased onto my face. “Hey, Sam. Sorry to wake you.”
The giant returned it groggily. “No problem. I wasn’t sleeping very well anyway.” It was only then that I really looked at him, noticing the sweat along his forehead and circles under his eyes.
I am a terrible friend.
“I need to talk to you,” I whispered, in case Dean had decided to run in and grab something from his room or was listening. Sam furrowed his eyebrows, but beckoned me into his room nevertheless. Before the door was even fully closed, the question that had been bouncing around my head so insistently that it almost hurt flew out. “Does Dean like me?”
Sam closed the door and leveled his eyes with mine. They lit up after a moment, and he reached forward to ruffle my hair. I immediately ducked out of the way, trying to fix my hair and failing miserably. So, I was pretty shocked when Sam spoke up. “Thank God you finally figured it out. I was seriously about to hire a cupid. I’m happy for you. Now get out, I want some sleep. Please. I’d love to help you ask him out, or whatever, but these trials are kicking my ass.”
Giving him an understanding smile, even though a million more questions were attacking my mind, I headed out. Just before the door closed fully, I heard him murmur, “See you later, small fry.”
Grin now just about splitting my face in two, I went in search of Dean. I didn’t have to look far. He was in the library, holding an ice pack to his head and nursing a beer. I could tell that something was off by the set of his shoulders. He was keeping something in, again. Not that surprising, but I couldn’t think of what it was this time.
Focusing on the task at hand, I crossed the room to him with a skip in my step. “Hiya,” I chirped happily.
The only response I got was a fierce glare. My heartbeat accelerated. Why is Dean so freaking bipolar today? “Something you want to tell me?” he pressed coolly. A shiver ran the length of my spine.
He knew. So why was he so angry about it? According to Sam, Dean liked me back. But by the look on his face, he looked like he didn’t want to be on the same continent as me. My confidence shriveled. “Not now,” I responded, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded in those little words.
The chair beneath Dean toppled to the floor as he stood, getting up in my face as I flinched away. “Oh yeah? You don’t want to confess fucking with my feelings, huh? Or how about using Sam for your own pleasure when he’s at his lowest?! What kind of messed up fuck are you?” Dean roared as confusion swirled in my mind.
What is he on about?
Everything clicked into place when I thought it through a bit more. Dean must’ve come in to get his beer and ice pack while I was in Sam’s room. He wasn’t around when I went in, I know that for sure. So maybe he saw me come out? But then why had he jumped to the conclusion that I had used Sam for sex? My brain made itself useful by throwing out the memory of Sam ruffling my hair, and how the flannel was off my shoulder because of his playful behavior.
Dean’s shoulders were still shaking with rage by the time I was able to string together a response. But my planned words didn’t come out of my mouth. Instead, my body lurched forward and my mouth clashed to Dean’s. It was clumsy, and unexperienced, and so wonderfully candid. He was kissing back before I knew that I had just smashed my lips to the ones I’d spent so much time fantasizing about.
I explained it to him later, as we were watching Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt after some truly mindblowing sex. We laughed together at how blind we had been, how Dean had originally come in from the garage because he had whacked his head on Baby’s hood really hard, and how Sam had called me Small Fry and kicked me out of his room because his sleep was more important than my relationship status.
“I really hope you know that I really liked those lace underwear. And you’re buying new ones for me, you lazy slug.” Dean threw his head back in laughter once again at my lame insult.
“Nah, you love me too much. Besides, you might forget if I never let you leave this room again.” The blush rising to the occasion was necessary, of course.
But the banging at the door most certainly was not. “Guys, throw some clothes on. I found a case.”
Dean groaned at his brother’s voice and buried his face in my collarbone. “Seriously? C'mon, man,” he whined.
“I really love you, you know,” I whispered down at him, a bit surprised that the words had popped out.
Dean smiled back at me. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Always have, always will. But I will love you a lot more if your underwear drawer is completely made up of lace.”
That one earned him a smack, alright.

Devotion - Chapter Six

Summary:  Dan is a ballerina who’s practicing for an audition at Julliard, but he’s afraid of performing in front of other people. He meets Phil, who’s gathering photos for his art portfolio, and Phil helps Dan come out of his shell

Genre: fluff mostly

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.1k

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

The ideal morning for Dan would be waking up slowly to sunlight filtering through the blinds of Phil’s bedroom with Dan wrapped up in Phil’s arms in a comfy king-sized bed with soft cotton sheets and a big fluffy duvet. Phil would wake up as Dan did and they would kiss each other good morning and lay next to each other for as long as they wanted. Unfortunately for Dan, that was nearly the opposite of what happened.

Dan woke up to a jarring alarm coming from Phil’s phone while lying on the edge of Phil’s kind of uncomfortable full-sized bed. Phil was stretched across the majority of the bed, leaving Dan a suitable amount of space for a newborn baby. Instead of turning off his alarm, Phil only rolled over and groaned, not even opening his eyes. Dan huffed and curled the pillow over his head to cover his ears and kicked Phil to wake him up.

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Familiarity (Newt Scamander)

Pairing: Newt Scamander/Reader
Words: 1500
Warning(s): Some angst but fluff
A/N: bOI I FINISHED THIS AT EXACTLY 2:26 AM I AM RUNNING ON FUEMS SORRY THE ENDING IS BAD IT S TARTED OFF DECENt. i needed to be up at seven rip my fuckin soul. AlLSO i know i said i started my haitus but this will be the last fic i write for a week,,,
Request:  Got a Newt Scamander/reader insert request for you, if you’d like! So, plenty of people are doing imagines where the reader is a no-maj and has to be obliviated (MUCH ANGST)… Would you mind giving us a happy ending to that scenario? Maybe the reader regains her memories or there’s a chance for her to fall in love with Newt all over again? Thank you! <3

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I know I can’t apologize enough for how long it took me to write this. I know it’s been months and I’m the worst person ever but it’s finally here. If you haven’t read the other chapters or forgot what happened because it’s been ages since you read it they can be found on my masterlist. I apologize for any sloppy parts or any mistakes. Please forgive me for being so

Chapter four

When Harry heard the doorbell ring at 8 o'clock in the morning he couldn’t help but groan and turn around with a annoyed frown on his face. When it rung again he opened his eyes and released a defeated sigh. He knew Gemma wasn’t home, not until tonight because she was visiting a good friend up in Newcastle. Seemed like he had to get up.
He put on a old grey shirt that had tiny holes and ripped spots but it was comfy and he just couldn’t throw it away. He jogged down the stairs, shouting “Coming!” when the person behind the door pressed down on the doorbell again.
He opened the door and his eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw who it was.
“Oh, Harry. Goodness, did I wake you?”
Her voice was panicked, as were her eyes, scanning his half naked body.
“Good morning to you too, love.” he chuckled nervously.
“Good morning.” she breathed with a smile.
“S'okay by the way. It’s actually good that you woke me up, would have slept until noon otherwise.”
“Alright. Uh, well… I’ve got a date with Gemma.”
She was nervous. He noticed it the moment she lied her eyes on him. Her voice was quivering and her eyes were darting around, never finding a place to look at longer than a second.
“Well, Gemma is not here. She is visiting a friend in Newcastle and will be back tonight.“
“Oh. Wait… Today is Sunday, right?”
“Saturday, love.” he smiled softly at her.
“Oh. Oh, goodness I’m so stupid. Sorry, I-I’ll go now. Sorry for waking you. I’m sorry.”
She turned around quicker than Harry could react, walking to her car that was parked in the driveway.
“Wait!” he called before she could open her car door.
She turned around slowly and looked at him with a questioning look.
“Did you already have breakfast?”
She shook her head no. Harry sent her a smile, opened the door and motioned for her to come in.
“Harry, you really don’t have to. I mean-”
“I want to. C'mon now.”
She hesitated a bit before she nodded and stepped into the apartment.
“I’m quickly going to change, yeah? I’ll be right back.”
She was going crazy. And she didn’t know why. But ever since that moment a few days ago something was different.
She was thinking about him. Often. In the most random situations.
She was making coffee and for some reason she thought about him.
She was removing her makeup and then he crossed her mind.
She blamed it on that one moment they had. She found him cute before that but now she found him… appealing?
They connected, she felt it. The fact that he knew how she felt was strange because whenever she told somebody about it they looked at her confused but Harry… he understood.
Ever since that moment she thought about the other things that happened too, like the moment he caught her when she almost fell down. Or the moment when she aimed to kiss his cheek but landed on the corner of his mouth.
She wondered how it would feel to have his lips pressed against-
“Alright, m'ready.”
She looked at him dumbfounded for a moment, her thoughts clearly distracting her. Her eyes wandered from his mesmerizing eyes to his raspberry lips which looked so damn soft and so kissable and-
“You okay, love?” he asked concerned.
“W-What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.” she stammered.
He nodded and made his way through the hallway over to the kitchen, turning around when he didn’t hear her walking behind him.
“You coming?”
“Uhh, yeah.”
She shook her head as if she was trying to shake those thoughts out of her head. It didn’t work.
“Okay, so I thought I’d make some pancakes? With yogurt and fruit on it? How’s that sound for you?”
“Sounds amazing.”


He finished breakfast within twenty minutes, serving her the most delicious food someone could imagine. She was amazed how good it all tasted, the pancakes were the best she ever had and the scrambled eggs were absolutely perfect as well.
Their conversation was great too. They were talking about their families, their jobs and they were… getting to know each other.
During all this time both of their hearts were beating faster than normal. It felt like a date. A real, proper date. A amazing date.
“Harry, that was absolutely amazing.” she sighed contently when they both finished eating.
“Yeah? I’m glad you liked it. Gemma always says my scrambled eggs are too salty.”
“No it was absolutely perfect.” she reassured him.
They smiled at each other for a moment before Harry got up and collected the dishes, Y/N quickly getting up and helping him.
“You don’t have to help, love. S'okay.”
“Nope. No way am I going to let you do the dishes alone after you already prepared the most delicious breakfast in my whole life for me.”
Harry chuckled and let her, telling her to put them in the dishwasher.
It felt to be like that with her. It felt like this was a everyday action that they always did together. Like they were together.
In a way they connected even more during the time they spent. There was something between them that they both couldn’t quite pinpoint or describe. They were like two magnets. There was a pull between them.
When they finished putting away the dishes they stood in the middle of Gemmas kitchen, both not really knowing what to say and both not wanting Y/N to leave.
“Well, I guess I’m going to leave now. Disturbed you enough, haven’t I?” she chuckled nervously.
“You haven’t disturbed me at all, love. Was nice to have breakfast with you.” he sent her a gentle smile.
She looked at him for another few seconds before she took a step forward and engulfed him in a tight hug. Harry released a surprised ‘oh’ when her body crashed against his but wrapped his arms around her immediately. When she felt him hugging her back she pulled him even tighter to her, her face nuzzling into his neck and her nose inhaling his scent that was making her feel dizzy. His hands stroked over her back in slow circles, squeezing her tighter towards his chest every few seconds. His face was nuzzled into her neck as well, the scent of her hair mixed with her cologne was almost overwhelming.
After a two way too short minutes she pulled back, very slowly and Harry almost thought she wanted to kiss him when she stopped with her face right before his face and her eyes wandered to his lips. She didn’t though.
She pulled back completely and when she realized what just happened her eyes widened with shock and her cheeks turned pink.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. Shit, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to-. I’ll just leave now. Thank you for the breakfast.”
She left and slammed the door shut before Harry could react. He stood there in the middle of his sisters kitchen completely dumbfounded. He heard her shouting ‘fuck’ from outside, which finally snapped him out of his trance.
Fuck, indeed.
She hugged him.
But it wasn’t a normal ‘thank you for the breakfast, I’ll leave now hug’.
It was a proper squeezing each other and being as close as possible hug.
He still felt the ghost of her arms around him and her lips on his shoulder and how they were pressed to his skin there, not in a kiss but simply squeezed against his skin because she was so close.
Harry knew in that moment he fell for her. He was completely in love with her.
It couldn’t be anything else but love.
He’s never been in love before but he was sure this was what it felt like.
He never felt this way before. Never did he meet a girl that took away his breath the first time he saw her. Never before did he feel butterflies erupting in his stomach when a girl kissed his cheek. Never before did he enjoy talking to a girl as much as he did with Y/N. Never before did he open up to a girl so quickly. And never before did he connect with a girl before.
But with Y/N everything felt different. She was like a breath of fresh air. Like sunshine after years of darkness.
She was the girl he subconsciously wrote every song about. She was the girl he never thought he’d find.
And when she hugged him he felt something change between them. Like something snapped in place.
He knew she felt it too. He saw how she looked at his lips. He felt how tightly she held on to him. And for a moment he allowed himself to think she felt the same when she saw him.


The next morning he hoped to wake up to Y/N ringing the doorbell again but it didn’t happen. He stood up with a sigh, getting ready in the bathroom and putting his running clothes on. He needed a good run to clear his mind.
He went downstairs, making his way to the kitchen but stopping dead in his tracks when he saw her shoes and her jacket at the front door.
She had a date with Gemma today.
He gulped before he took a deep breath and walked towards the kitchen where he knew she would be.
“Good morning.“ he said when he entered the kitchen.
“Good morning.” they both replied.
He sent Y/N a soft smile, her cheeks turning lightly pink.
He walked over to where his sister was preparing some tee, kissing her cheek when she handed him a mug.Y/N almost melted at the loving gesture.
“You’re going for a frown again?” Gemma asked him with a frown.
“Um, yeah.” he nodded and took a sip from his tea.
“Everything okay?”
He nodded again, not looking at her because he knew that she looked right through him.
Harry usually never went for runs.
Only when he needs distraction.
Most of the time distraction from a girl.
“That girl?”
Y/N almost chocked on the food she had in her mouth. Girl? He had a girl?
Harry glared at her sister before he sighed. There was no point in lying. Gemma would ask him until he would spill everything.
“Yeah.” he admitted.
“Did you meet her again?”
He dared a quick side glance at Y/N but she didn’t seem to care about their conversation at all. But she did.
“Yeah.” he repeated.
“And?” Gemma pressed.
“Gemma.” he breathed annoyed.
“C'mon, tell me. Something must have happened or else you wouldn’t do that thing again and go for a run. I know why you do that, you know. So, tell me.”
“Yes, I met her and yes, something happened. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
She looked at him for a few moments before she nodded.
“You’ve got a moment though, right? Y/N uploaded a new article.”
“Gemma, he really doesn’t have to read it, I mean-”
“It’s fine, love. I want to read it.”
She gave him a nervous smile and nodded. Gemma gave him her phone where Y/N’s article was opened.

Die Liebe geht durch den Magen.
As a german turn of speech says food can make you fall in love with somebody. The exact translation would be ‘love goes through the stomach.’ And it’s true. A man who can cook is incredibly attractive and sexy. I don’t think any girl out there could deny the fact that a cooking man is the sexiest thing ever.

He looked at Y/N and saw her blushing and biting her bottom lip. The article was about him.
He quickly overflew the next few lines until he came across what he was looking for.

A man who can cook can quickly make a girl loose her mind. It can quickly make her feel something she hasn’t felt before. It can quickly make her fall in love with a man. There’s something special about a man cooking for a woman. It’s flattering and amazing and you know that if a man cooks for you, you’re special to him. But a woman should do something for her man too, right? Of course a nice thank you is enough but a bit a physical thank you is great too, right?

He stopped reading after that, looking at Y/N again.
“Yeah, right? I asked her the whole time who that ‘sexy’ and ‘amazing’ man is who cooked for her but she won’t tell me.”
Harry looked from his sister to Y/N and cleared his throat before he placed Gemma’s phone down on the kitchen table.
“I’m going to go now.”
He turned to leave the kitchen but Y/N’s voice stopped him.
“Harry?” she asked and stood up.
“Yes, love?”
“C-Could we maybe talk for a minute?”
“Um, yeah. Of course.”
They left the kitchen to get some privacy and sat down in the living room across from each other.
“I’m very sorry for what happened yesterday. I didn’t mean to be so… affectionate I guess.”
“Everything’s okay, love. There’s nothing to apologize for, yeah? It was actually one of the greatest hugs I ever shared with someone.” he grinned at her.
She chuckled and shook her head.
“Um… I hope your girlfriend isn’t mad.”
“What girlfriend?”
“You said to Gemma there was a girl?”
“Oh. Um… well, that girl isn’t interested.”
“No? How could any girl in her right mind bot be interested in you?”
“Well, I’m not as great as people make me out to be.” he smirked sadly.
Y/N looked at him for a few moments before she reached out and took one of his hands in hers, her thumb gently stroking over his knuckles.
“I think you’re great.”

catastrophic affairs, truly (chapter two)

ch 1 /  on ao3

hi everyone im back with chapter 2 & im sorry mari’s pov is short but later chapters will probably just be 1 pov(and longer)? like i originally wrote all of them with 2 povs and therefore 2 parts but i think im gonna split them after this. just watch the chapter titles bc they’ll tell you what chapter we’re on. ANYWAYS enjoy :D

part a

It takes approximately 10 seconds for Chat to show up at Marinette’s balcony after she de-transforms. She only has time to dust off her shirt before she hears him yell her name from 30 yards away, crash land on the roof, and perform a barrel roll. Show-off.

“Hey, Chat. Aren’t you supposed to be doing your superhero duties? Where’s Ladybug?” Chat (still lying on the ground after the barrel roll) groans at the sound of her name.

“I’m sure she’s taking care of it by herself. It’s noon on a Friday, the biggest problem right now are children that are upset because they can’t sleepover at their friend’s houses this weekend or something like that. Anyways, I just got myself into the biggest mess with her and I know this sounds really strange and sketchy considering I don’t know you that well, but I need your help.” Marinette tries to act as confused as possible.

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anonymous asked:

Can you do a reaction where Hancock and f!ss are in a settlement and one of the settlers try and kill Hancock thinking he is a feral? Like what would happen, how would Sole and Hancock react? Thank you <3

Here you go Nonnie, I hope this is what you were after. Enjoy <3

Sole loved travelling with Hancock. He may seem like all he was good for was taking Chems, but he is actually a good guy. He made her laugh when she was down thinking about Nate and Shaun, and he would always put himself in front of her whenever they were being attacked, whether it be by a couple of ghouls or a group of raiders.

Several months ago Hancock had helped Sole clear out the ghouls and do up Sunshine Tidings Co-op ready for settlers to move into the new minutemen location. They had set up twenty beds, started building defencing and planting crops, and had placed a recruitment satellite. Once the first three settlers had moved in- and Sole was happy the trio were able to properly defend themselves- Hancock and Sole had left, promising them they would return in the nearby future.

The settlement had grown larger in the upcoming months, and Preston had politely asked Sole if she could go and check up on the settlement, and see if the settlers were all okay with their living conditions. Sole had eagerly agreed, wanting to know how the settlement had grown and developed since they had left. Hancock volunteering himself- even though he didn’t need to- to go with Sole for the journey, and the pair had set off before the sun had risen in the morning.

The trip southwards was quick- only taking half a day- and relatively easy, only a few mongrel dogs and feral ghouls to deal with on their way down. They arrived around noon, and Hancock was instantly met with a gun pointed in his direction, settlers shouting and screaming to one another, someone running over and setting off the alarm that sounded when the settlement came under attack.

In reply to the gun being pointed at Hancock’s face, the settler got Sole’s gun pointed directly at their heart. The settlement went silent- so silent you could have heard a pin drop.

“Gun down soldier” Sole called out to the settler with their gun raised (and the few others who had also risen their guns), her own gun still pointed in their direction. Once the gun’s had all been put down, she put her own gun down (but didn’t hollister it), and continued.

“Any reason you raised your gun and pointed it in the direction of the travelling companion of the General of the minutemen? The said minutemen whose settlement you are currently using as your own” Sole had a knack at being sarcastic when she really wanted to be.

“No- n-no ma’am” The settler replied, but at the look in Sole’s eyes continued, trying not to stutter. “I th-thought that it wa-was a fer-feral ma’am”

“And just how many ferals do you come across that are dressed like John Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbour whilst holed up here in this settlement” She replied, voice loud and clear, ensuring that every settler was able to hear her.

“N-none ma’am” The settler replied, shuffling from foot to foot, clearly hating the attention on him.

“Exactly” Sole stared around the settlement, and it quickly became clear that there weren’t a ghoul in sight, which was highly suspicious as ghouls were welcome in every one of Sole’s settlements.

“Where are the ghouls that live here?” She asked, looking to each and every settler and only seeing shame across their faces. No-one spoke up, and Sole repeated her question.

“We don’t accept them General” A young woman muttered from somewhere up back, and Hancock watched as Sole’s face began turning a strange shade of red.

“Under whose order?” Silence. Repeated question.

“We don’t want them turning feral and hurting anyone, so we choose to turn them away peacefully.”

“And by peacefully I’m guessing you mean pointing a gun at their head whilst stood atop a guard post.” Sole shook her head, hair flicking across face, before continuing. “None of you have any rights to make that decision. This is a minutemen settlement, and in all minutemen settlements ALL are welcome, even ghouls. If you do not want to be here living alongside people in the same position that you are in- trying to survive day by day- then you are more than welcome to leave. If I hear of any more settlers turned away, you will all be removed from the facility. Do I make myself clear?” Murmurs of yeses echoed the grounds, before Sole dismissed everyone.

She turned to Hancock, and placed one of her small hands on his shoulder.

“Are you okay John?”

Hancock was more that okay. Watching Sole defend him and hearing Sole say that about the ghouls had made his heart swell. No normal smoothskin within the ‘Wealths would happily stick up for ghouls like that- and no smoothskin would get that reaction either. He was proud of her for sticking to her guns. He loved her.

Whoa, where did that come from, Hancock asked himself. Definitely not love.

He looked over at Sole’s questioning gaze.

Okay, maybe love.

Mr. & Mrs. Bond: Honeymoon

 Luke Hemmings ➳ secret agent!au

Originally posted by hexzell

Luke winced as he felt the silver bullet grazing his skin, swinging his arm back to shoot the man. The bullet had merely left a scratch at his skin (and an unfortunate hole in his Armani suit), but he still turned and glared at the smaller woman crouching next to him, unafraid of the dirt and dust piling upon her designer dress.

“I would have put a bullet through your skull by now if I wasn’t so endeared,” he seethed, ducking his head once again behind the broken marble pillar, turning back to fire, hitting his opponent right where the heart is supposed to be.

The woman looked at him, the corner of her red-stained lips turning up, before she brought her soft hands to caress his cheek.

“Oh love, so fond today,” she mutters softly to him, reaching for a grenade strapped to her thigh and throwing it behind her, rubble raining over their heads seconds later.

Their breathing was heavy and Luke’s chest heaved, coughing out the ash and dust that entered his lungs. No movement was heard behind the fallen marble pillar that they had used as a barrier between them and their enemies.

y/n stood up, dusting her skirt and fixing her hair, throwing her hair over her shoulder and standing straight, throwing her weapons to the ground. 

“Great way to start the rest of our lives, huh?” Luke mused, bringing the smaller girl to his front with his hand on her hip, her chin rested on his collarbone.

“You ruined your suit,” y/n pouted, probing the open skin visible by the hole in the suit jacket with a manicured finger.

Luke rolled his eyes, huffing away at a stray hair at his forehead, the faint echoes of sirens ringing in the distant, catching the duo’s attention. 

“We should probably report back to HQ,” he says, pressing his lips against y/n’s temple, tucking his gun into its holster hidden by his suit jacket.

“Mm, that’s too bad. I was looking forward to sightseeing in Milan,” she mumbles, walking ahead of him and stepping over a dead body in the way. 

“I think the heli’s taking us to the HQ in Madrid.”

“Ooh, I can do Spain.”

The couple rode up the elevator to the roof, where a helicopter was ready for lift off.

“So, Madrid?” y/n clarifies, once they’re both strapped in and the helicopter’s already taken off.



“Ah, Mr. Hemmings, glad you made it! Sorry for cutting your vacation short,” the tall, gray-haired man greets as Luke strides into the boardroom with a new suit and the confidence of a just-married man.

There are at least 10 people sitting at the oval table that takes up at least three-fourths of the boardroom, and all of them seem less ecstatic than the man standing in front of Luke as of currently.

Director Matteo was in charge of foreign relationships and sniper missions and often, he sent Luke to do his information gathering and disassembling various webs of secret networks.

Luke had been recruited by the MI6 just when he was 20 and out of college summer just before junior year, spending the rest of the years he’s supposed to be spending at tech school, training with the top spies and shooters at the academy. By 24, he was already out on the field, doing missions in Serbia, Moscow, Quebec, and Mumbai for the higher authorities. Clients from all over the world come asking for his assistance and expertise.

“What’s so important this time that I was taken from my cushiony honeymoon?” Luke questioned, throwing his feet up to rest on the table, causing the others in the boardroom to wince and clench their jaws at his nonchalance. He turned his head particularly to the man on his left, who was glaring daggers at him, and winked at him as he smirked, before panning his attention back to the Director who leaned forward against the oval table.

“We’ve been hacked recently,” the Director stated. Luke shrugged at him.

“Too vague for me to actually interfere.”

“The hackers have accessed and stolen our nuclear codes.”

This caused Luke’s hackles to raise and he narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“I’m sorry, you said nuclear plans?”

The boardroom seemed to silence, and the Director was having a staredown with Luke.

“We weren’t planning to use them for your information, Agent, now please let me explain.”

Luke huffed and crossed his arms but stood down nonetheless.

“There was a technological signature left behind and this is where you come in, Agent.”

The blonde agent hummed in response, rapping his knuckles in boredom against the wooden table.

“You remember the crime syndicate you dealt with on your Leeds mission three years ago, correct?”

“The Apollo clan, yes.”

“Turns out they have a sub-network.”

A growl emitted from the back of Luke’s throat. The Apollo wipeout mission was a success and Luke and his fellow agent counterparts made sure that nothing was left of the crime network.

It was also the mission where Luke first met his wife.

“And you want me to disassemble it?” Luke countered.

“Yes, but this sub-network somehow has a larger web and I guess they’ve been under our radar as they have been committing their crimes using separate benefactors.”

“Like a blacklist, or?”

“Something of the sort.”

The other higher members sitting at the table started putting in their input and pitching in plans, which Luke ignored until the woman sitting across from Luke, Lady McKinnon, spoke to him.

“You will be partnered with our best agents alongside yourself and you will start your mission back in London to talk to the London tech agents, since it was the London HQ that got hacked,’ she told him, hands crossed in front of her on the table as she stared hard at him.

Luke turned away and rose an eyebrow at the Director.

“Are you in?”

“On one condition,” Luke tilted his head and smirked, “Agent y/l/n comes with.”

The noise in the boardroom grew one hundred fold but Luke took no notice, as he stood up and fixed his suit jacket, coming to stand in front of the Director.

“We’ll get your accommodations in right away-”

“This mission is no place for a woman!”

Luke whipped his head around so fast he was pretty sure he got whiplash and shot lasers at the man who spoke with his eyes.

“This woman you speak of is one of the most highly ranked agents, alongside myself, in the academy, sir,” Luke seethed.

The man scoffs, waving his comment away.

“Pish posh, she just got to the top using her body-”

A serrated dagger wedges itself into the wall behind the man’s head, nearly cutting off his ear. The man freezes still as every head in the boardroom turns toward the shadowed figure at the doorway.

Luke smirks in pride, taking a few strides to end up at his woman’s side, his hand at her waist as she, too, smirks in pride, while she juggles another dagger in the air.

“Afternoon, gentlemen, Lady McKinnon,” y/n nods in Lady McKinnon’s direction, emitting a smile from the older woman as she was the agent’s mentor back in her academy days.

“By the way, I’m down. Send details by noon tomorrow,” the she-agent states, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “Thanks for your time, but I’m going to steal my husband now so carry on. Too-da-loo!”

Luke throws his head back in laughter as he’s dragged out of the boardroom by his equally dangerous wife.

The duo walk out of the building and into the Rolls Royce waiting for them.

“So, another mission, huh?” y/n asks, turning her knees towards Luke. He hums in confirmation, locking their lips in a soft kiss.

“You ready for this?”

y/n sends a sultry smirk his way, and tilts her head with hooded eyes, before cocking the handgun she pulled out from somewhere on her figure.
“When am I ever not?”

Incessant Infatuation

Synopsis: Fareeha has a crush on super cool big-kid Angela, and she goes to McCree of all people for help.

The midday sun cast its rays upon the desert field, sending shadows directly underneath the figures that owned them. Small reptiles crawled out of their hiding spots to bask in the sunlight, while many of the mammals refuge from the blazing heat in their burrows and holes. A small woodpecker started to cut out a hole in a thick Saguaro, hoping to create a shelter to reside in.


The percussive noise reverberated along the sand, echoing off rocks, being sent in every direction.

Another crack.

Jesse McCree looked down range at his target, and walked out towards the paper cutout for closer inspection. While two shots were fired, only one hole seemed to be made. It was not until the paper was in Jesse’s hands was the imperfection shown. A small crescent deviated from the original circumference, another circle offset by millimeters, with barely any paper to puncture. Jesse smirked and flicked the paper with his finger, letting out a puff of his cigar. “Not too bad for warming up” he said to himself, making his way back towards the shooting station. He set the paper target aside on the small wooden table beside him, and he picked up six fresh victims to set out in the range.

When all the cutouts were put on their posts, he situated himself at the station. He clicked the release mechanism to his revolver, flicking the cylinder open. As he tilted the revolver upwards, two casings dropped to the gravel below, smoke still gently rising from their entry points. This time, Jesse readied six rounds to be fired, carefully placing each one in its proper slot. With a smooth motion, he flipped the cylinder back up into the revolver, the locking mechanism snapping in place with a click.

He glanced down at his wrist before checking his surroundings to make sure he was alone. Seeing nobody nearby, he smirked and placed his revolver in his holster, keeping it unlatched. He bent his right arm, hand hovering over the pistol, his left arm in front, ready for rapid fire.

“It’s high noon” he let out in a low drawl.

The low wind picked up, sending a lone tumbleweed across the horizon. McCree lined up each target in his sights, composing himself. With a sudden motion, Jesse drew the weapon from its holster. “Draw!” He shot each target along the horizon in a swift motion, his left hand cocking the hammer in between each sequential fire. When it was done, Jesse flipped the revolver about his finger before swiftly placing it back in the holster. He surveyed the scene, all targets had a sizzling hole right through the skull. He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops, “Heh, not so bad”

His reverie was cut short.

“Ugh, Jesse. So lame” A giggle came from behind. McCree snapped around on his heel, and saw little Fareeha jump down from her perch. He suddenly became quite flustered, especially now that Fareeha had seen him. She always liked to give him grief for his self-indulgent grandeur, not to mention the BAMF buckle he liked to keep fastened around his waist.

“Fareeha! What are you doing here? You know your Mom would kill you if she found out you were at the gun range” McCree said, emptying the casings just as before, and swiveled the pistol back into its holster.                    

“Mmm is the ‘BAMF’ scared of momma?” Fareeha said with a sly smile, “It is just you and me after all, she doesn’t need to find out. Besides, I wanted to ask you something.”

Jesse sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to shake her loose until he paid the ransom. “Alright, what is it then?”

“You’re good with the ladies, right Jesse?”

McCree tugged at his collar awkwardly. No beating around the bush with this one. “I wouldn’t say the ladies per se.”

“Okay, fine. But you know how to sweet-talk them, right? I know you use that silver-tongue of yours to kiss mother’s ass, God help her.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “I guess if you put it that way. To be honest, though, this line of work doesn’t lend many opportunities to speak with many people outside of those in Overwatch. The only women I really know well besides my own mother are your Ma and Angela.”

At the latter’s name, Fareeha started shifted the sand around her feet, looking down the entire time. “What if I were to say that I wasn’t talking about anybody off-base?” Fareeha asked nervously.

Realization began to dawn on McCree, the corner of his lips turned upwards into a sly grin. “Heh heh, does little Fareeha Amari have her eyes set on a certain someone?”

Fareeha didn’t look up to meet McCree’s cheeky expression.

“A certain German lady, by chance?”

“Ugh, Jesse, she’s Swiss!” Uh oh. Now the cat was out of the bag. “I mean… no?” she said, trying to backpedal out of her previous statement, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.

McCree slapped his knee and let out a bought of laughter. He gave her a few teasing nudges with his elbow, while Fareeha tried to bat him away.

“Hah! A crush on Miss Angela Ziegler. I gotta say, kid, you have a mighty fine taste in women.” He said, not trying to fight down the grin that seemed to get broader and broader.

“…Shut up” Fareeha pleaded sheepishly, with heat rising to her cheeks.

“Heh” McCree grunted as his laughter started to subside. “So have you tried working the ol’ Amari charm?”

Fareeha shuffled her feet over one another. “I wouldn’t say that”

“Looks like we’ll need to fix that, then!” Jesse stood up and rotated his hat slightly. “Here, I got a few tricks up my sleeve…”

Angela nervously chewed on the cap to her pen, her foot bobbing up and down as her crossed legs moved about. She had already spent five hours tucked away in her cramped living quarters, trying to work on an article she had been drafting that dealt with the preliminary research in the usage of microscopic machines and how they could be used in the medical field. Juggling that and her responsibilities on base was proving to be a challenge, but it was something she found she could solve by holing herself up in her room. Not many people had access to Angela when she was busy with her workload, which to be fair was nearly every moment of her day. Being an unusually young age for her work, Angela was denied permission by Commander Morrison to look after her own patients. To keep herself busy in the times she wasn’t assisting the current medical director of Overwatch, she had taken to pouring through multitudes of published academic literature and research papers, hoping to gain some insight into the developing field of the nanobiology.

She heard the door creak, but she paid no mind to it. She was intent to carry on with her research, and didn’t want to get bogged down in any distractions.

“Hey Angela” a small voice came from behind, one that could only come from Fareeha.

“Hey Far” Angela said without turning around, still trying to focus on doing her work.

Angela was about to ask how Fareeha’s day was going, but she was interrupted by prying fingers at the collar of her turtleneck. “Fareeha?” She continued to try to turn the collar inside out. “Fareeha what are you doing?” She turned to face Fareeha.

“I’m uhh.. I’m umm..” Fareeha paused as if trying to remember something. “I’m trying to find the tag that says ‘Made in Heaven.’”

Angela paused for a moment, but realization spread across her face. Laughter came forth in droves. “Where did you get that one from?”

Fareeha was a little taken back, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She still wanted to continue, and she looked down at the piece of paper in her hand. Fumbling with the words she was trying to say, she stuttered out the next line “d-do you have a camera?”

Angela was taken aback at the strange request. “Um yes but I don-”

“So I can show my friends proof angels exist.”

Angela let out another fit of giggles before reigning herself back in. “You know you are just adorable, right? Did Jesse put you up to this to annoy me?” She said with a giggle.

Fareeha felt like she wanted to die of embarrassment at that moment. She couldn’t help but stare at her shoes. “Right… to annoy you” she said, defeated.

“Hmm! Typical. I’m going to go knock some sense into that troublemaker.”

Angela sauntered out the door, and Fareeha crumpled the piece of paper in her hand, throwing it out as she sulked back to her room.

~~Twenty years later~~

With a loud hissing noise, the carrier’s ramp opened and lowered itself onto the platform below, forming a rudimentary walkway for the passengers exiting the aircraft. Fareeha slung the duffel bag she was carrying over her shoulder, and stepped out into the midday sun. Looking around, the revitalized Watchpoint looked just like had twenty years ago. The atmosphere felt very similar to how she remembered it. She brought her gaze forward, locking on to the man who was approaching her, clipboard in hand.

“Captain Amari! It is good to meet you. I do hope your flight over was okay.” Not being one for idle conversation, Fareeha smiled and gave a small nod in recognition.

“If you would follow me, I will show you to your living quarters.”

The attendant ducked his head to enter the doorway to one of the entrances. Fareeha followed suit, smiling as she remembered the countless times Jack Morrison had hit his head there, too busy with paperwork to pay attention.

“Winston informed me to tell you to meet him in the officer’s quarters at 0400. Am I correct in assuming you know where that is?”

Fareeha returned her attention to the man beside her, coming out of her small trip down memory lane. “Yes, I do. Thank you.” She glanced down at her watch, just past noon.

Looks like I will have time to explore more around the Watchpoint, and see if anything has changed in the past two decades.

The man lead her to her room, a plaque was placed on the center of the door reading ‘Capt. Fareeha Amari.’

“So this is where you’ll be staying. If you want to request any additions or changes you can contact me and I’ll see what I can do.” He turned to give her space, but then added one last thing, “Oh, and Captain? Welcome to Overwatch.” Fareeha nodded, and he went on his way.

Less than an half hour later, Fareeha had her things set out and tucked away. She was not one to pack heavy, for all she needed were her different military uniforms, her workout clothing, and the other bare essentials. Much of the structured, militaristic attitude she had developed during her time in the Egyptian armed forces carried over through her time working for HSI and to the present. It made things easy for her to stay mobile, not being tied down to any location with mementos of home, but it would be untrue to say Fareeha did not secretly wish to possess said trinkets.

Feeling curious, Fareeha left the comfort of her bed to explore the corridors of the Watchpoint.

Many happy memories were made here, even in the short time her mother had been stationed at this Watchpoint. Whether it was hearing stories about the ‘Good ol’ days’ from Reinhardt, pestering Gabriel to play with her, or just hanging out with Angela while she worked on her computer, Fareeha had definitely made this place her home, even if it wasn’t for as long as she hoped.

As she walked down the corridor, a cracked door caught her attention, a faint pale blue light emanated from the cracks. A sudden giddiness filled her body as she read the owner of the room. She silently opened the door, and was greeted by the figure hunched over the desk, typing something at a furious pace. Fareeha leaned against the doorframe.

“Hmm, I really wish I had brought my camera with me” Angela swiveled around to face the unfamiliar voice, “So I can show my friends proof angels exist.”

Angela’s mouth crept up into a smile. “Fareeha,” she said fondly, “it has been far to long.” She picked her self out of the chair and walked towards Fareeha, bringing her into an embrace.

“It’s good to see that some habits never change” Fareeha said with a smirk, motioning her head towards the numerous papers strewn about her desk, byproducts of becoming a part of so many different research groups.

“It’s not work if you love doing it. And I can’t believe you remembered that horrible line,” she gave Fareeha a teasing slap on the chest, “I still remember the first you said it to me. It was so adorable!”

Fareeha rubbed the back of her neck. “To be fair, Angela, you wouldn’t let me live it down.”

Angela lightly touched Fareeha’s forearm, and the giggle she let out made Fareeha’s heart jump. “And I don’t think I ever will.” She let her giggling pause for a moment, and she looked into the deep brown eyes looking down to her. “It’s really good to see you.” She gave Fareeha a quick once-over. “You’ve gotten so tall too! It looks like the army really beefed you up as well, eh?” Now that she was thinking about it, Fareeha had changed drastically. Gone was the frail little Fareeha who bounced around wearing bright dresses her mother bought for her (much to Fareeha’s chagrin). The woman that stood before her had an aura of dignity, enforced by the muscular biceps put on display with her tank top. Angela allowed herself to glance over her frame, and she was impressed at how well she seemed to take care of herself and her body. Uh oh. Angela caught herself. She’s hot.

“You know,” Angela brought her eyes back up, and met Fareeha’s sea of deep brown, “Jesse never put me up to it. Quite the opposite.”

Angela’s face made an ‘O’ at the realization, and she slapped her forehead. “Oh my god. I laughed in your face! Oh my Fareeha I apologize for that.”

Fareeha softly laughed, “It is no matter, Doctor. It was twenty years ago. However…” a smirk crept on her face. “You can make it up to me by giving a tour around the Watchpoint. I have a few hours before I need to report to anyone, and I wanted to explore and see what has changed.”

“Well then, I guess it is only fair,” they both headed for the door. “After you.”

Fareeha gave her a thankful smile, which when straight to Angela’s heart, the beat picking up.

I wonder if she still kept her crush? Angela blushed at the wistful thought as they walked side by side, just as they had done so decades ago as best friends.

Author’s Note: So in other news I’ve recently converted to the lord and savior Scrivener. It’s just so useful. And I can get it on my phone too oh my god. Google drive we had a good run.

I also forgot to think of a title when I first posted it. Oops.

Moving On - Chapter 7

Body Language

Originally posted by korean-hip-hop

The next morning I overslept, as expected of course. I did hear the alarm going off, but I was too exhausted to get up. I didn’t even remember how I turned the alarm off, but I did and as a result I slept until noon. I just wanted to keep the curtains shut and hide in my room. I felt like crap, but it made me come to the conclusion that I really should cut down the drinking. My body was getting old and it couldn’t take alcohol as easily as I could when I was in my early twenties. I felt like crap, but I still had to appear at work. If I was lucky, then nobody noticed that I wasn’t there, but the chances of my absence being unnoticed were practically zero. I was the head of the law department of my company and everything had to go through me before a decision was made. Long story short, I was doomed.

The CEO gave me a hard time for the rest of the week, and as punishment for coming late. I had twice the load of work that I usually did, but I managed to survive the week without much damage.

“Oh you don’t that look well.” That was the first thing that Kiseok noticed about me, when we met.

I let out a chuckle at his blunt comment and said, ”I blame you for that. I totally slept the whole morning and had to drag my hungover body to work.”

“That’s why I’m buying you dinner today as compensation,” he released a smile, trying to cheer me up. He picked me up from work and we went to a small street restaurant nearby. It was one of my favorites and I really liked the owner. She was a nice lady and she always gave me discounts.

“You look good,” I remarked nonchalantly. “I thought you’d neglect your appearance and drown your sorrow in alcohol.”

“I just had a music video shoot. I have no other choice but to look good,” he said with a laugh.

Keep reading

I own nothing except this prompt. This was always meant as a challenge to myself to see if I could commit to writing a story that could be somewhat consistent. I’m not a fic writer and english isn’t my first language; I also didn’t have a beta besides my dear good friends letting me know I got a tense wrong and to change this or that, so please forgive any mistakes. 

Prompt: “You got my name on ’share a coke with…’”

Keep reading

A Solangelo Fanfic. OMGods! (contain spoilers to BoO)

So hey you guys, this is my first fanfic in that topic. I hope you like it. if you do - yay me. Now read it - Doctor’s order. (My new fave quote)

Oh and it’s contain spoilers - so beware and stuff (-;


Nico hated to be alone in the Hades cabin. Since Hazel and Camp Jupiter left, Nico hadn’t slept well. His dreams were full of Tartarus and Bryce Lawrence’s death. 

He looked at the ceiling, the sound of his own breaths was the only sound he heard, and he fell asleep. 

In his dream, Nico walked around in camp. He felt weightless, like he flew around. The other campers were all around, talking and talking between themselves - he saw Jason and Piper sitting and walked toward them. “Hey!” he called. Jason and Piper didn’t even glance at him, not even a small gaze.

Nico stood by them, “Jason?” he asked, but Jason didn’t turned to him, in fact - he and Piper started to make out. Nico put his hand on Jason shoulder. And nothing, he was invisible. 

The dream changed. Now Nico was in the palace of Hades, standing in the middle of the room. “Father?” he asked, he was alone there, not even a skeleton guard near the gates. Nico heard a noise, he turned. Bianca - his sister - stood there, looking right like the last time he saw her, the green floppy hat on her black hair. She still was eleven years old, right now Nico was older then her, but Bianca didn’t seemed so excited to see Nico, in fact - she looked sad. “Bianca?” Nico asked quietly, he wasn’t even sure she could hear him. He saw her breast goes up and down like she was panting. “Bianca, What’s-” he started asking, but Bianca run to him. When she got to him she started hitting him with her fists, “It’s all your fault!” She said. “You made it all happen! You are the one who should be dead!” Nico fell on his butt, his throat was blocked and he couldn’t say a word. “Mom would be alive if you were dead!” Bianca keep saying, each word was like a dagger. Nico closed his eyes, when he opened them he was next to the Cocytus. He gasped, standing up slowly. It was hot down there, in Tartarus, “Look who came back.” Nico heard a familiar voice right behind him and turned, Bryce Lawrence stood there, a big scary sword in his hand, “Well then,” he said, “I guess it’s my time to get my revenge.” he ran, and swung his sword.

Nico scream. 

Nico opened his eyes, terrified and scared as heck, he felt a warm touch on his hand, like a blood kind of warm. “Hey, hey.” said a calm friendly voice, “It is all right.” It took Nico a moment to figure it was Will. “It’s all right.” Will said again. Nico scrambled up in his bed, his face were wet. They sat quietly on Nico’s bed until Will asked - “Are you okay?” Nico nodded, but then shook his head, hesitating. “Actually no,” he said, “I’m not okay. I don’t want to disappear, Will." 

"You are not going to anywhere.” Will replied. 

“I just…” Nico said, “I don’t wanna get lost.”

“You will never get lost. Not under my watch." 

Nico start feeling relief, he also got realized his hand was still in Will’s hand. And that Will was in his bed, and that he wore nothing but his underwear, which were black with skulls on it. He grab his hand to himself, feeling tinglings all over his body. "Why are you here anyway?” Nico asked.

Will looked surprised. “You were screaming. I bet there’s no one in the camp who didn’t woke up from that.”

“Damn-it.” Nico said, a flower Hazel planted in the cabin died, and Nico thought he won’t be surprised if the hole plants in a radius of 70 meters died. 

Will stood up, “Go back to sleep, Nico, before you kill yourself from not-enough-sleeping. I can sense how weak you are from kilometers." 

Nico nodded and watched Will walking to the door. "Hey Will,” He said. “I know it’s not allowed but… Can you just stay here tonight?" 

Will turned to him, a little smirk on his face, he walked back and got in Nico’s bed. Nico moved closer to the wall, making space to will. "Sure Death Boy.” he said. 

Nico yawned, “don’t call me like that." 

"Go to sleep, Nico. Doctor’s orders." 

Nico was about to protest, but suddenly - with Will on his side, he felt a bit sleepy. And he fell a sleep.

When Nico woke up, it was already noon and there was no sign for Will Solace. He got up, picked up from the floor a pair of pants, which were to big to his waist. Then, he walked toward his closet - it was actually the first time he opened it. Nico pulled out an orange tee with the words "Camp Half Blood” on it. He didn’t had to try it on, it was way to small for his size. Nico sighed and took the shirt he was wearing all week straight, doing laundry for it every two days. After finishing getting ready Nico was hungry, so he went to the Zeus cabin, to see if Jason feels the same and want to drive to the nearest Mc'drive and buy some Cheeseburgers. He found Jason sitting on the porch of the cabin looking at some kind of map. “What'ya doin’?” he asked, Jason looked up from the papers, his new gold glasses sitting awkwardly on his nose. “Nico, hi.” He answered. “I’m going over Anabeth’s building plans to the new shrines. This is for Hebe.” He showed the sketch to Nico, who really tried to seem impressed, but the fact was that he still didn’t like most of the gods and all those shrines didn’t impressed him. They kept silence for a moment, but then Jason had to bring out last night. “So… How you doing Nico?” he asked. Nico raised an eyebrow, “I’m doing just fine.” he said. “Just had some bad dreams. A typical night of a demigod.” he added. “You screamed like somebody murders you, the grass around the Hades cabin was dead. I bet I never had such a bad dream.” Jason insisted. 

Nico muttered. “I am great now. I actually came to ask two little things - first: Do you have a spare Tee? and secondly - Wanna go for Mac&Cheese with me?" 

Jason shrugged - "There is a shirt in my closet, I guess. But I absolutely have no time for lunch. I have to finish checking those shrines before I’m leaving for Camp Jupiter on Monday. You know how many not appreciated gods are there? Tons! And I bet with you that the Hermes cabin is gonna loose some guys after we’ll complete that." 

"Do whatever you need to do, Jason.” Said Nico and got in the cabin to find a shirt, “But don’t forget to eat. Very important.” He took a “Camp Half Blood” t-shirt and changed. “See you around.” He went to search for someone else to take him for lunch.

While he was wandering around camp, Nico thought about his Mythomagic cards. He wasn’t sure what he had done to them. Although Nico definitely knew what happens to human being when they die, and it was dumb of him to think that it is the same for objects, Nico wanted to believe his cards rested in peace, or at least didn’t get lost somewhere. He tried to remember what he did with them when suddenly he heard Percy gasping for air while trying  to make a statue to stand straight. Nico run slowly and help him, together they got it to stand. 

“Thanks.” Said Percy. 

“You’re welcome.” Nico responded. They sat under the statue. 

“Whoa,” Percy sighed, “You know, some skeletons could be helpful here." 

"Sorry, Solace will kill me if I use magic. But technically - you could raise a wave to help you too." Percy nodded.

They haven’t spoken since last week, when Nico confessed to him and Anabeth he had crush on Percy. "So…” Percy broke the silence. “You are…" 

Nico exhaled. "YES!” He almost shouted. 

“I still don’t get it, I’ve never seen it coming.”

“Tell me Percy - what you would feel if someone saved your life, time after time after time. Wouldn’t you feel so too?" 

"I am not a… hmmm…” Percy stuttered. 

“So let’s say it was Anabeth!”

“It’s different with her…" 

"Then let’s say it was Rachel! Clarisse, Drew! Thalia! I don’t know. Wouldn’t you feel the same?!" Percy didn’t said a thing.

Nico sighed, he saw Will Solace leaning against the infirmary door and got up to leave Percy. "No,” said Percy, “I think I get it." 

Nico smiled, "Bye Jackson.” He said as an answer and started walking away when Percy said - “But just one more thing: What do you mean I’m not your type?!" 

Nico rolled his eyes, "Let it go, Percy!" 

When Will saw Nico coming, he stood up. "Hey Nico.” Said Will and passed his hand in his blond shaggy hair. He was taller than Nico, so when he looked up to see Will’s face he got dazzled by the sun through Will golden head. 

“How are you today?” Will asked.

“I’m hungry.” Nico replied. 


"Wanna go to McDonalds with me?”

“Yeah.” said Will, “Why not. I am just having a little break. Let me get some money and I’ll meet you next to Thalia’s tree.” Will walked away but then stopped and said - “Oh and… By the way - We’re not eating McDonalds." 

They almost missed their bus because of Will. He noted Nico’s laces were open and made him stop to tie them. When Nico looked up after he finished, he saw the bus’ door closing. "Wait!” he shouted and they started running, Nico hated running. They got the bus 70 meters after the station. Will, like the good boy he was, apologized and paid to the bus driver who growled in response. 

They had to stand during the ride, again - all because of Will, that insisted they must leave the chairs for elders. Nico was about to say he was supposed to be elder right now, but he didn’t want Will to look at him weirdly, so he groaned and stood.

When they arrived to the shopping center, Will dragged Nico to an ice cream shop, “Come on, Death boy – This is an awesome ice cream! The greatest!” he said.

“I’m a freaking Italian, When I lived in Venice I ate tons of that every Sunday. A real Italian ice cream, you know – like in real Italy.” Nico protested, he wanted a burger. “And don’t call me Death Boy!”
Solace won, in the end, and they went to buy ice cream. Nico took a coconut flavor and Will took chocolate and Roseberry. They sat to eat on a bench, eating their ice cream quietly. Nico did not eat ice cream for decades, which felt like only four year but still. Suddenly he felt like Will is staring at him. “What?” he asked. “It’s nothing; you have ice cream on your chick.” Will said. So Nico tried to wipe the stain, Will laughed – “You just make it worst!” Nico smiled awkwardly. “Here. Let me.” Said Will, he dried Nico’s chick but his hand, which was soft and gender, nothing like a warrior hands. They just stared at each other, and then Will Solace kissed him and it lasted for only few seconds. After that Nico blushed. He had no words to say, so does Will. So they stared at each other again.
“I’m sorry.” Will said eventually.

“It’s okay. Don’t be.” Nico said, Bianca and his mom used to kiss him all the time when he was a little boy, it was nothing like Will Solace, a son of Apollo, kiss. “It’s okay.” He said again. Will just nodded, then got up to the bin, to throw his ice cream cup. He lingered there, standing near the trash can with his back to Nico. Nico ran toward him. “Solace?” he asked. Will turned to him, he looked a bit confused. ‘But from what?’ Nico wondered, he looked at Will’s face and stood on his toes, and still barely got to the Apollo’s son’s face. He started laughing awkwardly, “Come on Solace. Can you just help me here? That’s an order, doctor’s order. Help.” He said. And Will kissed him again. It still felt strange, weird – but it was good also: kissing annoying-cute-blond and tall boy next to a trash can. Nico was the one to end the kissing this time, because once again they were about to miss their ride.

“Ah, Will?” he said. “yeah, Death Boy?” said Will. “I think we should get back. This is the last bus today.” Nico said, with a little smile on his face, he didn’t care much now if Solace called him that way. Somehow it was cute. The bus was about to close the doors.

So they ran to get the bus.

Messsed Up Spells To Bubble Tea Dates


Word Count: 1.1k (short but w/e)

Warnings: none!

Genre: fluffity fluff fluff

Summary: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to randomly pop into your apartment, I’m still trying to work out this damn spell!” or the au where Phil is still trying to figure how to use the teleportation spell. Wizard!Phan

Phil knew this had been a bad idea. He should have taken the tube, or gotten a taxi, but of course, of course he wanted to use the spell that he’d only just learned, even though he hadn’t completely mastered it. Now he’s awkwardly standing in his neighbor’s apartment and trying to figure out how to explain what just happened to a person who might not be a wizard.

Phil was especially irritable after a particularly annoying meeting with the most powerful people of the newspaper company he works for. The company makes the newspaper that has wizarding news for people, like Phil, who decided to live in a city with mostly normal people. He detested most of the people that he worked with. The meeting had not gone well, for Phil at least, because while all the older writers that had been with the company for years and years more than Phil got nothing but praise, Phil’s writing was criticized, and nothing but criticized. They decided it would be great to find every single flaw within Phil’s writing, and Phil was pissed. So, not wanting to deal with any more annoying business people on the tube, or risk having a talkative cab driver, he ducked into a back alleyway, where no one would see him, and performed the teleportation spell that he as in the process of perfecting. It wasn’t exactly perfect, and now he has a lot of explaining to do.

“I hope that you just fucked up the spell, and didn’t mean to teleport into my apartment.” The man whose apartment Phil just accidently teleported into said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, sounding oddly familiar.

“Sorry! I-um- I’m still learning it, I didn’t mean to randomly pop into your apartment, I’m pretty sure I live I the apartment next door…” Phil said, awkwardly, he hadn’t looked at the man since he realized that he had popped into the wrong apartment, and when he looked up to meet the man’s eyes, he was breathless. The man had warm, chocolate-brown eyes and a pale, though slightly tanned complexion, oh my god, it was his favorite YouTuber, Dan Howell. He’d met him once or twice, at YouTube conventions and stuff, but he would never have guessed that he was his neighbor! A blush started dusting his cheeks as he realized Phil was staring, and Phil turned bright red, having been caught.

“It’s okay, I’m Dan, Dan Howell, danisnotonfire.” Dan, said, breaking the silence that was starting to turn awkward.

“I’m Phil, Phil Lester, I write for the Weekly Wizard.” Phil replied, hoping Dan knew what that was.

“No way! I love your articles, all the others seem like they’re written by old men!” Phil smirked at this, because he was completely right.

“Thanks, my friends all watch your YouTube videos, and I do too, just not as much, with work being hectic and everything. You’re really creative.” Phil complimented Dan, trying not to let his inner fangirl show through.

Dan blushed, yet again and nodded his head slightly.

“Sorry for just appearing into your apartment, I can go if you’d like?” Phil’s intonation made it sound like he was asking Dan a question.

“You don’t have to, I mean you seem cool, maybe, uh, do you wanna, like, hang out?” Dan said, scratching his neck and cursing himself for being so awkward.

Phil’s reply was just as awkward. “Of course! I mean-um- yeah, sure, cool.”

Dan chuckled at his response, causing Phil to turn a deeper shade of red.

“Sit down, I’ll make tea, and you can tell me the story of how you ended up in my apartment.”

So Phil did, and they talked for hours, learning they had so many things in common, and by eleven thirty, Phil was on his way out of his favorite YouTuber, and now his friend’s, apartment with his phone number and a bubble tea date tomorrow at noon. He went to sleep with dreams of his upcoming date with Dan.

The next day, Dan had of course woken up at eleven and only had an hour to have coffee, take a shower, and look presentable for his date with Phil. He checked his phone once he had gotten into a cab on his way to the bubble tea café and saw the time, eleven-fifty, and a text from Phil at ten forty five this morning.

Phil :P- Can’t wait to see you later :) (10:45)

Dan responded quickly.

Dan :}- Cant wait to see u either! Might be 5 mins late, woke up late lol :P (11:56)

Phil felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he walked into the bubble tea café he saw the text was from Dan and was smiling when he read it he replied with a ‘no problemo ;P’ and put his phone back into his pocket, finding a table for two, that was semi-secluded from the rest of the café. Dan walked into the door red-faced and panting, as if he had been running, and quickly spotted Phil at a table in the corner of the café.

Dan speed walked up to Phil and held out his hand jokingly to help him get up, and they got up to order their bubble teas, and Dan insisted on paying because “I asked you out and I was still fucking late.”

They sat in their corner with their bubble teas and cracked jokes and shared their worst pickup lines and just had an overall good time.

They decided to go for a walk around London, and took the long, scenic route to their apartments. They didn’t talk much, they just admired the beautiful part of London that they didn’t see much and held hands. They looked at each other and smiled a lot, because they knew, they had that gut instinct, that this would go somewhere, somewhere good.


Now they sit in their apartment (Dan’s old apartment) exactly four years later, having a romantic anniversary dinner of pizza, the romantic part being contributed to be the fact that they had set up candles and roses. They both had a box burning a hole through their back pocket. Towards the end of their “romantic” anniversary dinner, they both reached into their back pockets, looked at each other, and laughed.

“Which one of us gets to propose first?” Phil asked, jokingly.

“I swear, this would only happen to us!” Dan screams.

Soon they decide to just exchange the rings, and save the speeches for the wedding.

Of course, the way they got to said wedding, was that stupid teleportation spell, that Phil had never been so glad to mess up.

^_^ hopefully that was good! (tons of fluff) 0u0

stay flawless, xx,

ilana (starsignphan)