She could have just advised if she wasn’t interested anymore. Then, at least, he wouldn’t be here worrying like he was.
Of course, Rafael contemplated, they hadn’t really been seeing each other too terribly long. Two months tops, honestly; and considering both of their insanely packed schedules- with him busy in the court room and her busy… elsewhere, he wasn’t quite certain where she disappeared to so often… they really only found the opportunity to get together maybe twice a week.
But, despite the minimal face to face: they typically still stayed in contact. He could text her, she’d respond eventually. She’d message him, and he’d reply as soon as he could. Or one of them would call, they’d have a sweet conversation, and make plans. She’d say how she looked forward to seeing him, he’d be thankful she couldn’t see him blush…
In fact, he had switched the little notification sound that came from his cell when it was her calling or sending a message. The difference was subtle, more of a ’ZING’ than a ’DING’, most people probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
Rafael could, though, of course. The ’DING’ meant someone wanted something from him. The ’ZING’ meant; Genevieve.
Yet, unfortunately, it’s been about a week and a half of ’DING’s… and no ’ZING’s… Despite his many rings and ’ZING’s sent her way.
She could have told him she wasn’t interested, or at least that she was alright. It felt cheap, to have grown so attached over such little time and so few times seeing her face- just to have it all disappear so suddenly.
But, if there was one thing Rafael wasn’t, it was a quitter. And so, after getting out of the office late one evening, he decided to take that extra turn, and to go towards the apartment he’d picked her up from a few times before- yet had never been welcomed into.
This wouldn’t be weird, right? To check in? He hoped not… because he definitely was about to do just that.
Am i a stydia shipper? Yes
Do i think malia deserves better? Yes
Do i think stalia deserved a decent break up where they like you know actually talk and a FUCKING HUG AT LEAST when stiles returned? Yes
Jeff is treating malia like shit and acting like she’s isn’t a main character
LIKE PARRISH GOT THE ‘I LOVE YOU BUDDY’ FROM STILES BUT MALIA AND STILES DIDN’T EVEN GET TO LOOK AT EACH OTHER?!????!! FUCK YOU
A/N: I hope you enjoy this! I feel like Steve, Darry and Two-Bit are so underappreciated so I love when you guys request things for them!
Word Count: 510
Pairing: Steve Randle x Reader
“Babydoll?” Steve’s hand is on my back, gently caressing it. “You gotta get up.”
I can hardly open my mouth. My head is pounding, my throat is dry and every inch of my body aches. “No,” is all I can get out.
“Why not? Are ya sick?” He presses his bare wrist to my forehead and whistles, a sound that makes my head feel as though it’s pulsating. “You’ve gotta stay home. I’ll schedule a doctor’s appointment for you.”
My eyes snap open at the word “doctor” and I force myself to sit up. “No… I’ll go to work, actually.”
Taking my face in his hands. he studies me. “No. You’re not going to work.”
“Steve! I’m going to work! I have to,” I protest.
Steve shakes his head. “I don’t wanna boss you around, but you’re going to the doctor.” He picks up the phone and dials the doctor’s number, ignoring my glare. He schedules an appointment in forty minutes and hangs up.
“I hate you,” I mutter. getting up to make myself brush my teeth and look semi-decent.
“Is there any particular reason you’re so opposed to seeing the doctor?”
I ignore him and start brushing my teeth.
“C'mon, babe. Play fair and at least talk to me.”
Steve leans against the doorway, arms crossed, as I spit out my toothpaste. “I hate the doctor cause the doctor I had when I was younger completely sucked. All doctors suck and you can’t make you go.”
Steve pulls me into a hug and gently rubs my back. “Babydoll, I wouldn’t send ya to a sketchy doctor. I’ll even go back with ya, okay?”
Resting my head on his warm chest, I nod. “Fine. I’ll go.”
The clinic is cold and smells like antibacterial soap was used to mop the floors. Steve checks me in as I start to have a sneezing fit, so the receptionist hands me on of the stretchy face masks. She has a blond beehive and the longest, pinkest fake nails I’ve ever seen.
Steve and I sit in cold, hard waiting room chairs. “I hate it here.”
Steve kisses my forehead. He’s about to say something, but a doctor who looks like he’s in his mid-forties comes out and calls me back.
I trudge back to his office beside Steve, then sit on the paper-covered bed. “Hi, Miss Y/N L/N. I’m Dr. Michaels.” I shake his hand and relax. He’s not a jerk.
Dr. Michaels asks about my symptoms and checks me out, then prescribes a couple things to get the flu out of me as quickly as possible. The appointment is over in twenty minutes and before I know it, I’m falling asleep in Steve’s car on the way home.
“Thanks for makin’ me go, babe,” I yawn.
Steve doesn’t answer. He just rests his hand on my knee, smiles and takes us home.
Infinity is my favorite SM Arc and I was looking forward for the new season ‘cause of the new style(I hoped they won’t look like 10 years old girls in the final animation but I was wrong) and animation…..not anymore XD It will be as lame and lazy as it used to be but I admit that they really do how to draw decent eyes now at least! And I miss the lips! That was the best part in Crystal.
Request -- Your writing is so awesome aaahh! Can you write a Dean oneshot based off the song Gone, Gone, Gone by Phillip Phillips? Like the reader seemed like she died, but a year or so later she comes back, and it's all fluffy
(I hope that you like it! xx)
Dean was startled awake by the loud blaring of classic rock blasting through the speakers of his alarm clock, the music that would usually get him up onto his feet in the morning when he wanted to do anything but that; today, though, a weight was pulling his heart down into the abyss of sorrow that he had dug himself for a year now. He slammed down the snooze button on the clock, sending it crashing to the hard ground without a care, and turned on his side as it broke into little pieces with the red numbers blinking on and off again and never quite giving up on completely dying; misery had always been a permanent fixture on his face, but was now highlighted with much more sorrow than what had been present for the last several months.
He could still see the flames, which were seared onto the backs of his eyelids in a perfect recollection, growing higher and higher in the stretch of midnight sky above him as if they had plans to reach the heavens somehow. The horrific scene that didn’t belong on such a serene night had been in right in front of him had been beyond terrifying at the fact that you hadn’t been behind right behind him like he had thought when he had escaped the burning deserted building at Sam’s heels. He remembered how he went to sprint back in without hesitation as if he couldn’t see that the fire had completely engulfed the property and that he would have probably killed himself if his younger brother hadn’t yanked him back and started to tell him that it was impossible, that there was neither a way in nor out; once realization came upon him that what he was being told was true, he had been absolutely frozen in comprehension. Sam had been required to force his brother, numb with grieve, into the passenger’s seat of the Impala and drive them both away from the incident as sirens drew closer to them; the loss of you had taken a toll on him as well, like he had been hollowed out and completely empty, but knew that the pain that he was feeling was nothing compared to Dean’s when he turned his head and saw silent tears streaking down his brother’s face. Trying to be brave was always one of Dean’s best characteristics.
One year later and laying in bed, Dean was determined to maintain that same courage and go on with his hell of a life; he finally stood up and ignored the burden on his shoulders as he looked into the mirror and inspected the bags under his eyes that had come about in sleepless anticipation of this day, before moving his green gaze to the picture that he had stuck in the frame of the glass. The photo was of you, one that he had taken in the earlier days of your relationship; a big, beautiful grin was the most prominent part of your face, and just made you look all the more stunning. He ran his fingers over your cheek before sighing sadly and pulling on a t-shirt and stiff jeans before folding the photograph, which already had a white and wrinkled crease from him doing the same thing every day, in half before stuffing it inside of his pocket. Grabbing his bag, he walked out of his room and found the bunker to be empty because apparently, he was running late and Sam was already waiting for him in the car; there was no time for breakfast or to make himself as sane as possible before the long trip.
“Sorry,” Dean said as he threw his bag into the backseat, slipping into the driver’s seat before adjusting his mirrors and turning on the engine.
“It’s alright,” Sam’s eyes were searching for any trace of sadness in his brother’s expression, but he knew that he wouldn’t find a single one; he was just as good at hiding his emotions as he was acting brave. “Look, man, I can drive if you don’t feel like it.”
“I’m okay,” Was Dean’s muttered response, already driving onto the main road.
“Are you sure? Because—”
“I said that I’m okay!” he suddenly yelled, cutting Sam off; he then took a deep breath before relaxing his hands, which were almost white as they clutched the steering wheel too hard. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”
"Don’t apologize,” Sam replied with a slight smile in order to reassure his grieving sibling; he wasn’t hurt at all by Dean’s abrupt shouting, but they did confirm that he would need to keep at least one eye on him at all times. “It’s alright.”
The morning that had made Dean’s heart and head ache soon turned into afternoon, when his mood became just a slight bit lighter; Sam had brought him back a cheeseburger and a slice of pie when they had stopped for a quick bite, which had made him content, and some excellent progress in the research for the case had been made while the older brother was driving. It was when they finally switched off, though, and Dean was in the passenger’s seat that thing started to blur for him; the distraction of driving wasn’t his anymore, so thoughts of you kicked in the door to his mind and flooded it. He was reminded of your beautiful smile, the way you had hugged him whenever he was feeling down, how sweet your voice had sounded whenever you had spoken his name; he knew that he should probably be grateful that he remembered those things, but they still pained him and he wished at least twice during the drive that he could feel absolutely nothing.
At last, they pulled into an actually decent-looking motel inside of the small town that their case was in. Sam hopped out right away, eager to get to sleep, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed that his brother wasn’t following him.
“Dean…?” he asked, and his brother slowly got out of the car.
“I, um—” Dean scratched the back of his neck, looking down. “I just really need to be alone for a bit, Sammy. Just drive around and think.”
Sam hesitated, frowning a bit; he didn’t like the idea of him going out by himself while he was mourning internally.
“Do you really think that it will help you out?”
He nodded. “Hell, I sure hope so.”
Looking down at the hand that held the keys, Sam threw them to his brother.
“Don’t make me regret letting you do this, and be back soon.”
“Alright, mother,” Dean scoffed, getting back into the Impala and revving the engine to taunt Sam until he went with a roll of his eyes to go rent the both of them a room; it was only then that the joking manner disappeared, and desolation made itself a home inside of him once more.
Dean only drove for several miles, barely even focusing on the road when he pulled over into a small pocket of gravel, shutting the car off and leaning into his seat; he pulled out the worn photograph of you, studying it with a small smile for a few moments before taking his cell phone out. He scrolled through his contacts, and his heart rate got quicker when he landed on your name; even though he did this every night without success, he always wondered if that night would be the night that you finally picked up. Pressing ‘call’, he hesitantly brought the phone to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut, practically praying for you to say “hello” to him in a wind-chime voice that didn’t contain a single care in the world; that didn’t happen, though, and it just went to the same voicemail that he heard every night and didn’t mind listening to you if it meant hearing you talk.
Snapping the phone shut, he tossed it onto the dashboard and buried his face in his hands, just glad that someone that he didn’t know was still paying your phone bill and was the reason that he could still hear you every day.
"Damn it,” he whimpered to himself, anger rising up in him and causing him to punch the steering wheel. “Damn it!”
Tears started to spring up in his eyes, and he let them roll down his cheeks; there was no one that could see him, or hear him. He was completely alone.
"I’m so, so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered. “God, I’m so sorry.”
He was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he hit his head on the roof of the car when his phone started to ring, and he grabbed for it with a couple curses on his tongue; they weren’t said when he saw who was calling, though. Your name flashed on the caller ID, and he didn’t know what to think; so, he answered it.
"Hello?” The word was only a ghost of a murmur, and his entire mouth went dry at what he heard on the other line.
“Dean?” It was your voice. Loud and clear. He’d recognize it anywhere, at any time; doubt whirled around his head, and he shook it.
“No,” he growled, gripping his phone too tightly. “Quit screwing around. Who the hell are you?!”
"There’s a dead end a few miles ahead of you. Go there.”
The next thing that he heard was a click on the other end of the line; even though he didn’t know what to make of the situation quite yet, he wasted no time in turning the key in the ignition and stomping on the gas pedal. He was going to kill whoever was messing with him.
When he approached the end of the street, though, his breath caught; your car was parked there—and in the light of his headlights, it was clearly you sitting on the hood of it. You didn’t turn around when he turned his own car off, and nervousness spiked inside of you when you heard the sound of him stepping out; you half-expected him to say something, but knew that he wasn’t going to when second after second passed. Finally, you jumped off of the hood and turned to face him; saltwater filled your eyes the instant yours met with his, and you had to hold yourself back from embracing him. He had to do the same, and took one step towards you with a paradox of disbelief and faith inside of his gaze.
“Y/N?” You nodded, allowing yourself to grin at him; he then stepped back, shaking his head. “No. It can’t be.”
“I’ll prove it, then.” He watched as you did the holy water, salt, and the silver test on yourself, and realized that you weren’t crying out in pain in front of him; when his eyes locked with yours again, a smirk came onto your face. “Believe me now?”
Dean ran towards you and hugged you to him tightly, nearly knocking the wind out of you with the force of his hold; you didn’t mind it, though, and pressed your lips with all your might to his. He kissed you back passionately, crushing his mouth to yours and cradling you into your chest before pulling away.
“How…?” he questioned, all smiles. “I…I thought that you—”
“That I died,” You finished his sentence, and he nodded. “No, I escaped. Not without a burn or two, though. I still have scars.”
“Then why? Why didn’t you come back to me and Sam?!” Betrayal filled his tone, and he ran his hands through his hair. “Y/N, I’ve been thinking that you’ve been dead this whole year!”
"Just listen to me,” you told him, shutting him up. “Back then, I—I thought that you guys were better off without me. I actually still think that.”
“What?” His voice was incredulous. “Why would you ever think that?”
"I thought that ever since I joined the two of you!” you cried. “I didn’t run as fast, I didn’t swing hard enough…I was holding you back, and I didn’t deserve everything that you gave me.”
“No, no,” he replied, taking your face in his hands. “You did deserve everything. You deserve more. If those things were true, I sure as hell didn’t notice, even before I loved you! I’ve been loving you even though I thought that you were gone, Y/N, and I hate hearing this now that I know that you’re alive, that you’re still breathing.”
"I still love you too, Dean,” you confessed, leaning into the touch of his hands. “I’m just…so sorry for ever leaving you. It was a mistake, too big of one.”
“I’ll say,” he responded, and you looked up confusedly to see an odd twinkle in his eyes. “Now, why don’t we got back to the motel and see Sam?”
You were beyond shocked; you knew that you weren’t worthy of him after everything that you had done. “What?!”
“You heard me!” he exclaimed, gesturing to your car. “Get in that old junker of yours and let’s go!”
“Wait,” you mumbled, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket and pulling you towards him. “Are you…are you being serious?”
“Does this face make it look like I’m joking?” he teased, and then abruptly grew soft. “I love you, Y/N. I’m not going to turn my back on you now, after everything that’s happened. I need you by my side.”
You became so overwhelmed with joy that you threw your arms around his neck, locking your mouth with his once more and the both of you shared your affections with each other through the gesture; all of your regret that you had been feeling disappeared as your fear ebbed, and you knew that you were safe with him again.
"I need you too, Dean,” you told him quietly, burying your head into the crook of his neck. “I always will.”
“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before smiling at you. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
A/N: Woo-hoo! The last part to this fanfic! I’m actually proud of this story, to be honest. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I’m posting it a day earlier because I just finished it. I hope y’all like it. I’m going to now focus on the last few requests I still have in my inbox and then start on my new Nate fanfic, “Neighbors.” Happy reading 💖
Okay we just got out of our J2 photo and I’m shaking a tiny bit but I’m going to try to document this because I forget things easily and I never want to forget this so here we go
Okay first of all, a friend we see at every con gave us this photo we weren’t expecting it this was a big deal
We are cosplaying Sam Wesson and Dean Smith so we were in decently appropriate J2 cosplays so that was good
Um um um okay so the idea was that we could be Wesson and Smith looking at them all confused because they are also us
But like, nervous. Nervous.
When it was our turn, Jared looked at John like she was a normal patron, but then he looked at me and he looked like -I don’t want to jinx this- he looked like he remembered me.
He hugged me like people hug people that they know. At least, I’m really pretty sure that was that hug. It was a really good hug.
And he asked me how I was and I squeaked a “good” or something, I know I definitely asked him how he was
We repositioned ourselves so we were in the middle and Jared put his hand on my shoulder and stepped between Chris (the photographer) and us to tell us that he and Jensen had just been talking about their favorite gag reels and Jared’s favorite was from this episode we were cosplaying
//he specifically stepped in the way so no one could stop him from talking to us.
Then it was picture time and I told him to look confused but like, at me
And I just now realized that was the first time I Sam-faced at him oh wow
Yeah, so he made sure I would get the photo I wanted. I think he realized that these photos are really important and he wanted to make sure it was good
Oh yeah, John and Jensen existed too I guess
Thank the gods for Jared
After the picture Jared said “Thanks, babe” which might be something he tells everyone but it seemed really funny to me because I was cosplaying Sam?
I passed Jensen on the way out and, realizing that I hadn’t said anything to him, apologized for taking so long and he looked at me like ‘are you shitting me that was nothing’
Fuck, I’m still shaking I’m sorry I’m not even going to edit this I just wanted to post it before it all went it of my head I’ll edit it later
A/N: so this one is gonna be a bit shorter but yeah this is what I felt like writing tonight so I hope you still enjoy it! :)
I stepped in front of the full size mirror in my bedroom, instantly letting out disappointed sigh. I ran my hands over the black fabric that tightly hugged every curve, making me feel exposed to say the least. Tonight was the first night Harry and I were able to have alone time after him coming back from his tour, and all I wanted was for him to find me decent looking.
“Y/N do you think- wo wow” Harry let out as he entered the bedroom, still wearing nothing but his towel. “Wow what”? I questioned, spinning around to face him. “Wow you obviously” he replied, biting down on his bottom lip. “Stop” I mumbled, turning my heel towards my make up table. “Something wrong”? Harry asked, sitting down beside me with furrowed eyebrows.
“I don`t look like Harry Styles` girlfriend should look like, that`s what`s wrong” I muttered, looking anywhere but at him. “What”? Harry let out, in that utterly confused way only possible by him. “Everyone`s used to you dating goddess like models and I obviously don`t fit in that category” I said, furiously blinking back tears.
“Okay well first of all” Harry started, still sporting his confused expression. “I`d like to remind you that you are the second girlfriend I`ve had since being in the band”. “All the others have been rumors and you know it”. I nodded reluctantly lifting my gaze to meet Harry`s. “And what you also should know by now, is that I, am strongly of the opinion that you are one the most gorgeous girls to ever set foot on this planet” he finished, flashing me one of his million dollar smiles.
“Well thank you if you actually mean it” I said, still clearly blushing from his little speech. “I do Y/N” he stated, now with a more serious expression.”Fine Styles, you win” I smiled, reaching for his hand, intending to give it a grateful squeeze.
Harry being who he is, grabbed it, and instantly proceeded to pull me onto his lap, wrapping me in a giant hug. “I love you, you know” he purred, voice slightly muffled by my hair. “I love you too, pretty fricking much” I replied, making Harry chuckle. I let out a sigh, this time of bliss, feeling very lucky about having a guy who no matter what, always makes me feel good enough.
Full Summary: When Levy takes a job requiring that she
retrieve a treasure from ancient ruins, she doesn’t expect there to be a
guardian. In fact, she rejects Mira’s offer of sending someone with
her or even the idea that she should invite anyone other than Lily with
her. “Good thing it’s Mira, she’s probably already sent Gajeel after
Author’s Note: Time for the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy!
The meeting with the client went by fairly quickly after they’d
dropped off a letter that would be mailed to the guildhall, much to
Their client was a middle-aged one whose gaze was a little bit too
directed at her lacking chest, as if he was disappointed, and Levy
forced herself not to smack him upside the head after he made some kind
of snide comment under his breath. Lily was watching with care
throughout the entire interaction, silently promising Levy that he’d
kill the man if he so much as layed a finger on her in Gajeel’s place.
Their instructions were simple.
a treasure that was hidden within the ruins of an ancient people and
bring it back. Receive her payment and head home. Ask no questions about
the treasure, as it concerned him that she might run off with it.
given him a look, fighting the urge to snap at him to go find it
himself if he thought the mage he hired was going to run off and steal
it. She’d been smart in her questions, asking if there was anything
defending it or if anyone had tried to take it before and what had
happened to them.
He’d answered with a sly smirk that made her uncomfortable, “Not that I know of.”
they left the client’s home and were a decent distance away, Levy gave a
shaky smile and murmured, “I hate clients sometimes.”
be a nuisance, but they are what pay us and we can’t complain about
that,” Lily said with a reassuring look from his place in her arms.
She’d grabbed him and hugged him to her chest when she’d become worried
that the man would try to grab her and he’d simply let her. “At least
you won’t have to deal with him until it’s time to come back and bring
him his treasure.”
Levy narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, a pout
sliding across her face. “I don’t want to see him at all, honestly.
Anyways, do you think he was lying? I’m sure there’s some kind of
guardian beast or spirit or something. Some kind of defensive magic.
There has to be. A piece of treasure wouldn’t be left undefended in a bunch of ancient ruins, would it?”
“I don’t believe it would have been left undefended,” Lily agreed with a heavy sigh. “At least we’ll be prepared.”
Well the only thing that pleases me about next week’s promo is that we might, I mean MIGHT just get some closure on the Tom storyline. Thing is while I LOVE Ryan Eggold’s performance and consider it the highlight of the show, their attempt to persuade me that there’s any ‘love’ there between him and Liz is irritating as hell. It’s like they’re trying to make a Liz/Red/Tom triangle and I’m sorry but I just don’t buy it. Between Red and Tom at this point there’s really no decision to be made.
Now Liz/Kessler, at least while I just don’t think they have the proper chemistry is at least believable and frankly less offensive. He’s a good guy, he clearly cares about her. Heck, I could see Red pushing for Liz to go with Donald because he believed she’d be better off with the G-Man than the Master Criminal.
So attention TPTB, while we need plenty of Lizzington each week, we don’t necessarily have to see it getting romantic in the near future and we can even live with Liz being with someone else…but for god’s sakes not Tom Keen. The man is a classic example of a sociopathic abuser.
On to other details…I did like that while Liz made it clear she doesn’t take anything Red says at face value, (which he himself is the first to admit is a wise move,) she didn’t assume he was lying about Powell killing himself. She knew Red would tell her the truth…as far as it went, she just also knows that Red *never* tells her everything and understandably is getting a bit tired of it.
And I LOVED Red looking at Liz’s old photos.
Very well said Winnie! Thank you for the submit!
I agree with every single one of your comments above. Although I don’t see a romantic connection between Liz and Ressler, at the very least, he’s a decent human being.
And Lizzington shippers don’t expect a romance full of hugs, kisses, and adoring words each week, but we do want to be able to respect and root for our female lead.
"Be careful.“ You whispered as you saw Thomas running into the maze.
You said that everyday, whether he could hear it or not. It was somewhat of a good luck charm of yours to keep him safe. You sauntered away from the maze entrance and to your job, looking back a few times, almost expecting Thomas to run back out and hug you.
The antagonizing feeling of loneliness overwhelms your system as you make your way to your job; which was a med jack. It was a pretty decent job, at least you wern’t a slopper or a bagger.
You yawned once you got into the building. You should have gotten more sleep, but you were up all night thinking about life before the glade, which ended up making you sad so you had to stop.
"Hey, Y/n. Get enough sleep last night?” Clint laughed and punched you slightly in the shoulder, which prompted you to push him to the ground. You’re just not in the mood this morning.
“Sorry.” He laughed once more before going into another room.
“Maybe I can get some sleep.” You sighed before sitting in a chair. You rested your head on your hand and began to doze off.
“Wake up shank, you got an injury to tend to!” You heard Clint yell.
You jolted awake and stood up to find your wounded glader. To your surprise and dismay, it was Thomas.
“Oh, hey Y/n.” He chuckled nervously.
You sighed and shook your head, only to hear him groan.
“I know, but I tripped! It’s not my fault!”
“But still, I don’t like seeing you here every other day."
"You know you love kissing my cuts.” He winked.
“That I do enjoy, but it seems that you twisted your ankle. Congratulations, you get to stay off your feet for a while.”
“At least I have you to take care of me.” He smiled.
You grinned back at him before kissing him on the cheek.