bench slapped

Don’t Laugh. Help Me!

Fic Request: 
“hear  me out…. based on a dream i had…. but Mark, stuck in a kitchen cabinet.  Hes screaming. And we laughing. I have no other context cause that’s pretty  much all i remember from the dream. But pls.” 

Originally posted by jiminy-krispies

“Hhey have you seen Mark?” Amy asked, “I haven’t seen him in a few hours.” 
You bit your lip as you tried to remember the last place you saw the Youtuber. 
“He was in the kitchen before I started edited. But I haven’t seen him since.” 
Amy looked worried. “His car is still outside, and Ethan needs him to help with his video.” 
You stood from your desk, placing your headphones on the chair. “I’m sure he’s napping somewhere.” You said jokingly. “I’ll help look.” 
Amy led the way downstairs, your voices calling out Mark’s name as you searched the house. 
Ethan joined you as you searched the bedrooms. You went as far as looking under the beds and wardrobes. 
You regrouped with Amy in the kitchen. “Where the hell could he be?” You asked. 
“This house isn’t that big,” Ethan said, “How can we lose someone so obnoxious?”
Amy scratched her head, “Chica is outside so he didn’t take her for a walk. Maybe Tyler knows.” 
“Did you guys ring Mark’s phone yet?” You asked. Ethan and Amy looked at each other and laughed. 
“I honestly didn’t think about that.” Amy grinned. 
You pulled out your phone with a roll of you eyes. Tapping Mark’s number into the phone, you pressed it against your ear and waited. 


The three of you looked down at a cabinet under the sink. Amy was the first to move, reaching down and grabbing the handle. 
“I will only allow you to open that door if you promise not to laugh.” Mark’s voice said from behind the small door. 
Amy sniggered and threw open the cabinet. The sight made you and Ethan howl with laughter. 
Mark glared at the two of you. His legs scrunched up against his chest, arms stuck in a weird angle as his body was somehow wedged in the tiny gap under the sink. 
“What did I just say?” He exclaimed with a half angry stare. “Stop laughing and get me out of here.” 
“How did you manage this?” Amy asked, crouching down to better look at him. 
“Why did you manage this?” Ethan giggled, holding onto your shoulder for support. 
“I wanted to see if I could fit under the sink,” Mark replied bitterly. “I use to hide their all the time as a kid.” 
“Mark, you’re far from a child anymore.” You shook your head. “I’m surprised your head could fit to be honest.” 
Mark rolled his eyes at you and looked at Amy with a pout. “Can you get me out?” 
Amy scrunched up her nose, considering it. “You know what. You got yourself in there, you can get yourself out.” 
“Huh? Wait! That’s not far!” Mark yelled as Amy closed the cabinet door on him. 
You and Ethan burst into hysterics as Mark shouted and yelled through the door. Amy lifted her phone and opened the small cabinet, just enough to snap a photo as Mark wriggled to get free. 
“This is going on Instagram and going straight to his Mother.” She announced proudly. 
“Put the caption, ‘Grrr, Mondays’.” You said and Ethan slapped the bench with his hand as he laughed. 
“Guys! Come on!” You heard Mark whine. “Help a friend out!” 
“Do you hear something, (Y/N)?” Amy asked. “I think I heard something outside.” 
“You know what, I did too.” You said with a grin. “Let’s go investigate the outside noise.” 
You and Amy hurried out of the house, just as Tyler came in. He approached Ethan as the blue-boy stood, recording the knocking and grunts coming from inside the cabinet. 
“What have I missed?” Tyler asked, looking confused. 
“Mark got himself stuck under the sink,” Ethan replied with a wide smile. 
“Of course he did,” Tyler sighed.
Mark suddenly burst out of the small opening. The door coming off it’s hinges with a loud snap and a grunt from Mark as he flopped on the kitchen floor. 
“HA!” Mark said, springing to his feet with a smile. “I did it! I didn’t need any of you.” 
Tyler shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as Ethan giggled. 
“You’re fixing that door.” Tyler said firmly.

For You

“Are you even listening to me?” Louis asks in frustration, kicking Harry’s shin aggressively from under the grimy bar table. 

Harry lets out a surprised yelp, his leg shooting away from Louis’ as he rubs it soothingly. “Lou, what the hell?” He demands, glaring at his blue eyed friend with a questioning look on his face. 

Louis rolls his eyes at his overdramatic friend, replying smartly, “Maybe next time you should listen to your best mate when he’s trying to talk to ya, yeah?” 

“Calm down,” Harry snorts, allowing his eyes to shift back over to the blonde boy that he’d been after for months. “I’m just scouting out the crowd.” He lies blatantly, shrugging at Louis’ unimpressed look.

“As if. You’ve been obsessed with Horan’s kid since the beginning of the season.” Louis retorts with a sly smirk, knowing exactly how his best friend’s mind worked. 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. He wasn’t that obvious, was he? “Don’t be a prick.” He warns, “I’m just looking around.”

Louis gives Harry a blasé look. “Alright then, how about you go pick up that bird, hm? She’s been staring after you almost as much as you’ve been staring at the kid.” Louis challenges, a snicker already sneaking it’s way into his voice. 

Harry glances back behind him, making eye contact with a pretty, tanned girl with long, dark hair. She’s giving him the look. The look meaning: sultry, slanted eyes and a sinister smile curling around her dark red lips as she stared right back at Harry. She clearly knew who he was and must’ve heard about his most recent win for Chelsea, putting them through to the next round of playoffs. 

He turns back to Louis with raised eyebrows, sighing when he sees his friend’s haughty look, chin held high as he grins right back at Harry. “Fuck you.” Harry spits, getting up from his seat nonetheless and sauntering over to the girl whose friends are now whispering to her excitedly as her back is turned. 

Harry puts on his “million-dollar smile,” the one for the cameras and for the ladies. He taps the girl politely on the shoulder, and she turns, a bit too quickly in her heels, leaving her to stumble a bit. Whether it was predestined or not, Harry grabs her arm, steadying her and thus bringing her closer to himself, tilting his head charmingly and grinning. “Careful there,” He murmurs in a deep, soft voice. 

She looks dumbfounded now that he’s in her presence. Before it was just a look, and Harry can see that most of her confidence has flooded down the drain now that he’s right in front of her. “Oh, uh t-thank you.” She stutters and honestly, Harry might’ve found it cute had he not been so infatuated with a certain blonde across the room. 

His eyes drift towards said boy accordingly, almost out of instinct and his look darkens as he sees another boy speaking closely into the blonde’s ear. Harry’s face flushes in what might be jealousy, and he’s half ready to run over and stop the kid from going home with someone that isn’t right for him– someone that isn’t named Harry Styles. but one look at Louis’ smug grin stops him. 

Harry can’t let his cocky best mate be right, even though he most definitely is, he just can’t know that. 

He turns back to look at the girl, who’s looking off towards Niall as well with a redundant look on her face. “Who’s that?” She asks with a glint of interest in her voice. Harry shakes his head. 

“Not sure, love. I think the more important question is who are you?” He asks smoothly and he knows by the absolute heart eyes she just gave him that he’s already got it in the bag. In fact, Harry’s sure that if he asked right now without any other words, she would go home with him. Internally, he sighs. 

It’s never fun when they’re so easy.

Harry realizes after a pause in the conversation that he missed her name, but he can’t force himself to care. At this point, his interest is mostly gone and his eyes are jumping every few seconds over to the blonde that’s still on the dance floor with the brown haired douche that kinda looks familiar. 

It takes barely 3 minutes for the blonde to get over the other boy’s flirting and Harry can see by the way his demeanor that he’s uncomfortable. The kid starts backing up, hands suddenly stuck to his side and away from the bigger guy and Harry would never stand and allow his boy to get harassed by some random creep, Louis be damned. He gives the girl an apologetic smile, gesturing “1 minute,” even though he’s positive he won’t be returning. 

He gets close enough to hear his little blonde mutter something like, “Stop, Nick, stop,” before he gets in between them. 

In a huff, he presses a hand against the other boy’s chest, eyes narrowed and glare strong. The other boy stops, looking at Harry with confused, somewhat disoriented eyes and the green-eyed boy can already tell that this guy is obliterated. Still, he stands firmly in front of the blonde, who gratefully cowers behind. 

“I think he asked you to stop, mate.” Harry growls, and the guy, seemingly drunk but sober enough to know not to start a fight with Harry Styles, backs off pretty quickly. 

With a soft sigh, Harry turns to the blonde, murmuring softly, “You okay, Ni?” 

Niall tilts his head, smiling up at Harry cheekily. “I could’ve handled that myself.” He says in his own defense, but relents nevertheless, hugging Harry tightly around his waist, teasingly whispering, “Thank you, Hazzy.” 

With that, Niall steps back, blinking up at Harry with his huge, beautiful blue eyes as he says, “Well, I think I’m going to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Niall asks, biting his lip like he knows what it does to Harry.

In all honestly, he probably does. Harry doesn’t try to hide just how much he loves Niall. All of his teammates know, the coach definitely knows (and he hates it), and Niall, unfortunately, knows as well. And ever since day one, Niall made it extremely clear to Harry that he’d never make it easy on the taller boy. He may be small and innocent looking, but Niall Horan was a spitfire if Harry had ever seen one. Niall with his perfectly Irish accent, blazingly bright blonde hair, and sassy yet kind attitude, Harry never stood a chance. 

“Do you want me to walk you home, or get you a cab? And of course you’ll see me. I can’t wait.” Harry blurts, unable to control himself at all around this kid. He knows his cheeks are red and he knows that his eyes are too bright, too excited and vulnerable but the way Niall holds on to his muscled bicep is worth it. 

Niall’s hand doesn’t even begin to fit around the circumference of his arm, but he holds tight anyway, leaning up and kissing Harry’s cheek (much closer to his mouth, in Harry’s own opinion) sweetly before pulling away. “Already got a cabbie, Harry, but thank you, you’re the best.” He says solemnly, waving at Harry with his hand before rushing out the door and leaving Harry in a whirlwind by himself. 

He can see Louis giving him a “I-knew-you-were-a-spineless-pussy-I-told-you-so,” look, but Harry’s too far off cloud nine to notice. He simply flips the blue-eyed brunette off and walks out the door, about ready to head home himself, all thoughts of the girl at the bar completely away from him.

* * * * 

The thing is, Harry is good at what he does. He loves football and he loves playing for Chelsea with all of his friends but nothing will ever beat how good it feels after a harsh, terribly exhausting practice to be met with the gorgeous, positive sunshine ball that was Niall Horan. He came to nearly every practice along with his dad, who was head coach for Chelsea F.C. 

He was just 18 and played football all his life before a horrific incident that involved a too-enthusiastic recreational team and a shattered kneecap when he was 16 years old. Instead of being bitter and angry towards the cards that life had dealt him, Niall was just… perfect. He’d encourage all of the players and helped with practice as much as he could, and Harry just couldn’t get over it. 

Niall sits next to him as he heaves heavily on the shady bench on the side of the field. Subtly, the blonde hands him a water bottle and a towel, smiling at Harry as the brunette wipes his face thankfully. 

“Hard day?” Niall asks amiably and Harry nods in response, chuckling a bit while he’s still breathing heavily. 

“I can’t believe we’re almost in the play offs. Just two weeks.” The Irish boy sighs dreamily, like he was going to be playing in it himself. “So cool.” He continues, smiling to himself and Harry can’t help but stare. 

They’re quiet for a minute, and it’s nice, loud whistles and blunt punting noises as well as grunts from the acting goalies. Harry’s stuck in a trance, just staring at (his) blonde beauty. He doesn’t even think before he inquires, “Do you want to come over later tonight? I could make you dinner. We could just watch movies. Anything you want.” Harry offers, ready to do anything Niall wants as long as they’re together. 

Niall smiles at him and for a moment, Harry thinks that he might finally get an acceptance from the blonde. But, his hopes are dashed as Niall shakes his head. “I’m busy tonight, sorry Harry.” He shrugs, getting off from the bench.

“We can go any night? Tomorrow? Day after?” Harry calls loudly, but Niall just waves a hand behind him, jogging over to where Louis and some other guys are warming up. 

Harry’s eyes drift as Niall walks, down his skinny shoulders and down the spine of his back and down….

the brunette jumps violently as he feels a harsh swat to his head. “Eyes on the prize, Styles, leave my kid out of it!” Coach Horan, a nice, older, but stern man with the same blue eyes as his son. 

Harry smirks, playfully smirking at the coach, “I thought your son was the prize.” He winks yelping and rushing off the bench as the coach slaps him across the head again. 

He winks over at Niall as he hears the blonde cackling from down the field, sighing as he begins to do more drills, wondering how in the hell he’s ever going to get Niall to be his. 

* * * *

It’s the day. 

Play-off days are always tense but for some reason, this day seemed even more than usual. They’re playing Manchester United, one of their biggest rivals as well as one of the best football clubs in their country. It was going to be a tough game to say the least. 

The players are in the locker room now. There’s an agreeable silence among them, and everyone seems to be readying themselves for the game ahead of them. Coach Horan’s inspirational-movie-like speech had just finished and the game was to be starting in just a few minutes. Harry had yet to see Niall, something that was causing him extra anxiety because, somewhere deep down he knew Niall was his personal good-luck charm. 

They get the call to leave the tunnel within minutes and Harry sighs, rubbing a hand along his face and standing up. But, as the rest of the team files out, Harry gets pulled back. He’s ready to fight someone, fists raised and mouth open, but he’s shushed by a familiar accent as he gets pushed down onto one of the more secluded benches. 

“Niall?” Harry whispers in confusion, glancing up at the blonde boy, who looks a bit urgent in his meaning of talking to the brunette. 

“Harry.” Niall answers calmly, sitting himself in the brunette’s lap, instantly making Harry alert and coherent. Harry’s hands instantly go to Niall’s hips, holding him close even despite his confusion. “I have to tell you something very important, okay? I need you to listen.” He says, so softly that Harry definitely wouldn’t be able to hear him had the blonde not been whispering directly in his ear. Soft, pink lips are brushing against Harry’s ear as the taller boy nods eagerly, Niall chuckles sultrily, “I just want you to know, that this game means a lot to me…” The Irish boy breathes, digging his nose into Harry’s neck, making the brunette shiver, wondering if this was actually even happening. “And if you win this… for me… I would do anything for you.” He says, nipping at Harry’s neck playfully before pulling back, small smile clear on his face. 

“Understood?” He clarifies, sitting up rubbing his hands across Harry’s broad shoulders and down his muscled arms. Harry can do nothing but nod, mouth slightly open and Niall kisses the corner of his mouth slowly, pulling back and winking before walking out of the locker room, swaying his hips teasingly as he does so. 

He can’t even be mad that he gets in trouble with the coach for being late. 

* * * * 

It’s down to the final moments of double overtime with the score tied 1-1. The team is huddled up, listening to coach Horan give orders to all of the defense members to be on their best game and enthusing the rest of them just before timeout ends. They break and Harry shakes his head, pulling his longer hair and re-doing the bun so that it’s more out of his face. They still have a few seconds left and he can’t help but notice Niall walking closer to him. 

Harry grabs his shoulders  as soon as he’s close enough, shaking them slightly, “Anything?” He explicates. 

Niall grins, nodding. “Anything.” He returns. 

Harry’s eyes narrow in determination as the siren blares, alerting them that their minute is up. 

He’s got a game to win. 

* * * *

It’s 15 seconds left when he gets the ball. 

He’s halfway down the field, running harder than he’s ever done before. The defenders for Manchester look tired, they look worn, but they aren’t going to let him by easy. It’s 10 seconds and he feels like he can hear Niall screaming from the bench.

It’s five seconds when he gets to the right wing of the opponents field and he can feel the opposing players around him, trying to get the ball.

It’s three seconds when he kicks the ball with all his might with little sense of direction.

Two seconds, it’s in the air.

One second, it’s slipping past the goalie’s gloved hands and for a second he thinks he’s deaf because he can’t even hear himself as he yells out in victory as the siren blares. 

He’s got eyes for no one but Niall, he doesn’t stop for his teammates who are huddled on the ground or coach Horan who’s throwing his clip board in excitement. Nope.

He’s only got eyes for the coach’s son, blue eyes bight and excited as Harry runs straight towards him, barely slowing down before they embrace as Harry shouts, “That was for you!” 

* * * * 

Niall holds up his end of the deal. 

It’s two days later when Niall comes over to Harry’s house. 

The aura is romantic and Harry’s casually dressed but the food smells gourmet and Niall is beginning to think that maybe Harry really is just that perfect. With his stupidly slow Cheshire accent, perfectly curly hair pulled up into a messy bun, and sweet and protective and perfect, Niall never really stood a chance. 

“This is amazing. Why haven’t I agreed sooner?” Niall asks in a moan as he takes the first bite of whatever Harry’s prepared for them. The atmosphere isn’t that new to them. The flirting and touching was always a part of their relationship, but the nerves of the first real date were there and Harry was buzzing. 

“Hey, I told you I was a good cook.” Harry says with a sly smirk on his face. 

Niall rolls his eyes, remarking “Someone’s cocky.” 

Harry simply shrugs, and the two continue on the night in comfortable conversation about footie and Louis and the coach as well as other stupid puns and jokes that both boys seemed to enjoy. 

Before they can begin cleaning up from dinner, Harry makes a move. 

He closes Niall in around the kitchen counter as the blonde is attempting to put away his dishes. “Harry…” He giggles in faux-frustration. 

“Niall,” Harry repeats childishly, grinding against the blonde ever so slightly, making the shorter boy pause his giggling. 

He turns in Harry’s arms quickly. “I thought you would never take me up on that whole anything, thing.” He says, and instantly Harry’s lips are crashing to his own. 

It’s heated for a moment, something they had both wanted but held away from for so long. Harry’s grip on Niall is tight and unyielding and Niall knows that he’ll have some lovely battle scars from this night if it goes the way he hopes. 

“The anything thing was this date, this is just a bonus.” Harry murmurs appreciatively and Niall begins to suck on his jaw lovingly, hands tight around his shirt and neck, the shorter boy lifting up onto his tip toes just to get a good grip.

They end up on Harry’s bed, Niall in the bigger boy’s lap, hands grabbing at his shirt and kissing him feverishly like it was their last chance. Harry’s hands are blatantly groping Niall’s arse, making the blonde whimper into his mouth and pull the brunette hair out of it’s bun, allowing it to fall down. Harry opens his eyes questioningly but Niall just shrugs. “I like having something to hold on to.” He explains, not wasting any time driving forward and kissing Harry hard once more. Now he’s tugging harshly on Harry’s curls and damn, Harry didn’t know he was into that. 

Ten minutes later and they’re dry humping on his couch. Harry pulls away, patting heavily, trying to regain his stature as he breathes, “This– shit, this isn’t why I brought you here, Ni.” 

Niall pulls away, breathing just as heavily as he nods. “I know that, but it feels good, yeah?” He mutters, leaning back in to kiss Harry.

Harry nods, but pulls away, not sure if he truly understood what Niall was saying. “But Niall…” He protests, trying to push the blonde away. 

“Harry, I’m not… ’m not looking for anything temporary. I don’t think you are either. I want this. A relationship. You.” Niall says seriously, looking Harry straight in the eyes. “And right now…” He murmurs, looking down a bit shyly, “I want this.” He smiles softly, just like Harry knows and loves. 

So Harry kisses him. It’s sweet and soft and maybe the most memorable of them all. 

They continue on like that for a bit before Niall starts giggling completely out of the blue. Harry gives him a confused look that just makes Niall laugh even harder. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…. what’s me pa gonna say about this?” He asks and they both dissolve into fits of laughter. Yeah, this was going to work out just fine.

Aw yay I liked this one :) Thanks so much to the prompt-er and everyone reading! Also I’m sorry I know nothing about footie or sports at all sorry :\


Prompts are open! I do any/all niall-centric prompts including OTP, OT3, OT4, and OT5. You can see my previous writings here and my master post here.

Travelling with Jaebum



My heart was racing. I hated those moments when things seemed like they were far too horrific to be happening. Especially when I double checked everything before leaving the house. Me and Jaebum were travelling around Korea by bus. He had this idea in his mind for a while and GOT7 finally got long enough vacation for us to try it.

“I swear I put it in the backpack just before leaving.” I was digging through Jaebum’s black bag. “Oh please please be here. If I forgot it then…”

“What are you looking for?” Jaebum came back with two ice-cream cones. We were at a rest stop and the bus stopped there for half an hour.

“Have you, by any chance, seen my allergy pills?”

“No. Why would your medicine be in my bag?” Jaebum frowned.

“Because I put it here. If it is not, then I’m done for. There’s only one kind of medicine that helps me.” My skin already felt itchy. A few more hours and a crushing headache would present itself.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” He pointed at a small box lying next to his bag on the bench. I slapped my forehead.

“Sorry. I’m a mess.” Jaebum chuckled giving me my ice-cream.

Keep reading


I fell into the bench. The sharp slap of old wood connecting against my bones hardly registered and I immediately buried my hands into my face. A shuddering sigh escaped my trembling lips. Tears were forming so fast and thick that it felt like beads were pushed under my eyelids. The fact that I was such a mess and in public should have embarrassed me, but seeing as this weathered bench was in a garden area located on the property of a hospital which was currently full of people too worried with their own personal nightmares, I was willing to deal with it. The sun was shining brightly in a picture perfect blue sky. Weather, I normally would have categorized as “beach weather”. Now, however, the Rockwell portrait was cruel joke, mocking my current state of existence. I couldn’t bare to look at it, so I focused on my hands through blurred vision.

Someone sat beside me. In the corner of my eye, I could see he was dressed in black, his hands hidden in his pockets. I quickly rubbed my eyes feeling uncomfortable. I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. I wasn’t even in a state of mind to think.

“Lovely day, isn’t it.”

He had an accent. Something that brought rolling green hills to mind. Despite myself, I snuck a glance. He watched the skies completely relaxed in my company. I found myself doubting that he was a stranger at all. He seemed to act as if we were old acquaintances or associates, but that couldn’t have been right. I didn’t even live in this area. We had gone this far to see the specialist. The best one on this side of the country. I pushed those bitter thoughts aside.

“Yes. It is.” I replied with a sniffle.

He reached into his jacket where a breast pocket must have been and procured a handkerchief. It was a grey square of fabric with a red “C” embroidered on the corner. I accepted the offer more out of surprise than anything else.

“So, why is a pretty thing like you crying all alone out here?”

The rough quality of his voice was soothing. I shrugged trying to remain composed, but the simple gesture brought more tears to my eyes. It seemed my grief remained unrelenting. I nodded across the garden at the other people occupying the space. A nurse helped an old man shuffle along with an IV, a couple held a child completely devoid of hair, and a woman weak and old stared vacantly into a tree.

“The same reason they’re here, I guess.”

I anxiously toyed with the handkerchief.

“Ah. The “C” word.” He paused. “Is it you?”

I shook my head not daring to speak.

“A loved one then.”

I nodded. I swallowed hard a few times. My throat was so raw it felt like something was permanently wedged there.

“Inoperable…” I choked on a sob, yet managed, “stage 4.”

“No!” He breathed sounding taken a back. “If only there was some way to fix it.”

I shrugged and bobbed my head up and down in helpless agreement. I gave in, dabbing my eyes with the soft fabric.

“The doctors,” I gasped for breath, “said there’s just nothing they could do anymore. They just kept saying ‘as comfortable as possible.’”

“That’s just awful. What if I said,” He was speaking carefully now, choosing every word with particular purpose. “That I could help?”

“You’re a doctor?” I asked finally looking into his face.

White skin, lines around his eyes indicating middle age, and his hair line pulled at the front, but otherwise he seemed distinguished, like a character from book coming to life.

“My methods are a little more… outside the realm of science.”

His eyes flickered to mine. For a moment I was thrown off by his words. Did he mean some sort of pathos treatment? But his gaze stayed steadily on mine.

“Are you a… Healer?”

“Something like that, but mine actually works.”

I pulled my lips in and pursed them together. No matter how desperate I felt, I had my reservations.

“And what exactly do you do?”

“For a price,” he shrugged, “I eradicate that nasty cancer and your special someone lives on. Plain and simple.”

“What’s the price?” I asked feeling a bitter cynicism take hold.

He shrugged ever so slightly again, “After a long ten years, I get something of yours.”

My brows squeezed together. “What?”

“Your soul.”

The words left his mouth so casually as if it was the simplest solution in the world. As if what he was suggesting was normal and obvious, yet delicate to discuss. I blinked.

“M-my soul.”

“That’s right. You get ten long years to spend with whomever it is in there whose imminent death is breaking your heart, they live out their life and all it costs is your soul.”

I sucked in sharply. The doctors hadn’t even used the word “death”. They danced around it avoiding the uncomfortable taboo.

“What happens to my soul?”

“It’s mine to do with as I please.”

His tone was still soft and casual almost like he was discussing the breakfast menu. I looked down into my hands. My fingers were turning white as I gripped the handkerchief. The cursive “C” stared up at me. My hands finally relaxed and I looked up at him.

“Have you made your decision?” He searched my bloodshot eyes and I had.

Something always breaks

Originally posted by 394-shades-of-a-fangirl

Originally posted by acklesjensen


Summary. *Imagine meeting Dean in hell and getting pulled into the plan for the apocalypse kickoff.*

This is Part Eight in the No place like hell series. Part two here. Part Three. Part Four. Part Five. Part Six. Part Seven.

Pairing: Dean x reader

*I felt like I needed to put some WARNING with this one because it does get dark. This chapter has after-effects of torture. This story as a whole gets, well, hellish. Deals with torture and the after-effects. * Also.. this part gets smut-ish.

Word Count: 4732  (This one got a bit long but I decided to keep it as one part since you’ve waited so long already.)

Drive- Halsey

Mama I’m coming home. Ozzy Osburne lyrics used are not mine.

“Lost and found and turned around By the fire in your eyes.” ~Ozzy Osburne

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Aw, can you do the rest of the boys for the one about fighting alot and hearing him say something cute :)? Thanks

Michael A.K.A the original imagine. 


“I’m not doing this anymore. I am not going to sit around listening to how busy you are and how great your life is when you know for a fact that I am having the shittiest time Luke! You know I’m struggling but it’s like because you’re famous you automatically get a free pass to say and do whatever you want. Reality check, that’s a lie.” You yell exasperatedly at your boyfriend who’s heart shatters with every word you send flying across the dark room. 

“Not everything is about you! Here’s the reality check, we’re done.” He yelled back, slamming the door in your face and trudging loudly down the stairs. It wasn’t like this was a rare occurrence. In fact, these fights were so frequent that the neighbours had stopped asking how the two of you were if you ended up outside the apartment crying at two in the morning. Instead now they just had an emergency cup of tea waiting to bring out to you. It was sad that things had progressed that far in the few months that you’d been dating Luke. You loved him so much, there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to be with him for as long as he’d have you around but you would be naive if you couldn’t come to terms with the fact that your relationship was toxic. 

You composed yourself enough to traipse down the stairs to confront Luke. You knew you’d just apologise and everything would go back to its normal routine. This time was different. Luke wasn’t slouching over the kitchen bench, slapping himself on the forehead repeating ‘idiot’ relentlessly. His soft voice was coming from the lounge room so being curious you poked your head around the corner only to see him with the phone up to his ear and his face buried in his free hand.

“Mum I don’t know what to do. I really messed up this time.” There was a pause as Liz was probably giving some amazing motherly advice or was playing devil’s advocate to get him to answer his own questions. “Of course I love her why do you even need to ask that? You know how amazing she is, you know I think the world of her and you do too. She is perfect for me. We fight but we always work through it. I can’t lose her because I have a big mouth Mum I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He whimpers on the last word. “Mum I have to go, I need to make this right. Not just for this fight but for all of them. We’re done with fighting, we’re going to work this out." 

Calum: (The song lyrics are from “Without You”) 

"No I can’t forget your face as you were leaving.” Calum sings with his guitar strumming a melancholy melody to express his innermost feelings. It was one of those nights and by that it meant that you and Calum had had yet another blow up. You sometimes questioned whether it was because you were so similar that you two seemed like a candle and a match, always setting each other alight. 

“But I guess that’s just the way this story goes. No I can’t forget all of my sorrows when I had you there but then I let you go. And now it’s only fair that I should let you know I can’t live, if living is without you.” He sung with so much passion that your heart dropped to your feet. It was so raw and just by the way he was lost in the music so much so that he didn’t even notice you sneak in and sit on the couch opposite made you realise that this song had been written by him. Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as Calum finished the song the words on the crumpled piece of paper at his feet said was titled ‘Without You.“ 

"How long have you been sitting there?” Calum asked abruptly after snapping open his eyes.

“Long enough.” You admit sheepishly. This wasn’t a part of the plan, you were just supposed to hear the song, not confront him. This wasn’t going to end well.

“I want this to work out so badly. I see myself with no one else in my life. I don’t care that we fight more frequently than any couple should. What I care about is you and our future. We’re going to fix this. We’re going to make this last.” Calum said, grabbing your hand and wiping away the tear on your cheek.

“Do you think we can do this Cal? Do you think we’re ready for this?” You whimper almost inaudibly. 

“I know we can. I love you so much and I would never give up on you or us.” Calum smiled.

“I love you too, so much.” You squeezed his hand and Calum leaped forward to give you a reassuring hug.


“I’m so sorry.” Ashton whispered to the three gobsmacked boys standing in front of him in the recording room. He’d successfully smashed his way through three separate drums in the last hour and it had just become apparent that the rest of the band had stopped playing altogether and instead just watched on as Ashton’s life fell to pieces before their very eyes. 

“Ash-” Michael started.

“Don’t please just don’t.” Ashton groaned, holding up his hand and walking towards the door. 

“Sit down mate.” Luke said, grabbing his shoulder lightly and directing him over to one of the seats in the room. “What’s up?” He asked worriedly, crouching down in front of him. 

“I’m so angry all of the time.” Ashton groaned, running his fingers through his curls roughly, tearing at his scalp as a form of anger management. 

“What are you angry about?” Calum asked, walking over to stand beside Luke, his palm resting on Luke’s shoulder. 

“I am angry at myself. I’m so frustrated that I keep hurting the one girl who means something to me. How is that even possible? Someone explain to me how I somehow manage to make her cry every single time we have a disagreement? Relationships aren’t meant to work like that for fuck’s sake!” He yelled, throwing his drumstick on the ground taking some pleasure in the way is snapped in half. Luke jumped away and Calum took a cautious step back too.

“Do you think maybe your anger is linked to the fact that you can’t work out why you keep going in circles with her?” Michael asked, patting Ashton on the shoulder to calm him down.

“Even if I had a hundred reasons to give up and move on I’d be stuck looking for just one reason to stay. The thing about our relationship is that even when we make mistakes which would cost so many other people the existence of their relationship, I can’t seem to imagine my life with anyone else. That’s why we committed in the first place right? Because we both thought the same thing?”

“What would you tell her if she was here right now?” Michael asked. 

“I want her to know that even if we fight a million times over the most minor things, we will always be able to make it better again. I meant what I said when I gave her the good luck necklace for her birthday, she really is my token of luck and happiness. I want her forever and every single day I come more and more to terms with the fact that she’s the only girl for me there ever will be." 

"I love you so much Ashton.” You whisper through the phone that Luke is holding behind his back. He has been letting you listen to the whole thing and bit by bit your heart breaks to hear just how broken Ashton is. 

“I am making this relationship worth the fight.” Ashton says hardly before you can finish which makes you smile and hang up so you can get over there as quick as possible. 

Preference Requests :)