blurred lines of sight

a little birthday something for @microbino who asked for zimbits and moving in! happy (late) birthday, darlin’!


“Bitty, I didn’t say I was judging. I just said I didn’t quite get why one person needs so many shirts.”

Bitty rolled his eyes as his hands deftly moved his shirts from boxes to the stack of hangers lying on the blue bedspread. “Jack. Sweetheart. Darling. I love you, but you have twelve shirts. I should know. I’ve counted. Three Samwell. Two Falconers. And seven plain v-necks in different colors.”

Jack looked up from where he was crouched by the dresser, putting away Bitty’s socks. “Well, yeah. That way I have enough for the week, and then I do laundry.”

Bitty smiled to himself as he finished with the stack of shirts. This boy.

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Don't Look Back

When you called for an Uber cab to pick you up, this was not the car you expected to arrive. 

It’s an old black Bentley, carefully restored and gleaming in the sunlight. The long-muzzled low rider has a profile more like a pistol than a car; all angles and chrome, and the engine that rumbles beneath its lengthy hood sounds like the growl of a caged monster. 

The driver is not who you would expect behind the wheel of a car like this: It’s just a girl, maybe pushing 30, her hair tied back and her eyes regarding you seriously over the rims of black-framed glasses. 

“You called for a ride?” 

This wasn’t what you had in mind, but before you can find some way to put that into words, the driver leans over and opens the passenger door and you feel oddly compelled to climb inside. The cabin is oddly spacious, and you lean back against the leather bench seat and try to make sense of why you feel so uneasy. 

“She don’t look like much,” the driver says, glancing at you sidelong; a hint of an ironic smile touches the corner of her lips. “But she’s the fastest ride you’ll find in the city, that much I can guarantee. Buckle in. And whatever you do, don’t look back.” 

“Wait, what?” 

She pulls the car into reverse, executes a 3-point turn to get out of the parking lot. At the edge of the lot, prepared to enter the on-ramp to the highway, she turns and fixes you with a cold stare. 

“That part’s not a joke. Don’t look back. Keep your eyes on the road. We’ll be there soon.” 

The car rolls forward, and you do as you’re told, keeping your eyes focused ahead of you. You can’t help but notice that there are no mirrors. You wonder how that’s legal, and think of asking the driver, when you catch the first glimpse of something strange. 

It flickers, just at the corner of your perception - some little ripple, like a mirage rising over concrete. 

“Don’t,” the driver says, before you give in to the urge to turn and look, and you force your head back against the seat and close your eyes. 

It does not feel like the car is moving. Even as the driver eases her way up the on-ramp and out on the highway, you never feel the sensation of the wheels moving beneath you. Instead, you have the odd feeling that the world around you is rushing past while the car itself stands still - like a car in an old Hollywood picture, the landscape projected behind it. 

But the images seem to pick up speed. Ahead, the road approaches at the general speed you’d expect for the highway; but off to the sides, in your peripheral vision, things seem to be moving much faster. They meld into a blur and vanish outside your line of sight. In your peripheral vision, you catch glimpses of motion, of flickering, like flame. 

You could swear you see other things, too, dark shapes prowling the edges of your vision; you have the skin-crawling prickling sensation of being watched. 

The driver maneuvers left, passing a car, and despite the instructions to keep your eyes on the road ahead, you can’t help but sneak a glance at the other vehicle. 

Its driver is a large man, dressed in business attire - but as your car rolls past, the flesh seems to melt from his face, rolling like candle wax down his collar and forming a puddle on the driver’s seat. All that’s left are muscles - and then, not even that, simply bones. Bare teeth and empty eye sockets, bony fingers curled around the steering wheel. 

The skull grins at you from behind the wheel, and you ignore the plea of your driver. You turn and look back over your shoulder. 

Behind you, the road has fallen away into nothing. Just behind the car’s rear wheels, the asphalt crumbles; within seconds of your departure, the road you had been traveling falls away into a dark pit. Beyond, like a sun low on the horizon, you make out the glow of fire. 

“I warned you,” the driver says, with a tone like regret. 

Behind the car, in the crumbling world, a thousand souls rise over the flames like escaping wind. The ghosts gather in the sky like smoke, circling overhead like water around a drain. 

The car around you vanishes. The road beneath you vanishes. Everything is gone - and then, just as abruptly, you’re gone too, your awareness snuffed out entirely. 

When you come to your senses, you find yourself behind the wheel of an old black Bentley, parked at the curb. A woman approaches your car, arms full luggage. 

“Get in,” you say, pushing open the door for her. “Wherever you’re going, we’ll get you there the fastest. Just don’t look back, whatever you do.” 


This is one of the four entries I’m writing for @buckysmetallicstump‘s Disney Challenge! My prompt for this entry was #19: “Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” -Lilo & Stitch. Quote will be in bold.

Song Inspiration: “BLUE” cover by OXEANZ (originally by Troye Sivan - read the author’s note)

Summary: Sometimes the best lessons are learned from Disney.

Word Count: 2400-ish

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: SPN level injuries, language, first time writing Castiel (I feel like that should be a warning)

A/N: I just want to point out that I love love LOVE Troye’s original version. However, I remembered coming across this cover a while back and felt that the tone fit the story better. Plus, it really is a beautiful cover and if you haven’t heard it it’s honestly worth checking out. Here is a link to both versions if you’re interested:

Troye Sivan (Original):

OXEANZ (Female Cover):

From the first moment you found yourself staring into those electric blue eyes you knew you were a goner, and when you learned that he was an angel it had surprisingly been, well… unsurprising. The commanding power within his eyes and the sheer depth of their color was to beautiful for any human to possess. Sure, his body was technically only a vessel, but you were convinced that everything about that vessel had begun to shine brighter from the moment it was touched by the angel. Besides, the vessel was empty now. Castiel was completely and utterly himself, and you were completely and utterly in love with him.

Of course, you would never tell him that. He was an angel. You were a human. Thinking you had any kind of chance with him was a disillusion you didn’t bother to burden yourself with. You had accepted that a long time ago, happy to call the angel your best friend instead.

And he really was. You might have known Sam and Dean the longest, having spent a large chunk of your childhood being babysat by Dean when your parents were off on hunts, but with Cass it felt like there had never been a day you spent not knowing him. You had been able to open up to him about things you thought you’d never share with anyone, and it was easy. He listened, without judgement, and when he could he offered advice. But more often that not he realized that all you really needed was a shoulder to lean on. You had never been more yourself with anyone, and there were moments when you met his gaze that you realized he truly saw you.

Currently, you were curled up next to him in your room at the bunker watching Lilo & Stitch. That was one of the many things you loved about Castiel. He was always happy to watch endless amounts of Disney movies with you. Whenever you were lucky enough to get Sam and Dean to watch one it wasn’t without a series of complaints. But Cass never complained. Not once. He even seemed to enjoy them most of the time, and you for sure as hell enjoyed the time you got to spend with him.

All to soon the end credits began to role and you snuggled further into Cass’ side, letting them play out. “So Cass, what’d ya think?”

“I think this one has been my favorite.”

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Pairing:  Jumin X MC/Reader

Summary: The RFA and MC experience complications with their pregnancy.

Genre:  General, Fluff

Rating: PG (because apparently, I write Jumin sensually)

Word Count:  Approx. 1500

Protip: Listen to “Love Songs for Robots” by Patrick Watson.

He had always been protective of you.

When you told him about your surprise in 9 months, his eyes had brightened with such joy and love.  He had been overjoyed!  His beloved wife would be the mother of his child!

But Jumin being Jumin, the more precious something was, to him, the more effort he put into protecting it.  And he never seemed to know when he was going overboard.

He had Jaehee book all your doctors’ appointments, an architect for the nursery, and within a week of getting the news, had already started screening for a nanny.

“Husband, I’ll be home to care for the baby anyway,” you had said when you found out, annoyed.

“Wife, even I know child-rearing is taxing,” he countered, a slight smile on his lips.

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The Blondie and the Hot One


Enjoy! :)

“Okay, so you fall in love with the person of your dreams,”  Magnus said, glancing up from his phone to examine Cat’s face, “but your country’s leader goes crazy and everyone goes into poverty and dies of… starvation? That’s a little extreme.”

“Press the button,” Cat said. Her fingers found her water glass and she raised it to her lips, without ever breaking eye contact.

“Are you kidding me?” Magnus laughed. “You’re going to send an entire country into chaos because you fall in love?”

Cat nodded, taking a sip.

“True love can overcome anything,” Cat said.

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You’re My Everything

Thank you so much to the nonnie that requested this, my first ever 40s Bucky fic, I really hope I did your idea justice and that you like it. It’s super long, I’m sorry I got carried away but I really hope you like this as much as I liked writing it, please let me know x

The title comes from this Al Bowlly song. Al Bowlly is seriously one of my most treasured singers who just so happens to have been around in the 1930s so this was quite fitting. Also this song influences some of Bucky’s dialogue towards the end, again from the 1930s.

You have no idea how much feedback means to me, so please do not be shy my little lovelies. 

Request: i was wondering if you could write something about 1940s Bucky? maybe about him making a bet to date the reader, i mean we all know he was a ladies man, but eventually falling for her and since i always need a bit of angst i thought like she could find out about the bet and got mad a bit maybe? i don’t know if it’s even clear but honestly it’s all up to you, i won’t mind it being different from the request.

Warnings: Bucky is a bit of an asshole, partly because of another asshole named Thomas making a bet with him about reader. A lot of angst when reader finds out this.

Words: c 3,840

*gif not mine!*

“What you honestly don’t remember her?” Steve sighed and Bucky looked at him incredulously.

“Steve, do you honestly think I could forget a dame who looked like that?” he quipped.

“Well I’m tellin’ ya punk she was in our class at school. She didn’t look like that then but I know it was her.”

“Wait, she was the girl who used to sit by herself at lunch and read right?” Bucky suddenly remembered, Steve simply nodded in acknowledgement.

Bucky let his eyes linger on you sipping on a lemonade in your best dress, hair perfectly curled and lips red.

People dancing blurred his line of sight from time to time but he kept his eyes locked on you.

“I wouldn’t waste your time fella,” Thomas who was standing beside Bucky suddenly spoke and Bucky looked questiongly at him.

“She won’t dance with nobody, fellas have been asking for weeks and she turns ‘em all down. We’re reckoning she wants to be a spinster.”

“Well maybe the right guy hasn’t asked her to dance yet?” Bucky smirked wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Or she’s frigid,” Thomas replied and in spite of himself Bucky found himself not quite able to laugh along with him.

“Do you remember her from school?” he asked Thomas, who took a sip of his drink before speaking again.

“Do I? She moved in when we were in what 11th grade? She didn’t speak to anyone, nobody really liked her.”

“She actually seemed quite sweet to me,” Steve interrupted and Thomas cut him off with a mocking smile.

“Maybe you should ask her out then?”

“No,” Steve muttered softly.

“Why don’t you try?” Bucky suggested to Thomas trying to divert the attention from Steve.

“Please,” Thomas scoffed “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“She’s not that bad,” Bucky sighed.

“Five bucks says you won’t go over there and ask her out to dance. Five more says you won’t ask her out to dinner.” Thomas was so smug that Bucky wanted to wipe the smirk right off his face, and a huge part of him felt like he wasn’t being a gentleman by letting Thomas run his mouth about you.

He downed his drink and turned to Thomas with an outstretched hand “Ten bucks?”

“Ten bucks,” he confirmed, shaking his hand.

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In the Back of the Alley [Chanyeol Vampire!AU: Pt.2/3]

Originally posted by yeollovemebaek

1 || 2

It was then you decided to struggle, when you could see how your life would end. And it sure as hell wouldn’t be by your vampire boyfriend. 

You wriggled and shoved and pulled, but only succeeded in making a manic, animalistic gleam come to Chanyeol’s scarlet eyes. In one large hand he seized both of your wrists and pinned them above your head, eventually utilizing his mass to push you against the wall.

“The more you struggle, the worse this is going to be for the both of us, jagi,” he warned solemnly, yet the corners of his mouth quirked up ferally, contradicting his implications. This time the gravity of Chanyeol’s threat got through to you, as you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared for your demise by vampire bite, of all things. “There’s a good girl,” he murmured, ghosting his lips over your rapidly pulsing arteries. You heard a sharp intake of breath by Chanyeol before two pinpricks stabbed into the side of your neck and a soft pair of lips created a seal over them, making your heart rate go haywire, much to his pleasure, as evidenced by his moan. Your eyes flew open, and you saw your boyfriend bent over you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, making contented sucking sounds every few seconds.

As Chanyeol’s lips continued to suck at your neck, the seconds began to stretch into individual infinities, making you dizzy and vitalized all at once. But just as you felt that revelation, the dizziness began to outweigh the surge of pleasure along with the throbbing drum beat of the aching on your neck. Sensing the imminent dangers of blood loss on your feeble body, you focused your blurring line of sight on the figure of the monster-no, your boyfriend, your Chanyeol- in front of you, you drummed up what was left of your draining strength and pushed at his firm chest to get him off so you could survive the night and tear Chanyeol a new one. Upon contact with his cold body and your application of force, your boyfriend turned beast growled at you, the growl of a panther warning other predators from his kill. He crushed his body to your prone form on the wall further, prohibiting any more struggle as he drained the life from you.

In a few sluggish pulses of your heart, dizziness gave way to numbing exhaustion, causing black spots to dance in front of your vision and your body to slump. Had it not been for Chanyeol’s body forcing you to the side of the building, you was sure you’d have collapsed by now.

Chanyeol must have sensed this crumble of your strength, as he released the grip on your mouth and your wrists, replacing his hands on you hips to support you. Slowly, he peeled his body from yours, not breaking his connection with your neck. As your body slid down the wall, Chanyeol used his grip on you to ease you down until you were sprawled under him, propped up against the brick.

Just as your eyelids drooped to accommodate the ever-growing darkness, Chanyeol removed his face from your dully throbbing neck, giving a cooling lick to the aching wounds he had created. A cool, pale hand rose to stroke the side of your cheek, his thumb brushing in gentle circles. It might’ve been from the lack of blood, but you felt placid in his embrace, reassured by his soft touches.

At the same moment, two shadows detached themselves from the alley wall beyond the two of you and distributed themselves in a manner that clearly meant no room for you or the vampire hovering above you to slip past. Even through the haze of hemorrhagic shock, you could tell that they weren’t lost. There was a coordination to the way they spread themselves, and the way that they advanced upon the two of you crouched against the wall that signified a common goal. You gasped slightly, nothing more than a slight inhale in your condition, trying to alert Chanyeol to the dangers that lay ahead.

He placed a hand against your cheek, and pecked your lips chastely. “Doing great so far, jagiya, don’t worry, alright?” he reassured you, not picking up on your signal. By this point, your fear and anger directed at Chanyeol had dissipated, replaced by only a dazed sense of acknowledgement that compelled you to give a shaky nod, placing a hand on your still bleeding neck, and turned your attention to those who stalked down the alley towards you.

Stiffening as he inhaled, scenting the intruders and realizing the situation, Chanyeol rose, turning his back to you, and focused his gaze on the approachers, standing in front of your slouched form in a subtly defensive pose. “Gentlemen,” he greeted them coolly, with a razor sharp undertone that was undetectable to you.

The other men picked up on the undertone, and found it amusing, judging by their twin derisive chuckles. “Someone’s found themselves a mate, haven’t they?” one sneered.

“And a meal,” the other added, scenting your blood on the damp breeze. “Mind if we steal her for a quick bite?”

The two circled around the two of you, in what looked like an attempt to see your face, but Chanyeol made a seemingly casual shift that kept your body out of their line of sight, also keeping you from seeing them.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol refused easily, as if he were talking about passing on a trip to a bar instead of you and your life. “I’m afraid I’ve about tapped her.”

One leaned to the left of him and caught a glance of you, looking you up and down. “She looks like she’s got enough life left,” he noted with a sharp edge, the edge of hunger, you realized dimly.

“Maybe I didn’t make this clear,” Chanyeol corrected smoothly, his tone like honey over a bed of sharp rocks, only barely tampering the razor sharp bite behind his words, clear even to you. “She’s mine. And I’m not the sharing type,” he growled.

“You’re barely a month old,” the one on the right scoffed. “What’s to keep us from taking her from you? We’ve got over a millennium between the two of us.”

“Sheer willpower? Possessiveness?” Chanyeol offered in a tone that you knew meant he was smirking cockily, shifting into a fighting pose to back up his statement. “Take your pick. Either way, you’re not getting near her.” 

I love cliffhangers. Don’t you?

-Admin A 

Relearning (Part One)

Title: Relearning (Part One)

Word Count: 2,755

Warnings: swearing, angst, slight violence 

Summary: Reader goes on a hunt with the Winchesters and gets hurt very badly in the head. She slips into a coma and Cas fixes her. Reader wakes up with no memory of the Winchesters whatsoever.  

Pairing: [Dean x Reader] [Sam x Reader Friendship]


              Dean rested the palms of his hands against the wooden tabletop, his eyes scanning the research laid out in front of him. His lips were pursed together in a tight formation, his eyebrows creasing in concentration. “What if we’re looking at this wrong?”

              Both you and Sam glanced up from your own research, looking over at the eldest Winchester. “How so?” You questioned, your elbow falling onto your knee and chin reposing on the palm of your hand.

              Dean stayed silent for a few beats before pushing his weight up from his previous position, peering over to you and his brother. “I don’t think it’s a demonic omen we’re looking at. I don’t think it’s a demon at all,” he informed, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

              Sam’s brows knitted together in confusion, leaning himself back into his chair, his limbs stretching out to an extent. “What is it then?”

              Dean returned back to his research, pulling a chair along with him, plopping himself down into the stiff furniture. “I think it’s a Draugr.”

              You flicked an eyebrow into a steep arch, standing from your seated post and stalking over to Dean, gazing down at the research spread out. “A Draugr?” you repeated, studying the papers sprawled along the beaten down furniture.

              Dean cleared his throat before opening his mouth to speak. “Uh yeah. It’s an Icelandic Ghoul basically. I’ve never dealt with one personally but dad did back when Sam and I were kids.” Dean flipped aimlessly through his father’s old, leather-bound journal, halting his search when he came upon the page he desired. You turned your attention onto the book, reciting the words scribbled along the crumbled pages in your mind. “It would make sense on how an entire section of that town back in Illinois was infected with a demonic disease. It would make sense how a damn cat killed its owner simply laying on it while the owner slept. Literally crushed to death. And it makes sense with all the livestock mutilations.”

              “How do all of those make sense to you? They have absolutely nothing in common,” you pointed out, crossing your arms and pressing them against your chest, shifting your weight onto your left foot and jutting your hip out. Dean shoved the journal into your hands, pointing to a section on the page silently, raising an eyebrow. “Icelandic Ghouls, also known as the Draugr. (Draugar for plural.) Superhuman strength, can increase/decrease size at will, shapeshift, see into future, control the weather. Very heavy. Can enter dreams of the living, curse a victim and bring disease to villages. Immune to weapons. Two ways to kill them: pushing it back into its grave or cut off its head, burn the body, and dump the ashes into the sea. Livestock, mostly sheep, are targets for the Draugr.” You read word for word what John Winchester had wrote along the paper. “Huh.”

              Dean pressed the rim of his beer bottle to his lips, taking a large sip of the alcoholic beverage. “They’re very rare. I’ve only come across about two other hunters that’s dealt with one of these suckers.”

              “It sure is a specific way to kill ‘em,” Sam piped in, looking up to face his brother. “I mean throw the ashes into the sea? There’s no body of water anywhere near us.”

              “We could flush ‘em,” you spoke, closing the book shut and setting it down onto the table. You reached over to grab your own drink, taking a long swig of it. The beer slid down your throat with a slight burning sensation, the drink satisfying to you. Your eyes darted back and forth from Dean to Sam, an eyebrow raised. “Either that or we drive 300 plus miles just so throw the damn things in the sea.”

              Dean shrugged in response. “Either way, I think I know where it is.” He pushed away a few books and papers away from a large map of Illinois. “All attacks are centered around this stretch of forest.” He his left pointer finger directed to a part of the map with a large, red circle drawn.

              Both you and Sam nodded in response to his words. You set your beer down onto the table before marching over to your duffel bag, checking to make sure you had all your supplies. Once satisfied, you pivoted around on your heel, arching an eyebrow. “Well? You guys ready to torch the sucker and send him on his merry way down into the sewers?”


              You crouched down, your machete and blow torch in both hands. You peered around the corner of the room, your eyes darting around the quarters. The boys and you had come across an abandoned house about five miles into the woods, only to find out that the ghoul had resided there. The stench of rotting corpses of mutilated livestock and probably human flesh brought an unpleasant feeling to you, causing your nose to cringe in disgust. Blood trickled along the walls; some streaks fresh and others dried up. The Winchesters decided that the best plan was to split up: Sam taking the back, Dean taking the front, leaving you to explore the old tornado shelter, other known as the basement. Sam had offered to come with you, but you quickly shoved his gesture off, saying how you could handle it by yourself.

              Your grip tightened against your weapons, inhaling deeply to try to calm yourself down. Hunting had always been an easy task for you, but for some reason you had an off feeling tonight. You fixed your posture to standing in an upright position, rounding the corner only to come in close contact with your target. The Draugr was a towering figure, almost resembling a man, though its skin was a pale blue hue that matched its glowing eyes. Its body was thin, its bones jutting out. Its breath was hot and sticky against your face. Before you were able to react, its hand clasped around your neck, staring at you coldly before flinging your body against the opposing wall. You yelped out in pain, your body falling limply onto the concrete flooring. Your head pounded and vision blurred, black dots dancing across your line of sight. An ear piercing ring sounded in your eardrums, your eyes growing heavy. Blood oozed down the back of your shirt from the new wound on the crown of your head. Blackness engulfed you, the last thing you hearing was your name being called and the sound of a fire burning.


              The white walls and bright lights were becoming far too familiar to the Winchesters. The cold, watered-down coffee and doctors and nurses patrolling the corridors were becoming far too familiar. Far too familiar. Dean stared at the tiled flooring in front of him, his hands falling limply into his lap. His eyes were fixated on nothing, though he gave the impression to be lost in thought. But in reality, his mind was empty. He felt numb. He wished he felt frightened and angry and sad. He wished he would feel something. But instead, the eldest Winchester felt absolutely nothing.

              Sam’s eyes were fixed on his brother, his facial expressions soft and eyes filled with fear. Sam felt frightened and angry and sad. He wished he couldn’t feel anything. He wished he felt numb. He wished he didn’t have the pang of guilt firing in his gut, his mind screaming at him. “You should have gone with her. It’s your fault why she’s here. You should have never left her alone. It’s your fault if she dies!” Sam winced at his own remarks, tearing his gaze away from Dean. His jaw was clenched tightly, angry tears filling to the brim of his hazel eyes.

              “Family for Maddie Weston?” a man called out, Dean and Sam darting their attention onto the man in white, recalling the name they used as an alias for you. The brothers stood from their chairs, Dean hurriedly rushing to the doctor’s side while Sam staggered slowly, his knees growing weaker and weaker with each step.

              “Is she alright?” Dean inquired, his evergreen eyes drowning in a pool of hope, something the hunter rarely had swimming in his irises. Sam stayed silent, staring at the doctor, his heart pumping faster and faster.

              The doctor peered down to his shoes then back up to the brothers. Not a good sign. The doctor paused a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “The swelling in her brain is quite severe. It’s a wonder why she even survived the injury. I fear that Miss Weston has fallen into a coma, and we’re not sure if she’ll awaken or not.”

              Sam’s knees buckled beneath his weight as he stumbled backward, his body falling into a chair. His head bowed, his hands raking through his long hair. Dean remained where he was, his stare hardening. “She might not wake up?”

              The doctor inhaled slowly, withdrawing a long string of air. “It’s unlikely that she will. You both are free to see her if you wish. My deepest condolences.” And with his final words, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the waiting room, leaving the brothers to their own thoughts.

              Dean glanced over at his brother, slowly licking his top lip and desperately trying to swallow the large lump forming in his throat. “Come on, Sammy,” he spoke, barely above a whisper, leisurely venturing down the hallway to your room. Sam shakily stood from his spot, lazily following his brother, his eyes glued to the floor.

              Dean placed a trembling hand on the door handle, twisting it and releasing, the door swinging open. Whatever image he had in his head of you in a hospital bed never would have been the scene he saw before him. Your skin was paler, a breathing tube shoved down your throat. Cuts coaxed your face and machines were connected all around you. An IV was stuck in your forearm. A heart monitor was to your left, the beeping of your heart echoing in the other than that silent room. If the heart monitor had not indicated you being alive, Dean would have pronounced you dead. Easily.  

              Sam walked up to your sleeping form, touching his large hand to your forearm, indicating to you that he and Dean were here, and they weren’t going anymore. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted solemnly, surprising himself that he was able to speak clearly. Sam peered his eyes up quickly to face his brother, exchanging a soulful glance before returning to you. “Dean and I are here. And we’re not going anywhere…” Sam smiled sadly to you, though it immediately shifted into a tight line. “I promise.”

              Dean cleared his throat, drawing Sam’s attention onto him. “Hey, Sammy… can you give me a moment alone with her?”

              “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be outside if you need me.” He patted your arm with affection before walking out of the room, the door clicking behind him.

              Dean remained silent for the pressing moments, grabbing the chair against the wall and bringing it to the side of the bed, falling limply into it. He stared at you with caring eyes, though dots of fear indeed coaxed the evergreen shade. Once Dean laid eyes on you in your hospital bed, the numbness was replaced with a deep sadness and fear. Fear of losing you. He would never be able to forgive himself.

              “I think about our first hunt together a lot. Hell, I think about it all the time. It’s hard to believe that this was what… seven… eight years ago? It’s amazing how time goes by,” he babbled on. “God, you hated me when we first met. What did you call me? Right… a spineless horny douchebag. Can’t really disagree with you, can I?” He released a dry chuckle from his chapped lips, gliding his tongue along across his top lip in attempts of moistening it. “I watched you and Sam bond so… easily. I only played along to the hate charade to so I wouldn’t appear weak. Pathetic, I know.” He sniffled quietly, taking his hand into yours. “But it’s amazing what time can do for us, ya know? I realized how much I actually cared for you. I only went along with the games so you wouldn’t think I was weak. That I didn’t fall for someone easily. But man, if I’m being brutally honest here, I did. I did fall hard. Hard and fast. I hated myself for it.” Dean leaned forward in his chair, wiping away an escaped tear with his thumb. “I told myself that I couldn’t fall for you. I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone else. But I did. And I’m so glad I did.” He hoisted himself up from his position, leaning over your sleeping figure and planted a soft kiss on your forehead. His salty tears padded against your pale features, leaving a small track of tears streaming across your cheek.

              Dean fixed his posture, staring down at you before peering up to the ceiling. “Cas? God I hope you have your ears on,” he began, dragging his hand down his face to dry away his tears. Dean stepped away from your bed, pacing around your room. “I don’t know what to do, man. I can’t lose her. Man, she’s my girlfriend. My best friend. My girl. I can’t keep losing people, Cas. Please… I’m begging you, dude. Help her.” Dean’s eyes fell to the ground, his eyelids enclosing to create the illusion of darkness. But the sound of fluttering wings caused him to open his eyes once more, coming face to face with Cas.

              In silence, Cas slowly approached you, pressing his fingers gently to your forehead. Dean stared in awe, hope riving within his veins.

              “She will be alright.” Cas informed shortly afterwards, gazing over at the eldest Winchester. “She’ll awaken in a short while. Give her time to heal.”

              Dean stayed frozen to his place, his eyes darting from you to Cas. “Thank you, Cas. Thank you so much.”

              The corners of Cas’s lips twitched into an unsteady grin as he bobbed his head.

   Dean smiled widely, mostly to himself, as he walked over to his chair once more, plopping his weight down and grasping onto your hand. He did not need to speak words, for his actions spoke for him. Sparkle erupted in his evergreen hues. His smile was radiating. He was the happiest he could be.


                 A short while later, your eyes slowly fluttered open. You squinted at the blinding light, allowing your pupils to adjust before opening them fully. Your gaze darted around the unfamiliar environment, your mind growing weary. Where were you? What happened? You turned your head to the left to see a stranger sitting next to you with his head bowed, a soft snore sounding through his lips. Who was he? A hoarse cough vibrated through your chest, stirring the man beside you awake.

              The stranger’s eyes burst with life as he stared down at you. He leaned over, gripping down onto your hand with his, a large smile on his face. “Thank God you’re okay, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing his lips onto your pounding temple.

              You grew confused, your eyebrows furrowing with the contact of his lips. He parted, staring down at you with loving eyes before calling two boys in by the name of Sam and Cas. The men answered his call by stepping into the room shortly after, a proud gleam radiating from the taller man. But the man dressed in the trench coat’s head tilted to the right, his blue irises filling with concentration. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, approaching you.

              You slowly sat up as if you were attempting to back away from him. You swallowed hard, your heart monitor slowly beginning to spike to a rapid beating. The man stopped his approach, his mouth hanging open slightly.

              “What’s wrong?” the man standing next to you asked the one in the trench coat, glancing back and forth from you to him. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

              “Sam, go tell Y/N’s doctor she’s awake,” the man in the trench coat—Cas—instructed to the taller man—Sam. Sam stared at you for a few extra beats before rushing out of the room.

              “Cas, what is it?” the unknown male inquired, stepping forward to Cas, his face stern and written with slight fear.

              But before Cas was able to reply, you opened your mouth to speak.

              “Who are you?”


So this is the first one shot that I wrote! I hope you liked it! Request things! Yay.

fic: i’m coming for you and your simple existence

septiplier // Part 1 of the Prequel to my Hitman/Soulmate AU // based on @earthbooty’s Criminal AU art

Author’s Note: This is a prequel to the other pieces I’ve written in this universe, and it details the story of how Mark and Jack first met. This is only part 1, but the second part will be forthcoming very, very soon. I hope you enjoy and I’d like to know if you have any other ideas you’d like to see me add to this universe! I really appreciate feedback!

If you prefer to read on AO3, here.

Part 2 of the prequel: here 

Other parts: 1st, 2nd

Summary: Most soulmates don’t meet in bed at gunpoint.

Jack peeks out the window of his cabin in the woods with trembling fingers, and braces himself for the stuff of nightmares.

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How Shall I Keep You?

Okaayyy so I am SUPER nervous to post this because this is hands down the darkest, most disturbing thing I have ever written. MAJOR WARNINGS on this it creeped me out even WRITING it. This was largely inspired by the MySpace AU (though it is not set in the MySpace AU) and there is vivisection, blood, gore, and Hux straight up KILLS Kylo, I’m not joking DO NOT READ THIS if you are squeamish this is NOT a “fun” piece it is a dark and disturbing bit of horror fiction PLEASE heed the warnings. Dedicated to @greedlingtrash for getting me down this damn rabbit hole :D

Setting: Star Wars Universe, Post Force Awakens
Rating: Excplicit
Pairing: Hux/Kylo Ren
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, GORE, GURO, DEATH/MURDER
Summery: General Hux has turned against the First Order’s Supreme Leader, killing Snoke in a grand coup to seize power and control within the Order. Unfortunately Kylo Ren did not side with him, and he awakens after battle to find himself paralyzed and at the mercy of the very crazed and power hungry Hux….

His eyes fluttered open, reality a blur of colour for a brief moment before it was brought into focus. He could see Hux standing over him, and for one breath it was a comfort. The bright orange of the man’s hair contrasted with the jet black of his uniform the first thing he saw before the blurred lines sharpened to show his face. A familiar sight, welcome in the midst of the fog that clung to his mind like cotton. As his mind sharpened in tandem with his sight, however, he remembered with a rush that this was no longer a friendly face.

Memories came screaming to life in his mind like a tidal wave. He remembered the rush of the Force through his veins, the propulsion of power as he fought. Images sprang to him of the red flash of his lightsaber and the smell of burnt flesh. Kylo Ren was strong, powerful. He was more than a match for most of the First Order turncoats that he fought off like a swarm of angry insects. Death and blood had been all around him, the bitter sting of rage and betrayal still coursing through him. And he remembered the sight of the man who had orchestrated this coup, standing just a little ways distant. The treacherous General who had killed his Master.

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awesomemaple  asked:

KA, apodyopis? :D

Apodyopis – the act of mentally undressing someone

Oh.” Anna’s head slewed around, the floppy brim of her sun hat smacking her sister in the face.

“Ow!” Elsa straightened her sunglasses. “What?”

“Mm?” Anna was leaning over the railing so far that she was standing on her toes, the hem of her summer dress fluttering around her thighs.

“What are you staring at?”

“Huh? Oh! Umm, nothing.” Anna dropped back down onto her heels and smoothed her palms over her skirt. “Nothing, I just think I could use some air, I’m going to go down and walk on pier a little ways. I’ll be back in a minute!”

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Just Another One*Rich Boy AU

Luke Hemmings AU*
writer: Drey
writings    if you’re on mobile, click for masterlist

You were the kind of person his parents would prevent him from associating himself with. It was clear from the moment you had gained a debate scholarship to the most prestigious private high school that you and people like him weren’t meant to mix.

He was an elite and you were just an ordinary middle class person.

Your parents had managed to get a job in upstate Manhattan and had somehow managed to buy a roomy upper middle class house in a suburb near the Hampton manors. You were used to this- moving around due to your parents jobs but this time, your parents had promised you that you would get to spend your last two years of high school in New York and maybe get that scholarship you wanted at NYU. 

Since you were one of the very few people who had gained a scholarship to New York’s most prestigious private school, you were, of course, the target of many upperclassmen in your grade level, often mocking you for not having as much wealth as they have. People thought that the insults you were getting weren’t as bad as the ones victims of rejection got at public high schools but they were wrong. Deadly. 


“Hey, Y/N, you should probably get surgery for that ugly face of yours. Oh wait, you don’t have the money!” some snob yelled at you as you made your way to your locker, tucking your head behind your hair.

The richer girls giggled at you, pointing at you with their fake manicured nails, making their way to their lockers with their designer bags and hairdresser-fixed hair. Your eyes wandered all over the hallway as you looked at all the familiar faces you had nailed to the back of your mind the last 6 months. 

Tears clouded your vision, the blur of the liquid threatening to block your line of sight. You held them back, afraid of another line of mockery coming from your fellow peers. 

Your one and only friend in the school approached you, handing out glares to the people silently giggling at you. 

Casper was just another one of the scholars who got to attend the private school. He got more shit than you on a daily basis since he was gay but he handled the hate better than you ever could. With his witty remarks and venomous icy glares,  it often reminded everyone that he wasn’t a force to be reckoned with if they somehow flipped the switch and got on his bad side.

“Ignore them, crackers. They’re just trying to get to you,” he mumbled pitifully, using your nickname to somehow comfort you.

You hiccuped silently shaking your head in a fast motion, your hair flying everywhere.

“It’s just so hard not to,” you muttered, choking back a sob. 

All you could hear were the murmurs and the whispers of the not-so-nice things said about you and it was the only thing clouding your thoughts at the moment. But a sudden rush of silence filled the halls, your heart stopping for a brief moment in fear of another prank bringing you down.

You brought up your head lightly, low enough to hide your face from everyone else but high enough to see what the cause of the sudden silence was.

Luke Hemmings.

Luke Hemmings was teen royalty, the possible dream boy of every girl in the East and West coast. His family had moved from Australia for hopes of a future for their business and had stayed here ever since, his family’s business now an empire, the holy grail of wealth. 

He was the prince, the heir to the throne and everyone wanted apart in his fairytale, a piece of his fortune. His older brothers had strayed from the family line and went their own way and all there wasleft was Luke, the youngest of 3, so he was expected to take the throne once he graduated from college. 

The girls batted their eyelashes at him as he walked down the hallway, his 3 best friends following him, laughing about somethingthat had happened earlier. Everyone threw themselves at him, either saying a simple ‘hello’ or inviting him over after school.

You rolled your eyes and looked at Casper, nodding at him as your eyes cleared up from the tears that almost fell just a few minutes prior.

“Let’s just go. Please,” you begged quietly.

Casper nodded and held the small of your back, leading you away from the crowded hallway.


You had tried your hardest to keep your mind off of him but as every girl in the school, you had found some sort of interest in the blonde boy. You knew someone like you could never end up with someone as vital as he but somewhere deep inside your mind, you knew you wanted the universe to change its ways so the odds could be in your favor.

You never intended to find the blonde boy attractive but somehow, his cerulean eyes and god-like stature had buried itself in the deep, dark ends of your mind, a hole you could never get out of no matter how hard you tried.

Every girl in their right minds stared longingly at Luke as he stumbled across the auditorium to the stage.

You were sitting on the left wing of the stage watching curiously as Luke approached Casper smiling. 

You were in the auditorium for your first debate of the semester and you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

You watched intently as Luke talked to your best friend, laughter bubbling up between the two before Casper pointed his thumb back, pointing at you. They turned up at you, Casper waving a 'hello’, Luke following his move.Something froze inside you as you thought of what you would do. 

After what seemed like an hour mentally, you raised your hand to give a simple wave as the corner of your lips slightly turned up, feeling your cheeks heat up. You ducked your head back down to the paper you were trying so hard to focus on, looking back up for a millisecond only to see Casper’s back turned towards you and Luke still looking at you, a smile etched on his face. 

The girls near your spot on the stage had seemed to notice this small signal, sending daggers your way as they closed in on each other and started whispering and giggling. You couldn’t help but to smile at that; you were too busy thinking about that smile sent in your direction.

Your debate teacher, a short woman with mousy black hair and glasses, stood in front of the stage, a clipboard in her grasp as she explained what the class was going to spend the next hour and a half doing.

“Alright, kids, settle down we’re going to start. Each of you will be able to participate and go against each other. Each argument will last 5 minutes and whoever has the most reasonable points will stay and if you are eliminated, the next person in your line will come up and go against the winner of the last round. Whoever remains last will be able to gain extra credits for the class. Let’s begin.”

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anonymous asked:

18, souharu?

“Things you said when you were scared.”

I know people wanted more mer!haru and cop!sousuke so have Haru saving his boyfriend.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, Sousuke thinks, as he struggles for breath.  He gasps as he tries to keep his mouth above the icy water.

He’s cold; so cold it’s a struggle to even to move his body at all. He stopped being able to feel his limbs minutes ago, and his vision is slowly growing more and more blurry.  He knows he’s going to lose consciousness soon, and that will be it…

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Imagine Barry Allen

Originally posted by kiserinu

Requests Are Open

Imagine being Leonard’s adoptive daughter and taking up his mantle while he’s away, much to the surprise of Barry as he is trying to apprehend you mid-heist.

A/N: I haven’t seen Legends yet, so I apologize for any errors that may be in the imagine.

Edit: Wrote a prequel of when Barry and reader first meet.

You were sure that the silent alarm had gone off by now, but you didn’t really care, you were having too much fun. Taking aim with the cold gun that had been left in your care, you took a shot at a nearby display case, taking pleasure in the sound of shattering glass as the shards rained on the floor. You spent a good five minutes in that same employment before a beep from your watch brought you back to what you were supposed to be doing at the museum. You were on a job and you needed to get it done.

With a sigh you turned your attention away from your next victim and to the display case that held what you were here for. It didn’t take long for you to extract the contents from the case and start picking your way through the shattered glass towards the door. That’s when the gust of wind accompanied by a red blur passed across your line of sight and came to a stop behind you.

“Put the jewels back, Cold?” Barry demanded.

You slowly turned around so that Barry could see your face, “Guess again.”

Barry stared at you in astonishment, “(Y/N)?”

“I should really get Cisco to think a name up for me,” You murmured to yourself before looking up at Barry, “Hey, Bar.”

“What are you doing here?”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “Dad’s out of town, so he needed me to take over the family business until he gets back.”

Barry glanced around the room, taking in the wreckage from your little joy ride with the cold gun before glancing back up to you, “Was all that really necessary?”

“Necessary? No. Fun? Yes.” You replied with a mischievous grin.

Barry’s gaze hardened, “You really shouldn’t be doing this (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, so please, just put back what you took.”

Sticking your bottom lip out, you pretended to pout for a moment, “You’re no fun, Barry.”

“I might not be fun, but I’m trying to keep you out of prison.” From the tone of his voice, you could tell that Barry was starting to get frustrated with you.

You pondered what he said for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh and tossing him the bag that was filled with the jewels you had taken, “Fine, but only because you’re cute when you get all bossy. But now, I’ve really got to go.”

Without a second glance you were out the door and on your motorcycle. Once you were far enough away you took something out of your pocket and smiled. “Lets hope Barry doesn’t check that bag any time soon.” You said to yourself with a chuckle as you redeposited the jewels into the pocket and sped away.

Strange Magic Dream World AU

A prompt from @whimsicalitywheee:

Bog as the king of dreams, who has kidnapped Dawn because she accidentally stole a rose from the dream world and marianne coming to rescue her through the tricky world of dreams Ala the sandman series style :)

It’s more of Labyrinth/Mirror Mask than anything else and it’s just something I scrawled out this evening. So … it’s terrible. Non-linear and disgustingly artsy. Discuss.

Not all dreams are pleasant

“I was expecting someone else.”

“Yes, you have to be careful about that. Expecting things, I mean.”

Marianne scrubbed her tired eyes with the cuff of her jacket, the gesture only succeeding in brushing grit into her her eyes. She tried again, rubbing with her fists, but the crust of blood and dirt on her knuckles scraped across her eyelids, scratching the delicate skin and riling her ever-shortening temper.

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