booth couch

When We Collide (Part 5)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: PG-All

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand?

”No way! Seriously? They really kicked you out of college?”

You rolled your eyes and glared over at Nicole for being the gossip snitch, something she had been her whole life but you really had wished she would have kept this to yourself just for a while. It was, after all, pretty humiliating when you thought about it.

“You sound like you’re surprised, Joey.” You commented with a glimpse in the eye and lifted your beer up to your mouth, letting the taste explode your senses and cool down your pre-sweating forehead.

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The snowball PART 2!

Okay so I don’t write heaps but I did find it within myself to write a Feysand fic ages ago and thanks to people being persistent, that one shot is now getting another chapter, so thanks to anyone who reblogged, favourited, or messaged me because if not for you I would never have made my brain attempt to write again.



Feyre woke up early that morning, the cold air seeming to find her even underneath her mountain of quilts. She stretched out sleepily seeking Tamlin’s warmth, only to find his side of the bed stone cold empty. Again.

She didn’t know why she was surprised. Already knowing when she opened her eyes there would be new paint, or canvas, or painting references gifted for her at the end of the bed. This repetitive pattern had become her life, no matter how close it was to Christmas. Tamlin’s job was very important which Feyre knew all too well due to the constant lectures she'd received whenever she brought up to Tamlin her unease at him being away so much.

But Feyre could never push too hard. Complain too much. Because Tamlin was one of the most important people in her life, and he was also the man sending money back to her family a few towns over. Family who never came to visit, or ask where Feyre was getting all their money from, so long as she continued to send it. Even if her family wasn’t grateful for Tamlin, Feyre was. Which was why she was so sad about his constant disappearances.

Lying in bed all day left Feyre impatient and eventually she shrugged on an old hoodie of Tamlin’s and some fuzzy slippers, grabbing her car keys in search of some good coffee. Outside her old, but in surprisingly good condition, car sat waiting for her. Tamlin had gotten it for her from a “friend” he had claimed had no need of it and gave him a good price. Just another thing that Feyre was grateful for.

Driving slowly because of the recent snow, Feyre went looking for the closest Starbucks. Just a few blocks down she saw the line outside the coffee shop before the actual store. She parked nearby but the second Feyre stepped outside she knew it was too cold to wait around outside in line for a damn coffee, and she needed caffeine now.

Across the road she noticed a small and dark café advertising “hot coffee, better than those jerks at Starbucks” on a small chalkboard outside. The sign made Feyre laugh but more than anything, the lack of an outside line lured her in.

The shop was called ‘Coffee For Mor’ and Feyre wasn’t sure if there was a secret meaning she was missing out on but all of that was forgotten when she went inside. The place was dark with just enough lighting on each table for reading and plenty of concealed booths and couches plagued with a healthy amount of young people. The entire back wall had been painted with a chalkboard like substance and had been decorated by customers with everything from cute little doodles, to crude drawings of… well doodles.

But best of all it was warm and smelt amazing.

Feyre was greeted by a beautiful and chirpy blonde haired woman at the counter.

“Morning! Bit cold today, hey? Felt like my nipples were gonna put holes in my shirt just walking to work!” The woman laughed.

Feyre’s taken aback look just made the woman laugh more.

“Haven’t seen you around in here before. What’s your order, and what’s your name?” She said sweetly, maybe trying to not scare Feyre out of the shop altogether.

“Um, I’m Feyre. And I’ll grab a large anything, as long as it’s got caffeine in it.”

“Feyre huh? You look like you could grab a large anything hey?” The woman said with a wink before outstretching her arm for a handshake, “I’m Mor. Nice to meet a new face.”

Feyre had to hold back her laugh as she shook Mor’s hand.

“so are you the owner of this place then?” Feyre said, noting the familiar name.

“Yes Mam. Started this place with the help of my cousin although he never sticks around to actually help, the bastard,” Mor laughed. “Anyway, I’ll make you one of the house specials, just because I like you. It’ll be $5.”

Feyre started scrounging through her purse counting out small change, and recounting it. $4.95 was all she had. She looked up to tell Mor to change her order but to her horror the drink was already in front of her in a take away cup, name on it and all, surrounded by a love heart.

“Uhm, I’m so sorry but I’m 5 cents short. Is it too late to ask for a medium?”

Mor looked her over, “No card?”

“Um no. My boyfriend normally just gives me cash when I need it, but he’s out of town right now.”

Mor looked her over once more. A hard gleam in her gaze. Feyre felt like she was about to be chased out of the coffee shop.

“Tell your boyfriend to let you have access to your own money whenever you want it. This one’s on the house. Don’t sweat it hun.”

“Oh my god are you sure? You can take all the change. It’s not my money anyway, it’s all my boyfriend’s,” Feyre said, pushing the heap of coins at Mor, only to have it pushed back into her hands.

“Seriously Feyre it’s fine. Consider it my condolences for your piss weak boyfriend. You shouldn’t have to rely on someone else for money, that’s when you lose your control,” Mor smiled sweetly.

Feyre accepted the money sheepishly, before taking a sip of her coffee. It was so good she actually moaned. Mor laughed.

“Now there’s a girl who loves her coffee. Say, why don’t you come work for me a couple times a week? Then you can have your own money,” She beamed.

“Oh. Uhh. Thank you so much! It’s just I don’t think Tamlin would like that.”

At Tamlin’s name Mor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Do, do you know Tamlin?” Feyre stammered.

“Not really. Just heard of him. Now I really think you should take the job, just to piss off that tool.”

Feyre bristled slightly. If Mor didn’t really know Tamlin she had no right to make fun of him like that, especially with all that he had done for Feyre’s family. But it would be nice for Feyre to get out of the house and have her own money. She knew Tamlin loved buying her things. He would never deny her anything, money wise. but it wasn’t the same as having her own money.

Mor seemed to sense her hesitation, “All employees get free coffee,” she teased.

“Done.”

The two shook hands again, as the door was blasted open and a tall man shouldered his way inside, shaking snow off his boots. Feyre froze when violet eyes met hers from the open doorway.

The Turquoise Tiger-Jordan Parrish

Valentine’s Collection:#7

Teen Wolf Imagine:#106

Word Count: 806

Warnings: None that I can think of?

SummaryAlways take your first date dancing.

A/n: My first Parrish writing! Ahhhh this is so exciting. I had a lot of fun writing this. Actually their is a club/lounge called the Turquoise Tiger where I live (That’s how I got the name actually and description and picture) I plan on going sometime after my birthday in June. It’s not a Jazz club (anymore it was a few years ago but they redid everything) but it’s still beautiful and fun. Also Stilinski!Reader.

@joeynihil (I know you didn’t ask to be tagged but we’ve talked before about underappreciated Parrish soooo I thought you might like to know I wrote some Jordan)

Originally posted by sherrykinss

Masterlist

Coming Soon

Last Imagine

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6

October 21st, 2013 - Happy 3rd Wedding Anniversary Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth ♥♥♥

kids of the in-between: ch. 1

I know I was going to hold off on posting the first chapter of my artist!ronan fic until I finished writing the entire story, but someone told me it was pynch week this week and I couldn’t help myself! Expect new chapters about once a week.

Summary:  A story of fast cars, discarded dreams, blinding rage, pencil sketches, and finding happiness. Not necessarily in that order.

Trigger warnings: gory descriptions and character death (only in the last section)

Read all parts: on tumblr | on ao3


Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III.

Ronan looked at the name plaque next to his door with raised eyebrows. He couldn’t decide whether the name amused or annoyed him more. It didn’t surprise him, though. After all, this was the dorm of the filthy rich, the domain of the freshmen whose parents were wealthy enough to add a generous donation to the already-exorbitant tuition. Ronan wouldn’t have bought into it, but it was also the only freshman dorm with suites instead of doubles, and there was no way in hell he was going to share a room with someone. If he had to suffer through the presence of Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III in order to be alone when it mattered, then he would. Besides, it wasn’t like his dad had minded spending the extra money. 

“Oh, hello. Is this your suite too?” The voice behind him was almost painfully polite, crisp and commanding with the slightest twang of old Virginia buried beneath the surface. It made Ronan’s ears itch. 

He turned and raised his eyebrows at the salmon polo shirt and new boat shoes that immediately assaulted his vision. “Dick?”

Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III winced, and the old Virginia twang was gone when he said, “Please, call me Gansey.”

A slow smile slid across Ronan’s face as he marveled at how quickly Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III had offered him a loaded gun in the form of a name. “Ronan,” he responded before turning back around, unlocking the door to their suite, and waiting. Waiting to hear Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III’s voice slide back into its Virginian accent, waiting to feel Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III’s silent judgment as he stared at the obscene combat boots and obscene band t-shirt and obscene faded jeans that surely went against everything his khaki pants and flawless haircut stood for, waiting to use his loaded gun as soon as Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III insulted him first.

But then Richard “Dick” Campbell Gansey III did none of those things. Instead, he leaned forward and splayed his fingers across Ronan’s back in order to flatten his shirt before saying excitedly, “Is this written in Irish?”

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anonymous asked:

heres a prompt. post channel changing gabe and sam started dating. gabe takes acting like theyre not involved way too far in front of dean, which pretty much spells out too "gabe-flirts-with-other-people-to-make-sam-jealous"

oh god i rewrote this fic like fifty times and this was the only one that was decent enough to post and even this isn’t that great i’m so sorry 

So, basically, Sam and Gabriel had been hooking up since the whole saga when the archangel had dumped the Winchesters in TV Land.

Now, said archangel and hunter liked to pretend that the their hooking up wasn’t painfully obvious so, to preserve their pride, Dean hadn’t said anything about it. He couldn’t help but feel slightly offended by the fact that they thought he was oblivious though because, come on, did they actually think he was that stupid? Sam wasn’t exactly small, and the bedsprings in Sam’s mattress weren’t exactly quiet, and did they really believe that Dean would buy the, “Oh, by the way, Gabriel just dropped in for breakfast!” excuse every single goddamn morning?

Even Cas had noticed that Gabriel and Sam were acting weirdly. When Cas had inquired about the pair’s relationship, Dean had, like the freakin’ amazing brother he was, told the angel to just drop it. Cas, of course, had listened.

But now, as Dean, Sam and Gabriel sat around the cheap plastic table in the cheap plastic diner sipping beer from cheap plastic cups, Dean’s patience had been worn down to the width of an ant’s eyelash.

He was sandwiched between the pair, all three men on one booth couch because every other option resulted in Sam and Gabe either sitting next to or opposite each other—which, of course, was totally out of the question for two guys who had a Purely Platonic Relationship.

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Sugar on the Asphalt: Thirty-Three (Preview)
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Just a quick preview of the next chapter! It will be posted in full tomorrow, February 6th!

Previous chapters

***

“There’s me Buttercream Beauty!” Niall was laying on the couch, hands folded behind his head as he grinned over at me. He looked like he’d just woken up, hair sticking up in every direction and clothes wrinkled. “Are those cupcakes?”

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anonymous asked:

4/4 blurb on cuddling with each boy when they're sleepy after a great show

Aww this so cute!!

Ashton: Ash would be the last one off the stage, trying to soak in every every ounce of adrenaline pumping inside of him after playing an amazing show. He’d come running straight to you with a huge smile on his face as soon as he’d see you standing in the wing. He’d quickly wrap his big, strong arms around you tightly, rubbing his hands up and down your back, embracing you in a very sweaty hug. You’d feel his heart pumping heavy in his chest against yours, and you would just want to hold him there for a little while. He’d kiss the top of your forehead and rest his head on top of yours, waiting for his breathing to slow down.

Luke: After a show Luke wouldn’t really be one for going out, so he would much rather just take you back to the hotel. As soon as you’d get back, the both of you would just collapse on the bed in your regular clothes. Luke would roll over and wrap his arms around you to sort of cradle you. The two of you would lie there for a little bit without words, thinking about the night’s concert. You’d probably speak first telling him what a great show he had put on. You wouldn’t be able to see it, but you would feel his breath against your neck as his smile would widen. The two of you would eventually get more comfortable and strip off some of your clothes before getting under some cozy blankets, while continuing to talk about your favorite parts of the concert until you’d both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Michael: Back on the tour bus, Michael would have you sit in his lap while he wrapped his arms around your front while you’d watch him play a few video games before bed. It’d be fun to watch, because whenever he’d do something good he’d shout in celebration and happily kiss at the back of your neck. This would go on for a few hours before you’d both be too tired to keep your eyes open. You’d be getting ready to sleep on the bus couch, but he’d ask you to share his bunk with him because he’d want to cuddle with you. The two of you would adjust closely together in the small bunk in a spoon shape. He’d rub his hands up and down your sides and kiss lightly at your shoulders before the two of you would fall asleep.

Calum: Calum would probably still feel very pumped up after a show, and would want to take you out for a little bit to celebrate. He’d probably wrap his arm around you protectively when first entering the club, and would happily lead you the bar to order some drinks. The two of you would chat and dance a little, taking in all the excitement going on around you. However, after a while you’d both start to feel a little tired. Calum would take your free hand and lead you to a private couch booth towards the back of the club. He’d insist that you sit between his legs, and you would rest your head comfortably against his chest. He’d mindlessly play with you hair between your fingers while the two of you chatted about the concert and other various topics.