brought to you by the count of space

Butterfly Wings


“Keith what if this is a bad idea! What if we mess them up what if-“

Lance was cut off my Keith taking his hands. “Lance babe light of my life, shut up. We both agreed this is what we wanted.”

Lance took a long shuddering breath.

Him and Keith had been married five years now. They decided to take the next step…

“I know but… what if I mess them up?” Lance asked looking alarmed as the timer counted down to the last ten seconds.

“Your amazing, and whatever happens I know we can handle this.” Keith smiled kissing Lance on the cheek.


About a month ago Lance had brought up how much he missed home and being surrounded by a big happy family.

That brought on Keith to ask if Lance ever wanted to have kids.

“I’d be lying if I said I never wanted them but beyond finding a space adoption agency we don’t really have many options.” Lance sighed.

“Actually I may be able to help you with that.” Coran announced.


So that’s how Keith and Lance found themselves having their dna added together to have a baby like they wanted.

It had been a long month of anxious waiting.

Keith had to practically drag Lance to bed after a week of refusing to leave the incubation room.

Lance was beyond excited and just couldn’t wait to meet his new son or daughter.

Now as the final seconds ticked down Lance was of course still excited but also terrified.

“No matter what Keith… I love you and I’ll love the baby.” Lance said as he held Keith’s hand as the pod hissed open.

“Ah I can’t look!” Lance yelled turning away.


He didn’t turn around. He just couldn’t do it just yet!

“Lance seriously look at her.”

Lance turned around to see Keith holding a tiny baby in his arms. He felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at her.

She had tufts of black hair and deep purple eyes that seemed to look right into Lance’s souls.

He felt tears form in his eyes as he reached out with shaking hands to take his daughter.

“Oh God shes so beautiful.” Lance sobbed as he smiled even wider.

Her skin was tanned with a scattering of pale marks going on a diagonal line across her face. He little arms and chest also had the splattering of pale.

“She’s like me.” Lance laughed kissing her on the forehead.

“Yeah, I could t of hoped for better.” Keith put his arm around his husbands shoulders. “She needs a name.”

“I know the perfect one.” Lance smiled.”

He shifted her in his arms “how about Mariposa.”

Keith hugged Lance just a little tighter “that’s perfect. Our beautiful little butterfly.”

still need you || damon salvatore

author: @broodybell
pairing: damon x reader
word count: 1,803

warnings: blood, death, angst. bring tissues???

authors note: i’m finally writing for tvd and to, but i am only just starting season 5 of tvd so, bare with me!! (gif creds to owner)

summary: damon has been feeding reader his blood without her knowledge, and her worst fear is brought into reality. 

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Park Chanyeol//Feasible - Part 4

Originally posted by megglesbagels

Prompt: You’re a work-for-hire girl - for the criminals and criminally rich. Your job is to threaten, steal from, frighten or hurt whoever you’ve been employed to - but your newest job involves a person you swore you’d never talk to again. Someone who brought you into this entire business - and tried to get you out. Someone who, should you accept this challenge, would open a Pandora’s box of disaster…( 1/ 2/ /3 //5 /6)
Scenario: AU, angst, miniseries
Word Count: 2,771

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2am (M)

Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Namjoon is stressed out in the studio and needs your help 

A/N: this was requested and I’ve never really written smut like this before so I hope its good. 

The sound of your ringtone brought you out of your deep, dreamless sleep. Without opening your eyes - mostly because you couldn’t - you stick your arms under your pillow, searching for your phone that was buried somewhere in the space around you. Brushing your fingers against something solid, you tug it out from underneath the pillows, and crack an eye open to see who was calling you at this god forsaken hour, groaning when the light of your phone screen blinds you.

Glimpsing Namjoon’s name, you answer the call, grateful for the dimness that the dark calling screen provides.

“Hello?” you murmur sleepily, your eyes sliding closed as the urge to go back to sleep overwhelms you.

“Baby,” Namjoon speaks, his voice sounding a little bit hoarse. Probably because it was ass o'clock in the morning.

“Hmm?” Forming words becomes increasingly difficult, as does staying awake enough to listen to your boyfriend, hoping that he called you for something important at this late.

“Baby, I need you,” he whines on the other end.

You can’t help but sigh. “With what?”

On the other end, Namjoon sits in his studio, barely suppressing a groan at the huskiness of your voice. “Come to the studio, please.”

“It’s late,” you tell him, forcing your eyes to open.

Your boyfriend was fucking horny, you thought irritably. You wished you could say you were surprised at him calling you late at night, begging you to come to the studio to get him off, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened. It wouldn’t be the last, either. Namjoon was in the studio busting his ass to create new content for the comeback that the boys were planning, and sometimes the stress got the better of him, blocking his creative process. When it did, he would go to you, seeking on outlet to for all the stress that tended to build up. And being the good girlfriend you were, you would always go out to help him out, even at ridiculous hours, knowing that he always gave back to you tenfold the next chance he got.

You would be lying if you said that it didn’t get on your nerves, since he would mess with your sleeping schedule like he did to his own, but you could never say no. Not when you could hear the exhaustion through the phone, tinged with frustration, or seeing worry lines marring his handsome face whenever he facetimed you. Namjoon led a highly stressful life, and you didn’t want to add to it by playing in petulant girlfriend. You wanted to be his pillar of support, someone he could go to when he needed someone to lean on, or to listen to his problems, or just to suck him off in the studio so that he can relax a little. Joon owned your entire heart, and he’d give you the world if you asked, the least you could do was be a haven away from his stressful one.

“I’ll send a taxi to pick you up,” he bargained, his tone edging desperation. “Please, baby, I can’t think straight.”

“When was the last time you ate?” you asked, forcing yourself upright and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“I can’t remember, but we’re supposed to be on a diet.”

“I’ll bring you some snacks,” you promise, shuffling out of your warm bed, feeling yourself become more alert as you exposed yourself to cold air. “And water too, you have to stay hydrated.”

“You’re too good to me,” he mused.

You could hear the smile on his face. “It’s because I love you.”

“I know, baby. See you when you get here.”

The line went dead as he hung up, probably calling a cab for you. Stretching out your limbs, you pull on a pair of pajamas and dawdle to the kitchen to gather up a few things for Namjoon to eat. You hoped he would let you listen to what he was working on.

“Joon?“ you call out quietly, peeking your head into his studio.

Namjoon was hunched over at his desk, staring blankly at the monitor sitting in front of him. At the sound of his name, he turned to the doorway to see you stepping inside and carefully shutting the door behind you. Relief filled him at the sight of you, as if your presence alone activated all the happy chemicals inside his body. You smiled as you approached him. He noted that you were wearing one of his hoodies, observing how cute you looked drowning in the fabric. He especially loved how you managed to make batman pajama pants and black vans look good.

He opened his arms to embrace you, taking the plastic bag out of your hands to place it on his desk before pulling down into his lap, holding you tight against him. It had been more than a few days from the last time you two had seen each other, since he had pretty much started living in the studio while he composed. Namjoon always seemed to miss you when he did return home for a shower and a nap, as you worked a regular 9-5 job. He buried his face in the fabric of his jersey, noting how it mostly smelled like you.

"I’ve missed you,” he spoke into your jersey, his voice muffled.

“I’ve missed you too, Joonie,” you coo sweetly, gently running your fingers through his hair and against his scalp.

Namjoon shivered at the feeling of your fingers gently massaging his scalp. It reminded him of the times you two would shower together and you would wash his hair for him, massaging your fingers into his scalp as you lathered the shampoo through his hair. Having you wash his hair had to be one of his favourite things in the world. It even came close to you swallowing his entire length in your hot mouth.

“Baby,” he whispered, looking up at your face as you stared down at him with a soft expression. “Please.”

You didn’t even have to hear him say the words to know what he was asking. You could feel his question pressing against your thigh, wondering how long he had been like this. Namjoon’s libido wasn’t as high as everyone expected it to be. Sure, he had the mind of a pervert, but that didn’t mean he had the stamina to match. When he was in a mood, he was in a mood, but it wasn’t all that often. Those days were saved for when he’d leave for tour, or for schedules overseas as you liked to give him something to think about while he was gone. But for the most part, Namjoon worked long hours, he was tired when he came home, and he was always faced with decision with sleep or sex. It was 50-50 most days.

“You have to eat after,” you tell him with a stern voice as you moved off his lap and onto the floor between his legs. “And stay hydrated too. Water is better for staying focussed longer than coffee.”

You boyfriend stared down at you in anticipation, pupils so far dilated that there was hardly any colour left.

“I swear to god I’m going to marry you one day. You’re the only person who would tell me to take care of myself right before you suck me off,” his voice had taken a darker tone, with a husky lilt as he watched you tie your hair out of your face.

The innocent smile you threw him only served to turn him on more as your reached to unbutton his pants. “I don’t want a pre-nup, I want to take all of your money when you piss me off enough that I leave.”

“Only if you let me come over to your house every weekend to see the kids so that I can make you fall in love with me again.”

You chuckled as you pulled his pants down enough to take his cock out. Namjoon helpfully lifted his ass up off the chair so you could push his pants down past his knees, not liking when they would get in your way. His cock sprung out of his pants, and you noted that he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Typical, you thought as you gripped him in one hand, smirking when he hissed from the contact.

“How long have you been hard?” you asked, giving him a few loose strokes, watching his relax from relief as he slowly let the pleasure overwhelm him.

“Too long,” he answered, slightly breathless. “Please don’t tease.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you smile up at him, making sure he was watching as you opened your mouth and sunk down on him.

Namjoon threw his head back and let out a loud groan, slumping back in his chair from the raw relief that you provided, as well as the pleasure that burned hot inside of him. You were way too good for him, he’d never let himself forget it. Here you were, down on your knees in front of him at two in the morning after he had woken you up, sucking him off without him even having to ask you to do so.

He bucked up into your mouth when you had fit as much of him in your mouth as possible, and hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked, making sure to run your tongue along the underside of his cock. His hands immediately came up to grip your head when you did so, forcing you down to swallow more of his cock, praising you as you obeyed, gagging as you struggled.

“You can do better than that,” he scolded, letting you come up for air, still enjoying the way your hand ran up and down his cock while you caught your breath, tightening as you reached the head. “Let me fuck you face.”

You took a deep breath. “Let me deep throat you first,” you consented.

A moan escaped Namjoon at your words as you lowered your mouth onto him once more, not stopping once he hit the back of your throat. You had slowed your pace, relaxing your throat as you eased more of his cock into your mouth. Namjoon made you stop, holding your head still as he shallowly thrusted into your mouth, hissing at the way your throat would tighten around him. Slowly, he pushed your head down further as he gently bucked up in your warm mouth, eyes screwing shut when he felt your tongue run along the underside of his cock.

You breathed through you nose, ignoring the burning in your throat, and the tears beginning to prickle in your eyes. Your discomfort wasn’t a priority right now, you reasoned, throat tightening around him once again as you reached the base of his cock, trying not to focus on how it seared your throat, or how your knees were beginning to throb.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he groaned, holding your head still as he lifted his hips, forcing as much of cock into your mouth as possible. “So good, so fucking good, fuck.”

He didn’t let you go as he suddenly stood out of his chair, his hands holding your head tight so as to not dislodge him from your throat. You looked up at him with wide eyes, excitement rushing through your veins, and arousal settling between your legs. He stared down at you, smirking as he saw the tears threatening to fall, and your face turning red as you struggled to breathe with his cock crammed down your throat.

“I’m going to fuck your face now,” he informed you, not giving you much time to answer before he pulled himself out of your mouth partially, enough to let you get a breath in, before ramming himself into your mouth again, this time with much more force than before.

There was nothing for you to do but to grip his thighs, and relax your throat for the brutal intrusion of his cock being rammed as far as he could go with every harsh thrust of his. Namjoon gripped your head in his hands, messing up your pony tail as he fingers threaded through the strands of your hair. Breathing through your nose had become a struggle as he seemed to force the air out of you with every thrust.

You held the hem of his shirt up so that it wouldn’t fall into your eyes, lightly scratching your nails against his abdomen. He rewarded you with a particularly hard thrust when you dug your nails in harder against the flesh of his stomach. It was difficult for you to try not to gag anymore as his cock bruised your throat with his hard pace. But that only served to please him more since it would cause your throat to tighten around him much more violently than before.

All the while he moaned and groaned, praising you for taking his cock so well, and for letting him fuck your face. Namjoon was most definitely not quiet in bed, as he always loved to let you know how good you were making him feel, not bothering to keep his sounds quiet. Whenever the two of you fucked when you weren’t supposed to, it was always him that had trouble keeping his mouth shut, opposed to you who could come without making a sound. Because of this, Joon had made if his personal mission to do everything he could to get you to be as loud as possible when he had the time and energy, which always included overstimulation and multiple forced orgasms. It was sweet, sweet torture that you could never say no to.

Namjoon looked down at you, watching the way his cock would disappear into your mouth to the depths of your throat, taking perverse satisfaction in the tears that had started to slip down your cheeks. You stared up at him, unable to stop the tears that escaped, the two of you maintaining eye contact as he fucked your throat, probably bruising your oesophagus in the process. You stared at each other with uncontained lust, watching the other as Namjoon slowly started to lose control of himself, feeling himself near his orgasm.

Knowing that he was going to come soon, you dug your nails into whatever skin of his you could reach, purposefully forcing your throat to close around his cock every time he pushed into your throat not caring how painful it was. Namjoon could feel the sensation building as his balls tightened in anticipation. His thrusts got harder and sloppier as he neared his orgasm, eyes screwing shut as the feeling threatened to overwhelm him. You pressed your tongue up against his cock, massaging the ridges and veins that you could reach.

With one last deep groan, Namjoon pinched your nose shut, and reaching to grip your throat, not letting any air through as he buried himself to the hilt, thoroughly enjoying the way you gagged and tightened around him.

“Take it,” he demanded, staring down you with dark eyes. “Take my cock, baby, take it. Make you swallow all my cum.”

You couldn’t stop gagging around him, especially when he had started coming down your throat. You throat was closing around him as you struggled for air, unable to do nothing but swallow all his cum as it spurts out from his cock, deep into your throat. You couldn’t even taste it, that’s how far he was in your throat. Namjoon shuddered above you as you sucked around him, milking him for everything that he had. When he was sure that he had no more come to give you, did he release you, falling into the chair behind him from exhaustion as you rocked back onto your ass, sucking in deep breaths.

Seeing you on the floor, taking heavy breaths and massaging your throat, Namjoon quickly pulled his pants back up before reaching to grab a water bottle from inside the plastic bag you had brought. Unscrewing the top off, he had offered it to you, watching in concern as you drank hesitantly from the bottle still trying to catch your breath.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Namjoon fussed, helping you up of the floor.

He pulled you onto his lap again, softly stroking your arms and hugging your body against his own as you leaned again him, throat burning painfully, chest heaving while you were trying to catch your breath.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, your voice cracking slightly from being thoroughly fucked. “Do you feel better?”

Namjoon swore he could’ve cried from the way you were softly running your fingers along his cheek, knowing that your throat was probably sore because of him. Still, he didn’t hear one complaint from you as you sipped at the water bottle he had given you, silently offering it to him.

“Yes baby, I feel much better. Your amazing, really, thank you,” he kissed the top of your head, taking the water bottle from you and sucking down half of it in one breath.

You yawned, exhaustion forcing your eyes to slowly drift shut now that all the excitement was over. “I’m so tired, I’m too lazy to go home, can I sleep here? I’ll go back in the morning.”

“You won’t have a good sleep, you know the couch is uncomfortable,” he reminded you, frowning when you got off his lap and dawdled over to the couch.

“I don’t even care right now, I’m so tired I could sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll wake you up in a few hours so that you can go home and have a proper sleep in your own bed.”

You yawned once again, curling into a ball on the couch. “Mmhmm, make sure you eat your snacks,” you mumbled sleepily.

“I promise the next time I get a chance, I’ll eat you out for a whole hour,” his words went unheard by you, as you were already asleep before he could finish his sentence.

Snickering quietly, Namjoon grabbed his jacket that was hanging off the back of his chair, gently draping it over you to keep you warm.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before moving back to his desk, his mind free from all the stress, and able to compose properly again.

Done Chapter 2: Chin up

Alright its time for chapter two! Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged, commented and given kudos to this fic. I read all of your tags and comments and it gave me so much joy and inspiration to get this chapter completed. Anyways I know the last chapter was really short even for a sort of prologue, but this chapter is much longer which hopefully you’ll enjoy.

Also a quick shout out to c00kieneko who is the whole reason I started writing in the first place, mostly because we started throwing head canons at each other. Go look at her art! she’d so good! 

read it on a03

Chapter 1/Prologue / Chapter 3

Lance woke up clutching his pillow in a tight grip hours earlier than he intended to. Closing his eyes again tightly he attempted to force himself back into unconsciousness, but he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Giving up the losing battle for sleep he rolled onto has back and tried his best not to think.

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Worth The Risk {Part 04}

Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky knew that all Steve wanted was for him to get along with her, but was it really worth the risks?

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 05 / Part 06 / Part 07 / Part 08 / Part 09 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 

Word Count: 1345
Warnings: swearing, mild violence, angst (?), probably gonna be sad

(gif originally by @xllxni aka me which is why it’s so shitty lmao)

A few weeks in to Bucky’s treatment and you had made yourself comfortable at T’challa’s hide out. Maria Hill had sent out some work for you to get through during your stay and you’d also managed to find space in one of the labs to help around in order to keep yourself busy. You’d finished all the books you’d brought along long ago.

Bucky and Steve spent almost all of their days working through Bucky’s treatment plan and while it meant that they were progressing quickly, you found yourself alone and bored out of your mind.

It was Saturday and most of the lab technicians you worked with were spending the weekend with their families so instead you sat curled up at the small table by the living room window. You were almost finished one of the files Maria had sent your way when the front door opened, pulling your thoughts away from the work in front of you. You craned your neck around to face the two men who greeted you as they entered.

“You’re home early.” You remarked, watching as Bucky took a seat on the couch behind you and Steve made his way over to stand by your side.

Steve grinned, placing a hand on your shoulder and peering down at the papers in front of you curiously before speaking.

“They think we’ve finished all the procedures.” He explained, your eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise as you looked over to Bucky.

Bucky threw you an exhausted smile and shrugged. “They’re giving us the evening off before they start running the tests tomorrow.”

“That’s great!” you exclaimed, sitting up straighter in your chair and turning your entire body around to face your friends. “How do you feel?”

You asked him the same question nearly every evening but the answer he gave you that afternoon was the best yet.

“The best I’ve felt in years.”

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Ahhh I love stuff like this. I hope you don’t mind me, once again, indulging in my PR!Reader AU.

Gabe had never arm wrestled (Y/N) before. He could barely beat Jack, he beat Ana (when she didn’t cheat and sleep dart him), and there were few on base dumb enough to challenge him (Jesse was one of those few, but he always lost, so Gabe didn’t include him).

You, though. He had never tried arm wrestling you. You had a lot of work on your plate and the two of you were hardly in the same bed anymore because of differing schedules. A rare day off, however, found the two of you in the kitchen of your suite together, eating ice cream straight from the container with spoons and laughing about little things.

Gabe thought of the little game when you crushed the can of soda you had finished in your hand, leaving him to wonder how strong you were.

“Arm wrestle me,” he said suddenly.

“What?” you tossed the can into the recycling chute.

“Arm wrestle me. Humor me? Just for a bit. I’ll do the dishes for a week,” he crowded into your space a bit, pressing kisses to your temple while also trying to pull you over to the table. You rolled your eyes and agreed, going to the table and sitting down.

“I’ll go easy on you for the first round,” Gabe said. You rose an eyebrow at him as he sat across from you and held out his arm. You sighed but brought your arm up to take his hand.

“On the count of three. One, two, three!”

Gabe was astonished to find that your hand hardly budged as he tried to push it down. You looked him in the eye as you held pretty firm, both of you pretty evenly matched. He had no idea the strength you had.

“The dishes for a week, hmmm?” you murmured, before surging forward and kissing him, catching him off guard and then slamming his hand to the table.

“I win, and those dishes need doing.” You smirked at Gabe, who gaped at you. He didn’t even get a chance to tell you that wasn’t fair before you kissed him again and sauntered off with the ice cream in hand.

Sooo…..overall enjoyed the episode. But I did find this one thing problematic:

This episode literally started with Clarke telling Bellamy she wanted to save everyone, even though Bellamy tells them it might not be possible. We saw her in the little office space taking count and being upset when she realized there were too many people (remind anyone of ALIE?). 

Then…when Bellamy makes a decision that fits Clarke’s ideology, of saving everyone and finding a way to make it work, he’s met with disapproval not just from Raven (which is understandable, because she didn’t agree with Clarke when it was first brought up in the beginning of the episode), but also Clarke?

Like…he literally did what you asked him to do?

And then, immediately after Bellamy’s decision to save 25 people at the possible cost of them all, Clarke gives a speech, surrounding by a halo of sunlight, wherein she blatantly lies…and she gets applause?

I’m #tired. 

amusednow  asked:

Bellarke, strangers on a deserted island, please! Thank you :)

“So, is that one of your desert island books?”

Bellamy looks up from Percy Jackson, blinking at Clarke. The sun is behind her, framing her hair with something like a halo, and the wind is trying to lift the hat off her head.

“My what?”

Clarke sits down next to him on the sand, gathering up her skirts. He knows now that she’s a brilliant, capable scientist, but she still looks like a tourist on a beach vacation most of the time. Not that he blames her; if you’re coming to an island assuming you’ll be the only one there, you might as well dress comfortably.

“Come on, you must have played that game. What books and movies would you bring if you were stuck on a deserted island. Is that on your list?”

“I brought it with me to a deserted island,” he points out. “Ergo it’s a deserted island book. Kind of by default.”

“You brought more than five books.”

“True. I’m also not really stuck here, so I don’t know if it counts.” He huffs. “I always thought that was such a stupid game.”


“Because it doesn’t make sense. You don’t get to pack to get stuck on a deserted island. Also, when I was growing up we didn’t have portable technology yet so I was like, do I have a VCR? Where are we getting electricity on this deserted island?”

“And now here you are, an adult, stuck on a deserted island with a generator. And you are stuck,” she adds, before he can object. “The ship isn’t coming back to pick us up for another few weeks. It counts.”

“So you want me to say that this is one of my desert island books?” he asks, closing the book and looking at the cover. “Because, again, it undeniably is. I looked at the amount of space I had, thought about my priorities, and brought The Sea of Monsters.”

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anonymous asked:


You’ve got places that stick out in your head like a sore thumb. Parties, friends, sunsets.

Sam’s got diners and Dean.

Mississippi brought mosquitos and cracked leather stools. Burgundy with yellow sponge as a cushion.

Dean was seventeen with five different scars running down the length of his right forearm, all within the time frame of a month. Sam counts them to get to sleep these days.

“You boys sure do love your space,” sarcastic waitress.

The burn from Dean lighting his dead friend on fire through his tears grazes Sam’s hand. It should be pink by now, but Dean can’t stop scratching at it.

“Yeah, he’s mah lil’ brother,” mouth full of chewed burger with a sentence that’s supposed to explain everything.

She can’t stop popping her gum, ponytails bouncing with her tapping foot behind the counter. White, worn, and glazed over with days worth of old dirt.

His own burger looks too disgusting on its greasy plate. Dean nudges him with an elbow, grinning so hard Sam notices ketchup in the corner of his mouth through all the pretty.

Florida, the diner has gators plastered across the place. Linoleum floors, booths with dark green seats, and tables such a shiny silver that he can see his blurry face in it.

Dean is 19 with a jawline so strong, Sam’s heart palpitates in the confines of his hand-me-down clothes. Who had the fucking right?

It’s too bright to hide the dirt plastered across his cheeks. Another one of Dad’s attempts to get him into the game ended with him face down in the mud, almost unconscious.

He saw double of Dean when he appeared in front of the stars, big hands gripping two handfuls of his own damn shirt on Sam’s body; shaking him back into reality.

Dust was stuck in his nostrils with his snot, tears burning trails down his cheeks, even though he tried to stop crying before they got over to Dad.

Nothing but a blubbering, limping mess, clinging to his big brother by time they reached John.

“So, what’ll you boys have today?” Charlotte with bouncy red hair asks, limber on her skates.

There’s pop-crap blaring through the speakers.

“Coffee for me,” John sighs.

“Bacon burger with fries, heavy on the bacon,” Dean smiles, award winning.

Sam doesn’t raise his head from the table, sniffling with his shoulders tense.

“And what about–”

“He’ll have what I’m having, extra heavy on the bacon for him,” Dean interrupts.

A street lamp flickers on outside, something in Sam does, too.

In Michigan, this one is his favorite.

Sam is seventeen. His legs can reach across the booth to his brother’s without an issue, more of a talent these days.

Last booth on the left, the windows fogged up, country music a slow twang.

“Thought this was a Michigan, not–” Dean waves his hand, never scarred, “Kentucky?”

Sam shakes his head, “What does that have to do with music?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugs, rolling his shoulders.

Dean is twenty-one, shoulders the size of the Grand Canyon, and still fucks like he’s dying. Like Sam might die.

The empty, curvy dump with dregs of chocolate at the bottom sits in the middle of the granite table. They shared it with Dean red as roses, embarrassed but also pleased.

Sam is his girl.

“Dean,” he starts, voice soft the way his brother likes.


“What would you want to do if we weren’t hunting?”

The lights in the diner flicker out at the same time Dean’s eyes meet his.

People laugh, panic, whisper.

This diner has pink, green, and neon lights advertising them outside the window. They careen off his brother’s face, sharpening angles Sam didn’t know still shocked him.

Half encased in darkness, Dean puts down his newspaper, leans across the table.

Diners helped him remember different points in his life, oily and fattening to accompany multitudes of pain.

This one, though, this memory tastes like peachy pie on his tongue. Real fruit and sugar.

“Still you, Sammy, you know that,” gentle like he might scare Sam away.

Dean reaches across the table, cradling Sam’s hand like a baby bird.

“You’re my boy,” Dean grins, wide enough to see promise through the pretty.

So yesterday in Elite Dangerous I accidentally ran into the heads of a faction I’ve been looking to possibly join.

Thing is, I didn’t know it was them, and at the time they were opposing me in the area I was fighting in.

So I killed them. All of them. Spaced the fuck out of them. All of their ships destroyed. Just me against four of them. I’ll spare you the details but they got played hard.

They brought in reinforcements and I made that dude run for the hills before I popped his expensive ship.

Today I looked at the roster of said faction and realized what I had done. I was pretty friendly about killing them yesterday, messaging the head guy “great fight!” Etc but the sodium was real on his end.

Messaged the top guy today saying “count that as my audition” and no word back.

DAY 3382

Jalsa, Mumbai                  July 1,  2017                Sat 10:09 PM 

Birthday greetings today July 1,  2017 for Ef Alla Ukhina .. wishing her the very best for her health and prosperity .. from us all the Ef Family ..

 .. and the sun rose, and despite “extenuating circumstances that coerce me to preclude you from such a bobble of extravagance ..” I am here a little before time to wish all the great responses from my previous letter and the joy of seeing that it amused many ..

there is work and there is work .. and there is restriction and there is will .. will wins .. work accomplishes .. and what it entails finds its position here :

these be the campaigns for the work done .. more of which should come in due course .. a course that could spell attention dedication information and a hint of accented suffocation … no not really suffocation, but a kind of play that brings a smile of completion in the world of execution .. execution of work not the other kind .. !!

the ability to change is limited in us all .. efforts made may yield some results .. results that could satisfy .. but that factor is dependent on many other factors .. compatibility, acceptability, suitability and one that comes pretty near to availability ..

confused ..??

well that is the general idea .. at times it makes interesting cover to NOT be able to be read, in the sense of the real .. quite frankly most of the time we as beings find ourselves in that range often .. but we recover and resume and rejoice at our vulnerable availability .. much like what most of us are doing now ..

Fact is Ladies and Gentleman of the Ef .. buying time and space is an art, much like the art of speaking that was consuming the letter last night .. and equally I find myself inefficient again in putting any credit to the matter ..

Best then to come to the factual .. and bring forth, what needs to be brought forth .. in substance ..

an offering perhaps of a ‘toffee’ .. strawberry outside lined with the mango flavour in the inside .. yummy and cool .. try .. it may change your taste for life ..

or perhaps :

the counting of a rupee  .. its value in todays world of some eminence, would you not say .. it did in my time .. it could get you a jar full of sweets, or half a membership to the School cricket team .. but now .. a humungous marketing tool in the pricing world .. how many products does the world have that falls just short of the round figure .. a 200, 250 or a 300 .. not many .. in fact not many at all .. its always 199, or 249, 299 .. a brilliant psychological technology that brain washes customer after customer after customer .. !!!

I do the same tonight ..

Happily of course .. in rhythm with the selling that is done .. and its flourish !!

bewildered at the outcome of such selling .. the two toned appearance signifies the possible entrenched question mark, often marking the continued expression of the person above .. ‘dunno what is goin’ on ..’

and more ..

an end to this .. else Ef Alla Ukhina birthday shall pass away, and none shall get opportunity to wish her ..

and so ….

good night in the language of the Ef Alla

Amitabh Bachchan

A/N: This is my first imagine about the Doctor and my first imagine without the Joker so this is kind of new to me. I hope this one is okay, I wasn’t really sure on where to go with it. Feedback is very much welcomed, please tell me if you’d like to read more of this or if you’d rather not :)


Anonymous: Oooohhh could I please get a super fluffy Tenth Doctor? Like reader is insecure about everything and like “why did the doctor pick me?!” And he just reassures her and tells her she’s perfect and he wouldn’t want anyone else traveling all of time and space with him.

Warning(s): None.

Word count: 1,196


It was rough travelling with the Doctor, you could never deny that, but somehow the thrill and the rush of it all just drew you into a deep dark pit that you couldn’t get out of. That was the thing, it was all just so addictive.

An unexpected trip to the 1900’s had brought you here, sitting alone in the TARDIS’ console room as you listened to the deep and comforting hum that she provided, your thoughts clouding your mind as all you could think about how bad you felt about yourself. You’d never normally feel this way because the Doctor was just so good at making you feel special and taking your mind off things by showing you the stars, but it came a time where even the brightest of sun’s couldn’t wipe away the feeling that had stuck to you.

Aliens weren’t known to be the kindest of creatures, of course, and you were quite aware of that. You had your fair share of abductions, beatings and threats over the duration of your travelling with the Doctor but nothing really prepared you for this. It wasn’t even an alien that had caused you to feel so low. At least you didn’t think it was. You guessed it was just a human. A plain old human who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and happened to know just a little too much about you and the Doctor. Whatever it was and wherever it was from, the words it spat out hit you like a ton of bricks and you could just feel yourself sinking deeper and deeper into disappear.

You almost never knew where he was, the Doctor, but you could guarantee he had an amazing story to tell when he came back and found you. You were shocked that he even let you out on your own in such an unfamiliar place, or maybe he was just clumsy and got too excited for his own good. Either way, you had returned to the TARDIS in a fit of tears after the encounter with the thing, whatever it was and slumped on the chair, grateful that the Doctor wasn’t here to see you in such a state. You were a strong woman and had never cried for your own misfortune in front of him before and you wanted to keep it that way.

It wasn’t long until he burst through the wooden doors holding numerous items in hands with a huge grin on his face, his mouth running a marathon like it always did. Oh how you loved this man. He was extraordinary.

He stopped halfway through his story about his own little adventure and the gifts he had brought you when he spotted your slightly smudged makeup and the fake smile that you had plastered across your face. There was nothing that could get past him.

“A- Are you okay, Y/N?” He asked softly, setting the items down on the floor before he slowly walked over to your slouching figure, the sudden concern in his tone making you feel more emotional than ever. It was very unusual for him to see you like this and it was difficult for him to know what to do in this sort of situation, especially since it was you. He cared a great deal for you and it broke his hearts whenever something happened.

You were quick to nod and blink back the freshly formed tears that threatened to spill as he crouched down in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees in his attempt to comfort you. Those lovable dark brown eyes caught yours in a long and hard stare, his face softening when a slight whimper escaped your lips. “It’s just- I just feel like- Oh I don’t know.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and motioned for you to carry on, his large alien hand now taking your small human one, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin as he concentrated on you.

“Why did you pick me, Doctor? Really? I’m nothing.” You blurted out, a single salty tear escaping from your eye and running down your cheek.  The Doctor frowned when the words came out your mouth, a sudden wave of hurt overtaking him. He couldn’t understand why you were sad like this and then for you to doubt yourself in such a horrible way just upset him deeply. You looked so helpless and depressed and he couldn’t bare to see you like that. “You’d be better off with someone else.”

“What’s made you say this?”

You shrugged, averting your eyes away from his gaze and looking at your black shoes which were nearly touching his, his crouching figure making the bottom half of the suit almost too tight for him. You didn’t like acting this way in front of the Doctor but once the book had been opened, it was extremely difficult to close. You decided not to tell the Doctor about the events that had caused you to be upset because you knew that he could get very protective and there was no way the Doctor would let it go. You just wanted to forget about it.

The Doctor suddenly sprung to his feet, making you jump at the unexpected movement. His hand was still attached to yours as he pulled you up and lead you to the controls. You were confused as to what he was doing. He was pulling leavers, flicking switches and pressing buttons here, there and everywhere while you used your sleeve to pat dry your tear stained cheeks, the TARDIS beginning to slowly move. Moments later, she came to a halt and the Doctor plodded down to the door, motioning for you to follow him.

The doors swung open and an amazing sight of the Earth in the solar system met your eyes, the natural processes taking place in the atmosphere and the all the wonderful things about a human life happening in front of you. It never failed to astonish you with all the places the Doctor took you to. Even simple things like planet Earth would get you all excited and giddy. That’s just the effect the Doctor had on you.

“See this?” He pointed to the Earth. “There’s no one else living on there who I would rather have with me. No one. And if you can’t believe me then I will keep telling you everyday. You’re the perfect companion, you’re my shining star, Y/N. I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

His simple words comforted you greatly and in an instant you felt your mood rise, your heart warming and a feeling of love filling you up. A small smile crept onto your lips as you continued to fix your eyes on your home planet as it rotated, bathing in the hot sun millions of miles away while the Doctor wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The heat radiating from his body relaxed you, a sweet hum sounding from the Doctor as you both stood peacefully watching the world go by, feeling nothing more than love and happiness.

Requests are open.

Dark side of You (Ramsay Bolton x reader imagine)

Originally posted by mr-lewis

Fandom: GoT

Chapters: One shot

Warning: None

Summary: Imagine ‘’spying’’ on Ramsay. Will you regret it?

A/N: It’s been like 83years (actually one month, but I still feel bad T_T) since I posted an imagine story so… here we go :)
At first, I was deciding between Joffrey and Ramsay. But once this idea hit me, I thought it’ll fit more Ramsay. Enjoy! ❤

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Fascinating(Peter Parker x Reader)

Requested by @jaderbugz : Hiya! Could you write a Peter Parker x Reader imagine where the reader is an Avenger/dancer and Pete catches her dancing in the training room? Thanks!! ❤

Warnings: None

Word Count: 821


Originally posted by dancie-pantz

You put your hair up to a ponytail with your shiny new clasps, wore your dancing shoes, your brand new t-shirt that had Iron-Man’s face on it (Tony thought it was the best birthday gift idea ever) and lastly, your comfortable black yoga pants that were perfect for dancing. Dancing had been your passion for too many years that you couldn’t even remember when you started. However, except your family, no one knew you were dancing. You liked to keep it for yourself. Also, you knew the Avengers and your friends all would be like: “Come on Y/N, show us your dance moves!” and you didn’t feel comfortable about dancing in front of them. You also had another concern, Peter Parker. He was your best friend from the team since he was the only person who was close to your age but you didn’t see him like a friend at all. Therefore, no one would like to be embarrassed in front of their crush, right?

You entered the training room excitedly since you had been desperate to get the training room for a long time. Anytime you wanted to dance in the huge room, there was always someone who was training their asses off for long hours. Plus, the tower was never empty therefore you were always afraid that someone would catch you dancing like crazy, especially Peter. For your luck, half of the Avengers were on a mission and the other half just had their own work to do outside.

The room was the perfect place to dance; it allowed you more space than you needed. You put the radio you brought on the ground, opened Bluetooth from your phone and selected the dance playlist you had prepared recently. “Roses” by The Chainsmokers was blasting loudly in the room and you started stretching. You hadn’t been dancing for solid three weeks, which was enough to make your body forget all the moves you could use to do.

When you were finally done with stretching, the moment you have been craving for three weeks was finally there; actual dance moves. Now, “Focus” by Ariana Grande was playing. You started counting your moves; 1,2,3,4, you stopped and changed the move, 5,6,7,8. You failed at your first attempt but you didn’t give up since you were used to both failure and accomplishments.

The songs kept changing but you never stopped for hours. You were really into the moment; you were having the time of your life. You felt wild, delirious. You were feeling the adrenaline running through your body, your throat was burning since you completely forgot about drinking water but you still didn’t stop.  The only thing that you were passionate about your life mor than being a hero was dancing obviously.

When you finally managed to stop and catch your breath again for while you walked towards to the radio and stopped the music. When you tilted your head up, you felt your heart bumping faster than ever. Peter Parker was there, watching you. You gasped and didn’t know what to say, you eyes were wide open. When he saw your face, he blushed too and stuttered: “I-I… You dance pretty great!” He scratched the back of his head nervously, staring at his feet. “How long- how long have you been there?” You mumbled staring at Peter’s figure from the across the room. “I have been here long enough to see how fascinating you are,” he chuckled anxiously and tilted his head up to face you. You felt your cheeks burning up because of Peter’s comments. You giggled: “Thanks.” For a moment there was an awkward silence and Peter broke it: “Hey, you know what? I’m really sorry I interrupted you and I also made you feel uncomfortable. I better go now,” he turned his back to leave you there. You yelled: “Peter, wait!” You ran towards him and he stopped. When you were close to him you chuckle: “Yes, I was hiding these all from you but you don’t have to apologize. I’m really glad that you liked it, you don’t need to leave. In fact, would you like to try?”

Peter opened his mouth to refuse your offer but you were quicker than him. You held his hand and dragged him into the room. You pressed the radio’s play button and “Something In the Way You Move” by Ellie Goulding started to play. Peter took off his jacket and smiled at you. “You will regret this,” he shouted and you shrugged. “Do what I do!” You shouted ignoring his comment and he nodded. Now, both of you weren’t really dancing, just making silly moves and when Peter realized what he was doing he ran towards you and took you down. “I told you, you will regret this!” You giggled and shouted: “Stop!” while he was tickling you to death. You both laughed until you were both out of breath.

It’s not like she’s forgotten. Her world was very different from his, in a way that made her feel… Sad. They didn’t have mutants in this world - or at least, none that happened the natural way like she had (if you didn’t count the genetic manipulation program she had been born into) .

Nobody here, in this world was born with naturally occuring powers.

They all came to them through time and space manipulation, gamma radiation, super serum or through accidents. There were no X-men or Brotherhood of Mutants here.

Although, the day Clint brought the team back to the farm, after some kids had beat them up in Johannesburg, and told her that their names were Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, she’d felt her heart explode. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were Magneto’s children. Did this mean there were mutants in this world too?

She learnt later on that they did not inherit their powers through their parents but through the mind stone. Laura felt sad about it, until the day Steve dropped in on her at the farm, after Germany, after the Sokovia Accords, after Zemo, with Clint unconscious over his shoulders and Wanda following behind, blood smudged on her face.

Until the day where Wanda asked her about the blades of metal in her body, and about the crossing from Canada.

They were sitting in the kitchen, after having changed Clint’s bandages again, discussing how Laura could accept to live like this. How she could accept that Clint went out there and risked his life for the world, apparently not worrying about Laura or the kids’ safety. Wanda had smiled.

“I have seen it,” she’d said, knowing, “in Clint’s memories. The first day you met.” She had paused as she waited for Laura’s reaction. “You almost cut his head off with-” she had motioned to Laura’s feet, propped up on the reclining chair, as she sipped her vanilla tea, “- with the blades.”

Laura hadn’t said anything for a minute or two. Looking for the words. She’d felt Wanda’s mind inside hers, and her body relaxed- like it remembered how it had felt when she’d been communicating with Professor Xavier. It was so many years ago… But Wanda had looked up at her then, and nodded. She knows, Laura thought.

“Do you miss it?” Wanda had asked, and Laura had gazed over at the television room, where Cooper and Lila and Nathaniel’s toys were sprawled all over the floor.

She sighed. “Sometimes. But, my friends- the ones who crossed with me? They’re here too, so it helps.”

There had been a pause, then, where Wanda thought of something, before asking: “Clint says his Spanish is flawless.”

“And he is also a tonto, because it is absolutely not.”


For @thepoolofthedead who sent me that text post about Laura Barton’s maiden name being Laura Kinney and I had time and yeah. I might elaborate on it at a later time but yeah.

Sodapop Smut: Caught in the Act

It’s not that the gang didn’t trust you, per se.

“We’re just a little… Uneasy with your lady-friends after what happened with Sandy." Darry reasoned as he placed the lid on his pot of food.

Sodapop rolled his eyes as he leant against the counter, trying his best to get the keys to the truck from his older brother.

"Which totally means ya don’t trust her or my judgement. I’m not a kid, Dar. She ain’t nothin’ like Sandy.”

He gave Sodapop quizzical look while reaching up and grabbing plates from the cabinet.

“Set the table, please. And what makes you so sure? Y’all’ve only been goin out for a few months now.”

“Eight." Sodapop corrected as he rounded the table.

"I thought it was six.”

Sodapop shrugged. "We were smitten way before I brought her home.“

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Every Last Reason

Enjoltaire (Enjolras x Grantaire)

Trigger warning: this fic contains alcohol abuse and self loathing.

Small talk and wine filled their living room, Enjolras had accepted one glass of wine for the night, but Grantaire being himself had obviously got things out of hand and now he curled drunkly on Enj’s chest as the blond man’s hand played lovingly on the dark mess of curls.

 "We should probably get some sleep" Enjolras said, suddenly realizing it was nearly 3 am. 

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  • Aries: We're not letting you drive, you drive too fast and you ran over a cat last time.
  • Taurus: Sleeping. Do not touch. Will open the car door and push you out.
  • Gemini: Counting sheep, punching people when they see a Volkswagen Beetle.
  • Cancer: Brought snacks and a water bottle for everyone. Has to pee.
  • Leo: I CANT BREATHE I NEED LEG SPACE OH GOD *puts legs on top of Scorpio*
  • Virgo: Praying someone doesn't get car sick.
  • Libra: Trying to get everyone to agree on a radio station, ends up singing along to Beyoncé by themselves.
  • Scorpio: Has both headphones in, reading, throws up in the backseat and blames it on the driver.
  • Sagittarius: Reading the map upside down.
  • Capricorn: In the passenger seat, trying to tell the driver where to go.
  • Aquarius: The driver. Trying to get to China.
  • Pisces: Are we there yetttttttttt??