chained clutch

This is my Bratz customized dress I made for Raya. it took about 5 hours total to make, includes her boa and a clutch chain purse. I even added glitter to her heels. The back has a velcro hold just like all the Bratz clothing. I used Destiny’s jewelry, I got Raya off eBay for $7 (pretty neat!) but her lipstick was faded off, so I used fingernail stickers, cut them in the shape of her lips, and stuck them on.

Breaking Innocence (Rowoon x Reader)

Rated: M, with plot and fluff!

(A/N) Heyo! I’m finally back again with a fluffy smut where you and SF9′s Rowoon have been childhood friends forever, can you stay that way for much longer? Awkward teenage feelings and sexual tension ensues!

Originally posted by armurx

 You don’t really remember becoming friends with Rowoon, just that it was during a sweltering hot summer and your mom had plopped your favorite floppy red hat on your little toddle head. The cicadas had been screaming their usual cacophonous chorus as you and your mother walked hand in hand toward the new city playground that had just been built. You’d begged and pleaded for your mom to take you, pushing out a few forced tears in order to get your point across. She’d laughed cordially at that and kissed your cheek, never able to deny her little pumpkin as you beamed up at the face you loved most in this world. You couldn’t help the squeal of delight that escaped your lips as you urged your mother to hurry up, your pretty sun dress dress twirling around your chubby legs excitedly, “Mama, Mama, let’s go!”

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Stay How It Is

Originally posted by obriengif

Stiles x Reader


“You ok?” A boy asked sweetly as you stared at your feet. “Don’t you know how to swing I can show you, my Mom taught me!”

“I don’t feel like swinging.” You whispered and he pouted, scrunching up his turned up nose as he thought.

“We could hold hands, Dad says it makes my Mom feel better.” He offered and sat on the seat next to you and held out his hand. “We could be friends if you like… but not best friends because my best friend is Scott.”

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There were feathers in the hallway.

Tony blinked down at them slowly, then began picking them up. They were purple, a deep, rich hue, and each feather was as long as his forearm. He took a moment to be very, very glad that his parents were on trips and that Jarvis and Ana were out shopping, because he’d never be able to explain these.

There was a trail of them. Tony followed them, stooping to pick up each feather, because it wouldn’t do to for someone to stumble over any of them. It was… an awful lot of feathers. Like an alarming amount of feathers. He could probably make a suit of them.

They led to one of the guest rooms.

Tony should probably call someone. He remembered when Natasha had come into the mansion, how dangerous it had been. Natasha had told him that the only reason it had worked out so well for him was because he’d surprised her. Still, he was eighteen now. He should be able to handle it.

The feathers led to the closet.

Tony was never going to understand why these guys liked closets so much. Bucky and Steve had tried to explain it but he didn’t get it. Natasha hadn’t even bothered trying, just shrugged and said “I like it there.” He’d understood that a lot better than anything Steve and Bucky had said.

Tony stopped halfway into the guestroom, calling out, “Hello?”

There was a shuffling sound behind the door, but then silence.

He took another step closer. “He–llo! I heard you moving in there!”

The shuffling sound came again, then a noise like claws on wood.

Tony swallowed thickly, clutching the bundle of feathers to his chest. “…I’m not leaving until you come out!”

The door burst open so fast that he only had time to scream before whatever had been in it was on top of him.


Bucky and Steve fell out of the closet, scrabbling at the floor and leaving gouges in the wood. When they skidded out into the hallway they saw a giant black spider crawling across the wall, the red hourglass on its belly shining ominously as it leapt over doorways.

Bucky and Steve caught up to her a few seconds later, skidding over the floors. It was worrying, that they’d only heard that one scream. What if Tony couldn’t scream again? What if he–what if Tony was–

They crashed through the doorway, tearing the door off its hinges.

“Help,” Tony sobbed, hands bleeding around the barbed chain he was clutching. “Help! It’s hurting him!”

They stopped in shock. The hulking feathered figure in front of the human was trembling, one wing forced straight up by the chain, the other pinned against its side. Half of the feathers on the extended wing were just… shaved off. Some feathers were even cut in half, and the barbed chain was digging into the flesh hard enough that blood was starting to rise beneath it. It took a lot to pierce a monster’s skin.

Natasha swept over to him, form shifting so she had hands, one pair grabbing at the chain while the other carefully but firmly peeled Tony’s free. “Let go,  Котенок. It’s hurting you, too.”

“Natasha help!” Tony exclaimed, sobbing again.

“I’m helping, Котенок. You need to move.”

Steve slithered over to wrap his arms around the brunet as Bucky leapt forward to help Natasha, tail wrapping around his legs so he couldn’t lunge forward again. “Shhh. Tony, let them work.”

Tony turned so he could cry into his chest. “He couldn’t even ask me for help! He made–he made this terrible sound, Steve, it was awful–”

“It’s not–we’re going to tear his fucking wing off,” Bucky muttered, hands shifting, tugging lightly along the chain.

Natasha hissed quietly in sympathy as the feathered mass let out a long whine, wing shuddering. “We might just have to let it happen. This is a Death Chain. Maybe sacrificing a wing would be better.”

“No!” Tony exclaimed, pulling back and wiping his eyes. “I can–I’ll go get bolt cutters! We can cut it off!”

The monsters looked at each other before Bucky asked, “Will that work?”

Natasha shrugged. “I’ve never seen it, but then I’ve never had a human care.”

“I’ll go get bolt cutters,” Tony repeated, determined, and ran from the room.

Steve slithered over and gently curled his fingers under the chain as well. “You said you’ve seen these before?”

“Not everyone thinks monsters in the closet are an adorable fairy tale to soothe their children about,” Natasha answered coldly. “This isn’t the worst I’ve seen.”

The monster let out another whine, other wing trying to shove out from under the chain and shaving off a few feathers.

“Whoa, buddy!” Bucky exclaimed, reaching out to shove his wing back down. “Calm down! We’re trying to help you!”

Tony came running back into the room. “I brought two!”

Steve grabbed one of them from his arms and flipped it around. “Just tell me where to cut.”

“Um–uh–” Tony circled the monster anxiously, fingers trailing over the chain. “Here? Here. Steve, here!”

Steve lifted the bolt cutters and Tony helped him slide them into place. It took more effort than the human had expected, and one of the handles broke off. Tony started to hand him the second bolt cutter, but Steve just grabbed the blades and squeezed them together with his hand.

Tony would have gaped, but he was too busy trying to pull the broken link of chain out. Once it was free he said, “Okay, okay, you can pull–”

Do not pull,” Natasha ordered immediately. “We need to pick the barbs out or we’ll do just as much damage.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, voice small, and obediently began picking the barbs out of the monster’s skin.

It took a while, but eventually Bucky picked out the last barb and the chain fell to the ground with a dull clank. Then Natasha carefully pulled the feathers on the monster’s head back, away from his face.

“…Thanks,” he managed to grit out, voice gravely.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, reaching out to push more of his feathers back.

The monster’s wings shifted, and then a pair of talon-tipped hands appeared out of the feathers, catching his wrists. “Blood is very hard to get out without water,” he croaked, then reached out to cup the human’s cheeks. “I scared you. I’m sorry.”

Tony sniffled quietly. “It’s okay.”


His name was Clint. He’d escaped from a circus and he’d meant to keep running but the chains had gotten too tight, and the mansion was so close. He hadn’t meant to come bursting out of the door so fast, he’d just tripped and flapping his one good wing had been the only thing he could do to keep from falling and tightening the chains further.

“I was supposed to scare children,” Clint said, voice much less gravely now that he’d had time to breathe properly and they’d given him water and a can of sardines. “I don’t like to do that.”

Natasha didn’t look up from winding bandages around Tony’s bruised and lacerated hands. “How does that feel?”

“Hurts,” Tony admitted quietly.

“You’re lucky a barb didn’t go right through your hand,” Bucky muttered, peering through fridge. “Steak?”

“I haven’t had beef in… decades. So maybe not,” Clint answered. He gave Tony a long, appraising look. “Most humans wouldn’t start trying to pull a barbed chain off something after it basically attacked them.”

Steve snorted from where he was carefully pulling the other man’s feathers so they were facing the right way. “Most humans don’t walk up to a monster and offer them soup when she could easily eat him.” He paused at the man’s wing, where most of his feathers had been cut off, before quietly asking, “Will they grow back?”

“…Probably,” Clint said after a bit too long. He looked back at Tony. He looked like a person that hadn’t been scared as a child. “If I could just have a few days to rest, I can get out of your hair.”

“You don’t need to go,” Tony hurried to say. “The mansion’s big! You can pick any room!”

Bucky sighed loudly. “You won’t be happy until you’ve adopted every monster you can, will you?”

“He’s hurt,” Tony exclaimed indignantly. “And whoever might still be chasing him! They can’t get to him here!”

“Let it go, Buck,” Steve muttered, smoothing his hands down the feathers on Clint’s back. “You know Tony.”

Bucky sighed again, quieter, but he did know Tony. He was a fixer. “How about meatballs?”

“That sounds awful,” Clint admitted. “But I’m so hungry that I don’t actually care. It’s better than anything I’ve eaten anyway, probably.”

“I’ll cook them so it’s easier on your stomach.”

Clint nodded, humming quietly, and then extended his wings. He’d basically been clipped. He wouldn’t be able to fly anyway. So maybe he’d stay a little longer than a few days.

“Oh! The feathers!” Tony gasped, standing abruptly. “I need to pick them up before Jarvis and Ana get home!”

Clint watched him go. “Should probably go help him. The feathers that were cut will have really sharp edges.”

Steve made a startled noise and hurried after him. With his scales, he was extra impervious to injury. And it would be just their luck that Tony would slice his arm open.

“He’s going to keep you,” Natasha decided, leaning her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. “He does that.”

Clint shrugged. Steve, Bucky, and Natasha seemed to be doing pretty well for themselves. It wasn’t like it could be any worse than the circus.

anonymous asked:

Are you gonna update the fic where jughead comes back and Betty is raising their son sometimes soon?? Cause I need it to survive!!

I’m so sorry this took so long, I went hunting for some inspiration.
***

“Careful Hunter! There’s big branches!”

Jughead nervously chased the excited two year old through the Southside trailer park. It was a whole new experience to the toddler and he was treating it like a big playground, his wobbly feet running ahead of Jughead, leaving behind a trail of giggles and occasionally looking back to make sure his dad was close.

Betty couldn’t make it out of work to go visit Jugheads father, Ginger Lopez was getting married and she was relying on Betty’s floral arrangements, but when she told Jughead to take Hunter along the dark haired author felt his heart ache, she trusted him, she trusted him to take their son on his own and keep him safe, that meant more than anything.

Jughead ran ahead, scooping the giggling little boy in his arms and propping him on his shoulders, Hunter squealed and clung on to Jugheads neck.

“This is where daddy grew up” he explained “I used to run around this trailer park just like you. Mommy would come and visit and we would swing on the swings right over there.” He nodded towards a rusted swing set right beside his fathers trailer, Hunter gasped by his ear

“Swings” he whispered in awe.

Jughead laughed heartily, glancing between the trailer door and the swing set

“Well come on then, they look like they’re calling out to be swung on.” Jughead made his way to the swings and gently deposited Hunter on the dark blue seat, the little boy looked up at his father like he hung the moon.

“Thankyou.” Hunter whispered, clutching the chains with his tiny hands.

Jughead stared lovingly at his son and moved behind him, gently pushing him.

“You’re mom raised you right, you’re such a good boy Hunter. I’m sorry I wasn’t around, when you’re older I’ll explain, I think I did good though picking your mommy. She’s the best woman in the world. We’re both very lucky boys.” He laughed to himself.

“She’s a great mother.”

Jughead gripped the chains turning around quickly at the familiar voice and reaching down to bring Hunter into his arms.

“Dad.” Jughead whispered.

F.P jones had his eyes trained entirely on the dark haired toddler clutching Jughead with anxious eyes.
“First time I’ve ever seen him outside of pictures, looks just like you, got his mothers eyes though and lips. I’ve seen pictures, Betty sends them every month, I uhh..” F.P cleared his throat, turning to look at his son “you look good son.”

Jughead rolled his eyes, rubbing soft circles into Hunters back and rocking him gently, he could feel how tense the two year old was and he wanted desperately to get this over with

“I’m not here for a house call dad, I have to talk to you.” Jughead explained monotone.

F.P nodded knowingly
“I assumed. Come on then, let’s go inside I’ll get the kid some juice.”

They followed the older man into the trailer and sat uncomfortably on the couch, before Jughead even knew what was happening, a very familiar sheep dog was running right towards them, leaping onto the couch and knocking Hunter directly into F.Ps arms. Jughead clutched Hotdog, and glanced over the mass of fur to see Hunter bouncing excitedly in his fathers arms and pointing

“Hot dog!” He grinned, looking to Jughead and clapping “daddy! Hotdog!” He exclaimed.

Jughead laughed at the bewildered expression on his fathers face.
“He has a stuffed dog at home, Betty named it Hotdog, this must be a very surreal experience for him.” He ran his hands through Hotdogs fur and smiled

“Hey boy, I missed you.” He whispered, dodging licks and kisses.

Hunter gripped F.Ps hand and buried it into the soft fur of his dog

“See?” The two year old explained “it’s nice, very nice.” He smiled encouragingly at the older man, running his own hands over the dog.

F.P instantly softened,
“He gets that from his mom I assume.” He said referring to the little boys comforting nature.

“Sure does, she’s a great mother dad. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.” Jughead turned serious, dropping his hand to Hunter and running a hand through his sons matching dark hair, Hunter looked up and grinned at his dad, still cuddling Hotdog, practically disappearing in the huge dogs fur. Jughead looked down with so much love F.P couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene, it was almost like watching a memory. Jughead looked back up and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, Hal is trying to take Hunter away from her, from us. He’s telling the courts she isn’t a fit mother but it’s not true none of it, I need your help. We need your help.”

F.P stiffened and nodded without hesitation
“I’ll ask around, I won’t let anyone take that boy from his family.” The undertone was clear, he was thinking of the year Jughead spent in foster care, the year he was taken away and returned ten times worse.

“Okay. Thankyou.” Clutching Hunters hand he gently tugged him away

“Alright buddy say goodbye to F.P, we’ve got to get home and help mommy with the flowers.” Jughead smiled as the little boy toddled towards F.P

“Bye bye.” He waved.

F.P swallowed thickly
“Bye bye Hunter, I’ll see you soon okay?”

The bright eyed little boy grinned
“See you soon, bye bye hotdog.” With that he was out the door and headed towards the sprinkler in the yard over.

Jughead grinned at his rambunctious son, moving to follow him when he felt the hand in his shoulder

“We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” F.Ps eyes shifted to the familiar leather jacket hanging in the coat rack by the door, Jughead ripped his hand free

“Whatever dad, I’ll see you around”
With a final glance to the trailer he had grown up in Jughead followed his son, his family, His everything, they would figure it out, no matter what he was keeping his family together.

RusAme Wingtalia Oneshot

@iridulcentdays​ and the awesome anon, here you go!

7: “I almost lost you.”

Based on Wingtalia artwork by @fynniona.

Though superb in the air, when Alfred loses a beloved trinket on the night of a storm, Ivan refuses to let his own limitations stop him from helping Alfred, even if his wings are not up for this kind of trial. RusAme, AmeRus Wingtalia AU.

Word Count: 2440

Sky Dance

Blinding blue and vibrant gold. Those marked the raucous flights of Alfred Jones each time he soared through near-cloudless skies, always announcing his flight with echoing cheers of excitement. Though a life of rushing wind and sweeping arcs had been his for ages, each flight always brought him great excitement. Pace yourself, Jones Arthur had always instructed him, seeing early on that Alfred wanted to fly as soon as could be- sooner than was recommended. But Alfred had not; his wings had always been able to handle more strain than most, and always seemed to yearn to try their strength more and more. And so they had flourished, becoming expansive feathery creations that rivaled the sun.

Ivan had been more cautious, heeding the advice of his older sister and the demands of his younger sister to be careful, to do everything by the book, to never put himself into a position where he could get hurt, what would they do if he got seriously injured? And so he maintained a cautious approach for their sake. He paced himself and built up his strength slowly. It meant for a natural endurance that would someday do him great service to have, but it also meant the development of his wings was slower than Alfred’s, and their impressive thickness and potential was not reflected in their span.

Alfred was somewhat gracious about it, though even when he did not mean to tease Ivan took offense to when Alfred would stretch, wings at their full width, fluttering and twitching slightly as he worked out the kinks in his muscles. It was a blow to Ivan’s ego and desires every time he felt a gush of air puff out around Alfred as the latter took flight, like a small, smiling golden sun come to shine his rays upon him, but always out of reach. But what good was the sun if Ivan could not feel its warmth?

“Mmmm…yours are so much softer,” Alfred sighed, his cheek following behind the path his hands traced along Ivan’s platinum wings. Alfred rubbed his face into the remarkably thick, soft, fluffy down, beaming appreciatively. Ivan’s wing twitched beneath Alfred’s touches, the unoccupied one swishing as if in flight. Ivan watched, eyebrows raised at Alfred’s display. This was nothing new, Alfred’s open fascination and fondness for Ivan’s wings, his own being expansive but a bit less full.

Ivan adjusted the scarf around his neck, cheeks warm, smiling in spite of himself. Humbling though it may be, Alfred’s presence was something he would never turn down, no matter how aware it made him feel.

“Hey,” Alfred said behind pale snowy feathers. “I’m going to catch a final flight before the storm hits, see if Francis has any baked goodies for us. Wanna come with?”

Tempting though it was, Ivan shook his head. “Someone needs to make dinner in case Francis decides he does not want to feed us constantly.”

Alfred let out a bark of laughter, waving away Ivan’s statement with a flick of the hand. “Who would let these faces starve?” he asked, leaning his beside Ivan’s and squeezing Ivan’s cheeks. He was rewarded with a smack upside the head. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving before I’m abused even more. See you in just a bit.”

“Be quick!” Ivan reminded him, able to smell the impending downpour in the air.

Alfred nodded. He slipped off his dog tags and slid them in his pocket; they were his lucky charms for flight, but he had always been concerned they might catch onto something and injure his neck. Stealing a quick kiss, Alfred waved. With a great whoop, Alfred bounded off the cliff, allowing himself to fall into a dive before being carried up, up, out away from the jagged mountainside and across the valley, cheering all the way. Ivan shook his head, glad Alfred could not see the smile he was unable to fight down.

0o0o0

Clouds already blanketed the sky, sealed away the sun’s rays- but not its warmth- by the time Alfred could be seen fluttering home. Ivan watched with relief as Alfred drew near, a dark honey-colored mass swooping up and down in the quickening winds. Had he been much longer, Ivan would have set off to call him back, already feeling ready for a bit of a journey after an hour of flight practice and exercises.

“Miss me?” was Alfred’s first statement upon landing with a huff, treading a few extra paces as he regained his footing.

“Was hoping you would stay there overnight,” Ivan said dryly, fluttering down from their home. Alfred smiled, as if bestowed with the highest compliment, extending a hand as Ivan too landed. It was with their fingers laced, wingers brushing with tentative touches, that they entered their home for dinner.

Silverware clinked against glass plates as they ate, Alfred catching Ivan up on Francis and Arthur’s latest argument (flower meanings). It was as he rummaged through his pocket to show Ivan the tulip seeds they’d gifted when Alfred stiffened, eyes widening.

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no…no, it was here! I know I…oh no,” he moaned, patting his pockets in mounting alarm.

“Alfred, what is it?”

“My dog tags,” Alfred said, voice cracking, blue eyes wide behind his glasses. “They’re gone…I don’t know how, this nev-” He broke off, staring into nothing with dawning realization. “There’s a hole,” he breathed, feeling the tear in his pocket. “They fell out of the hole…aw, no…” He burrowed his head in his hands, shoulders sagging.

Alfred proved to be inconsolable, head bowed through the rest of dinner, shaking his head in incredulous dismay, sighing and never voicing more than a grunt or two. Ivan suggested they look after the storm, retrace Alfred’s path with a group and carefully scour the area; Francis did not live terribly far by flight. Alfred shrugged, nodding weakly, but adding that they might be washed away by then, and who knew what the elements would do to them.

Ivan frowned, watching this sad display, mind made up with every soft despondent sigh that escaped Alfred. The glow of his entire being dimmed. Ivan knew what he had to do.

“Coming?” Alfred mumbled as he traipsed upstairs to ready himself for bed, knowing sleep would not come easily.

“Soon,” Ivan said, not looking at him. Alfred grunted, heading off.

And so did Ivan.

0o0o0

The winds had picked up since they had been outside last, darkness falling early beneath the thick layer of dark grey coating the sky above. Cool droplets of rain fell against Ivan’s skin, though for the moment it was light enough to only be an annoyance rather than a serious inconvenience. But he knew he needed to act quickly; he needed the light and he couldn’t let his feathers get too weighted down by the water. Before he could even think out a plan, before Ivan could even decide he was going through with this, he leapt from the ledge, falling immediately into a glide rather than let himself drift as Alfred had done. The wind was cool against his face, stinging his cheeks as the rain felt like little pinpricks poked into his skin. Ivan kept his head bowed against the rain, eyes roving the dampened ground.

Teeth grit, he allowed himself to descent slowly, wings spread as far as they could go, parallel to the ground Ivan seemed to be skating over. With a great heave, he flapped up higher, needing more air. His exercises from earlier had been good; he felt at least somewhat prepared and up for the maneuvers he would need to do this right. He checked grass and rock, bush and path, house and sign, watching, always watching for a glint of silver. The wind howled around him, thunder sounding in the distance. He was soaked through, wings needing to work harder than ever to keep him up off the ground so he could take full advantage of a bird’s eye view. He panted, letting himself glide for a few moments before needing to push doubly hard to ascend once more. At last, shivering, exhausted, every muscle of his wings screaming in protest, Ivan caught sight of something glinting amongst the barren branches of a tree. He swooped, heart soaring right with him as he saw a chain and knew he found his prize. With the invigoration born from his triumph, Ivan swooped, body twisting through the air, toes pointed, arm outstretched, snatching the dog tags in one fluid motion. He felt a delighted laughter bubble from his chest, clutching the chain as if it were his lifeline.

The creaking of trees accompanied the great torrent of wind and rain, and Ivan felt sure his blood was freezing. Shuddering, arms folded against his chest, wings wanting nothing more than to do the same, he pushed, pushed, pushed himself to make the flight home. The wind buffeted against him, rain soaking him to the bone, his own shivering burdening his course through the air. With a moan, a particularly hard blast of wind caught him under the wings, knocking him right off course. Cruelly, the sounds of the air almost sounded like his dear Alfred calling his name, mocking him with what he wanted most. Through the air he was thrown, arms held protectively over his face as branches whipped at his head, chest, limbs, wings. With a cry, he felt a few sharp branches scrape against his feathers, pulling and tearing at down and skin alike. The breath was knocked from him as his body connected with a hard surface, back ringing with the sting of stone against bone. Ivan’s broken cry was drowned out as he descended, wings fluttering helplessly, too weighed down to prevent his bodily fall, the cliffside scraping against his bruised skin and battered wings. His name continued to sound from above.

He landed in a wet and defeated heap at the foot of the cliff, his own shivering causing his body to ache in protest, though he was too pained to seek shelter. The sound of his name drew closer with the coming darkness.

Distantly, Ivan was aware of some warmth beside him, barely warmer than he was but enough to feel like a wonderful hearth of glowing assurance. He clung close and so did his newfound sun though no light radiated around him. The wind and rain continued, but he was being dragged carefully, tenderly through it, navigated with a care he had not known as he was slammed to and fro through trees and against rock. He heard someone’s breath hitch when he tried moving a certain way. His own. That was his own pained voice, his own body stinging in protest, tender, broken, sore, worn.

See FF and Ao3 to read the rest!

anonymous asked:

hi tay :) i absolutely adore your imagines!! i was wondering if you could write a tyler one based off from 'happier' by ed sheeran? thanks so much:)

Tyler Joseph Imagine- ‘Happier’ 


Walking down 29th and Park
I saw you in another’s arms
Only a month we’ve been apart
You look happier

The first time Tyler sees the two of them together is like a punch in the gut; all the air is knocked out of his lungs and his palms throb from the pressure of his fingernails digging into the skin. They’re walking straight towards him, both oblivious to the world around them. Tyler feels his heart physically ache with the fact that the only person he’s ever loved is completely wrapped in someone else, only a month after they’ve parted.

Tyler lifts the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and keeps his eyes downcast. She barely glances at him when they accidentally bump shoulders as they pass and Tyler’s pace quickens.
His knees feel weak and his mouth dry. He hears Y/N’s bright laugh before he rounds the corner and runs straight to his apartment.

Saw you walk inside a bar
He said something to make you laugh
I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours
Yeah, you look happier, you do

Tyler finds himself in a dingy bar on a Friday night hating Josh for thinking this was a good idea. He knows he was simply trying to cheer him up, but Tyler is feeling the exact opposite of cheered up. Josh has just left to use the restroom when Tyler looks up to find Y/N and her boyfriend walk into the bar. Figures.

Y/N’s face is smiling and when her boyfriend whispers something into her ear, she lets out a cackle. They both stumble over to the bartender and once they order, turn to each other. Tyler looks away when she leans in to press a kiss to her boyfriend’s lips. When Tyler looks back at them to find them deep into their kiss, he shoots up and out of the bar in a second. Screw Josh.

There’s a park about five minutes north of the bar and ten minutes away from his apartment. He makes his way to the swing, consumed by the darkness and the cold of the midnight air. He thinks and he shakes.

Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you
But ain’t nobody love you like I do
Promise that I will not take it personal, baby
If you’re moving on with someone new

After ten minutes of sitting on the swing, Josh comes into view with a worried expression on his face. He takes the swing next to Tyler, but doesn’t say a word. For a while they both just sit there allowing the tension to stew. Finally Tyler breaks,

“It’s my fault you know.” is all he offers, the only thing he can manage to say right now when the pain and the hurt is too strong. When the guilt is crawling up his throat and the engagement rings are burning a hole into his chest. “It’s all my fucking fault.”

Josh looks at Tyler and takes in the dark bags under his eyes, the frown that’s taken residence on his face since more than a month ago, and the overall defeat in his posture. He loves his best friend and doesn’t understand how he managed to be the happiest person he knew to this.

“I… I don’t even know what happened. I didn’t appreciate her. I didn’t treat her the way I should have.  I loved her— but I didn’t show it.  Why didn’t I show it?”  Tyler is overwhelmed, but he sticks out his hand to stop Josh from interrupting.

“She didn’t know how much I loved her? It’s my fault.  Isn’t everything, Josh? I just… I just don’t understand how I’m suppose move on and live my life like she’s managed to do.” This time when Josh reaches for him, he doesn’t stop him. He allows himself to cry into his best friend’s chest, desperate for some kind of comfort.

‘Cause baby you look happier, you do
My friends told me one day I’ll feel it too
And until then I’ll smile to hide the truth
But I know I was happier with you

Sat on the corner of the room
Everything’s reminding me of you
Nursing an empty bottle and telling myself you’re happier
Aren’t you?

Tyler sat in the corner of the room, back against the wall with a bottle of liquor clutched to his chest. The clock on the table next to him says 3:30 am, but he doesn’t really know what day it is. He hasn’t left his apartment in so long and hasn’t spoken to Josh in even longer. In the beginning it had been so painful to be in here, but now he welcomes the burn.

Everything about Tyler is burning. His eyes burn, his heart burns, his entire being is being burned and swallowed whole by a single flame. His eyes slowly track his bedroom. His eyes land on the framed picture on the bedside table.  It’s the two of them in the winter.  Tyler’s arm is slung around Y/N’s shoulder.  Her lips peak into a slight smile, her eyes shining from the reflection of the snow.  Y/N’s old flip flops are still sitting by the closet door, something she’d forgotten to take with her. The bedding is still rumpled from the last time they had slept in it together. Some of the drawers of clothing are still half way out from Y/N/s packing. Tyler’s been sleeping in the living room, in fact, he hasn’t been in this room since that day and well, until now.

When Tyler closes his eyes all he sees is Y/N holding hands with her boyfriend, both of them loving each other. Her boyfriend proposing to her, Her boyfriend marrying her. Y/N’s boyfriend making her happier than she ever was with Tyler.  He raises the bottle, his shaky hands threatening to spill the alcohol all over himself, but he manages to latch his lips to the bottle. He takes another swig, the burn somehow dulling the world around him.  

He slowly lets the dark consume him as he drinks more and more and he thinks this might be the happiest he’s been since she loved him.

Tyler’s not sure how many days go by before Josh is pounding on his apartment door.  Tyler tries not to be offended when his friend squints his nose at the stench that alludes from his apartment when he enters the room.

“When was the last time you showered?” Josh asks, trying to sound sympathetic.  Tyler just shrugs.

“Common,” Josh urges, “Shower up.  Let’s get some coffee.”

Tyler only agrees because he knows Josh wouldn’t take no for an answer.  

Thirty minutes later, Tyler and Josh find themselves in the corner of the local cafe.  Tyler nurses a hot cup of coffee and pastry in front of him.  He tries to listen to Josh talk about something he and his sister did the day before, because he wants to be a good friend, but when the bell to the front door rings and Y/N and her boyfriend walk in, Tyler can’t help but lose all focus.  

He watches intently as he slings an arm around her shoulder, whispering something into her hair.  She let’s out a loud laugh as she throws her head back and Tyler notices how her smile reaches all the way to her eyes.  Much wider than Tyler had ever seen her smile before.  

“She really does look happier, doesn’t she?”  he asks, interrupting Josh’s story.

Josh looks over to Y/N and her boyfriend and sighs.  His silence is all the affirmation Tyler needs.

Her boyfriend steps up to the register just then, ordering a coffee, and in that moment, Y/N looks across the room, her eyes connecting with Tyler’s for the first time.  Her face immediately falls as she gazes soberly across the cafe.  

Tyler’s chest clutches for a moment.  The minute she saw him, all the light she’d been illuminating immediately dimmed.  

She really was happier with him.  

He gathers up the courage and smiles softly at her.  

Y/N looks almost relieved as the corner of her lip raises up slightly, returning the smile and offers a wave.  

Tyler turns back to Josh and takes a deep breath.  His hand immediately touches the ring Y/N had returned that hung from a chain his neck.  He clutches the material for a moment before tucking it beneath his shirt.  Only when he felt the ring touch his chest, just above his heart, did he feel like he could finally breathe properly again.  

Baby, you look happier, you do
I knew one day you’d fall for someone new
But if he breaks your heart like lovers do
Just know that I’ll be waiting here for you

The Littlest Winchester - Uncle Sam

Character(s): Sam Winchester

Warnings: None

Word Count: 982

Request:  I’m not sure if you’ll ever do this or not, but I was hoping that you would do a Little Winchester fix that focuses more on uncle Sam and his bond with Dean’s daughter. Maybe them spending a day together or something like that. ☺

Fic:

           With the amount of energy she’s displaying, Sam’s glad he took his niece out of the bunker. For ten minutes straight she tore around the wooden play structure, laughing like there’s no tomorrow. Sam’s perfectly okay with chasing her; he just has to depend on his long arms to reach her when she corners herself in the nooks that are much too small for him.

           “Faster, Sammy! Faster!” The four-year-old squeals delightedly as her uncle spins her as fast as he dares on the tire swing. Clutching the chains suspending the tire, she laughs as Sam spins her just a bit faster at her request. “Stop! Stop!”

           Sam brings the swing to a halt. “Too fast for you, huh?”

           “No.” The little girl clambers out of the tire. “I wanna play tag!”

           “Oh you do, do you? Then you’d better run!” Sam lunges for the four-year-old and she shrieks and dashes away.

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Babysitting? - part one? - Mike Fuentes

hey can you please do one where your 16 and your living with your older brother kellin quinn, but he has to go out of town for a few days and mike fuentes is house/baby sitting and you try and climb out of your window to go to a party and he’s on the tire swing in the backyard (he’s 21 in this one) and he asks you to sit with him instead and you guys smoke some weed and make out (detail on the making out please)

Smut warning - part one - part two - part three - written by Emma.

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