curse you all for not having last names

This causes this.

If Soul hasn’t mentioned Tale/Fell ot4 WHICH JUST INCLUDED ALL MY TOP THREE OTP this cursed image won’t even be born.


BONUS - Soul also ask me about who will be Kustard son(s) and this is what I gave:

(PS: I named the last image “the fluff and the fucc” though) Come fight my theory I have guns

"Igniter" Curse

A curse inspired by Butcher Babies’ “Igniter”, a spell for someone who can’t keep your name out of their mouth and likes to lie and rumor monger.

Now it rips me it fucks me it tears me apart
Just one push and I will ignite
This coiled up anger on you
So be my guest
Stand down, it’s my game and I say you’ll burn out
Your time is on loan
Silence your bullshit, your voice I despise
Don’t say another word, you hemorrhage lies

📌Gather: construction paper, black salt, red pepper flakes, chili powder, a burnt match, crushed glass, a pushpin, red or orange crayon, taglock

📌Perform on the waning moon if possible. I also recommend playing the song while you do this, but it’s not necessary.

📌Make a poppet using the construction paper, making sure to draw a face and mouth. Draw flames on the poppet with the crayon, pouring all your anger into the drawing, and then put the other ingredients inside the poppet. 

📌Put the taglock in last, or, if you don’t have a taglock, write their name on a piece of paper and burn it, imagining that their foul words turn to ash in their mouths. Put the ashes into the poppet.

📌Close it up and stab the poppet in the mouth with the pushpin, saying “Speak ill of me no more, all your lies are needles and ash, to be kept behind your teeth”.

Bury the poppet, or store it in a dark spot. Cleanse yourself thoroughly afterwards and maybe have a nice little treat for yourself.

This is just my short take on my own personal experiences in college, as a bio student!! It’s really short, so i might write more someday??

The room smells like bleach.

It always smells like bleach.

You reach for a loop, sterilize it over the flame, let it cool, and plunge it into the broth. Biology is one of those overlooked talents, but it’s close enough to chemistry so you rarely lose anyone.

Marissa disappeared a few years back.

You never liked Marissa.

You swipe the wet iron loop around the petri dish, treating the solidified agar with… you check the label. Acinteobacter baumanii. After setting the plate down, and covering it, you swipe the loop through the flame again.

Iron loops, salted plates, a dish of cream on the doorstep. All preventative measures that help you get through the day. You thumb at your iron necklace, which doubles as a stim toy, and paw at the salt in your pocket. Today feels.

Different.

“Good morning,” your lab partner, Delphinus says, coming into the room.

She smells like poppies and incense, so you avoid eye contact.

It takes another ten minutes for your other lab partner, Tulip, to show up, and the three of you continue to silently contaminate agar plates.

“So, any plans for spring break?” Delphinus asks, and you remain silent. You know it’s a probe, you know you never tell them where you’re going. If you tell them, then They will know.

“I’ll be going back to my house with my family,” Tulip says, and she hisses as her skin burns. She knows not to lie, it’s the deal she made first year.

Perfect grades, perfect jobs, perfect houses. Not a single lie.

“What about you?” Delphinus asks, and you remain quiet. If you lie, you will be punished. If you tell the truth, you will be taken.

If you promote silence, you will skate by.

You finish saturating you plates, and clean up your station before silently slipping out.

It takes fifteen minutes to walk from your lab to your dorm.

Well, in reality, it should only be a simple cross of the street. But you know where the sprinklers are. Today feels different, it feels.

Unreal.

You reach your dorm, your boots damp with the sprinkler water. You throw open the window, and smile at the crows. The crows have always taken a liking to you, you give them raw grain and set your computer to play biology lectures out loud every afternoon. Your personal favorite, Exodus, is playing with a younger crow today, her child. You smile at the young crow, and go for the bag of grain. Before sticking your hand out of the window, you make sure to thumb your iron necklace, just in case.

A sprinkling of grain for a feather, one from Exodus and one from her child, whom you name Siobhan. The crows sing their appreciation, and you sit against your wall, the quiet drone of your professor’s recorded voice lulling you away.

The crows have been your only friends for the last three years.

Other students don’t enjoy the idea of being left in the dark, they want to know, more more more.

“You’re too closed off!” “You never tell us about you!” “Come on, we’re friends now, just give me your name!”

Some whisper that you’ve been cursed, your GPA lends to that idea.

Some say you were born like this, and you’re simply too scared to tell anyone.

Other say that you’re one of them, and if you speak, your voice will destroy the minds of all who hear it.

It’s really none of that, it’s just that you’re a legacy child, when your father came here before you, and hopped around from major to major, he never carried himself from one place to another, he left bits and pieces of himself in many different places.

You’ve only ever had the one major, so you can’t have that luxury.

So you simply stay quiet.

The last time you spoke was orientation, day one, hour one.

It was your name.

Marissa, the cruel one that she was, she took you true name, and she twisted it, and tarnished it and burnt it, and you knew you could never speak up to that name, publicly at least.

But you could commit one horrible act, so people would forget your name.

And what the fae did to Marissa was worth every thing you gave, every word and sound you’ve ever uttered.

You never liked Marissa.

[x]

Scandalous (M) | 01

PARTS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

Summary: When you meet Taehyung in a bar one night, you don’t expect to fall for him. He was different, tattoos inked along his arms and a bright smile on his face. He was the opposite of everything you were; he was free – or so you thought.

Genre/Warnings: Socialite!AU, Badboy!Taehyung. Angst + Smut; It’s filth. That is all.

Words: 9.4k

A/N: First of all, I want to thank Dannie and Tay aka @pinkjxmin + @jungblue for helping me out with all of the plotlines and where I wanted to take this fic. I was originally going to make this all one fic but halfway through writing it, I realized it was going to surpass 20k and I wasn’t about to make everyone read an excessively long fic lmao. But here’s the first part to it! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do. xx.

Keep reading

  • Hermione: Luna, I have to go to the bathroom come with me?
  • Luna: Uhm... Why?
  • Ginny: Girls do not go to the bathroom alone Luna.
  • Hermione: We can't go to the bathroom alone... we might not come back. Cause no girl's ever been to the bathroom alone and survived. I mean think about it... I got attacked by a troll in my first year in a bathroom.
  • Ginny: and I went to the bathroom alone in first year, almost died because of Voldemort's Diary.
  • Katie Bell: [piping in from down the table] It's true. I went to the bathroom alone in Hogsmeade and walked out with a cursed necklace that almost killed me.
  • Luna: It could have been coincidences you know.
  • Hermione: No Luna, seriously. The last woman that attempted to go to the bathroom alone... well, it was 1937 and her name was Amelia Earhart.
  • Luna: What happened to her?
  • Hermione: She's still missing. That's what happened to her. now, can we go or what?
  • [the whole group gets up to leave together]
  • Luna: wait... Didn't Myrtle die in the bathroom?
  • Ginny: [nods]
  • Luna: good lord... why do we do anything alone at all!?!

“Ah, at last, the villain sleeps! It is only when he is no longer conscious that I can gather enough power to manifest. We can talk - but only briefly. And be quiet! The Minnesotan is a light sleeper.

My name is Martin Van Buren. I am - I was - the 8th President of the United States. I was a founding member of the Democratic Party, but turned coat in 1848 to run for President on the ticket of the Free Soil Party, for which the ghost of my former master, Andrew Jackson, cursed me to live forever, condemned to wander the Earth for all of eternity, burdened by the weight of my betrayals and failures.

In my eternal travels, I honed and perfected my magical talents, using them to defend the weak and defenseless from dark warlocks such as Lewis Cass. I thought myself unbeatable… until he showed up.

I have never seen such raw power. I never stood a chance - Mondale defeated me, turned me into chutney, and absorbed my powers and my essence. But still I lived - Jackson’s curse perpetuating the existence of my spirit even in the absence of my body.

So, I did as I have always done - found a way to turn my misfortunes to advantage. Mondale knows I survive, but does not know how self-aware I remain, and I have used that fact to my benefit. I have spent the last half-century searching for a weakness, something that can defeat Mondale once and for all. And now, I believe I have found it - a chosen one, one anointed to rid the Earth of the infection that is Mondale. Please, you must listen closely, and seek out this person. Their name is-

No! The wretched Presbyterian wakes! Please, there is no time! Seek him! Seek -

  N̜̰͍͚̗̫̰͉̙̳͔̭͍͘͜͠o͞҉̛̀͏͚̫̤̥̹̣r̶̝̱͚̹̖̠̣͉͎̰̳̻̀͠ͅm̵̧̛҉͇̳͉̫͙̫̜̪̝͔͔͔̟̦̯͖ͅ ̧̝̣͇̳͈̻̱͔̮̘̀͜C̥͔͓̖̭͈̱̰̦̗͉̭̪̺̺̀͠o̴̧͢͝҉͓̝̳̘͕̼͓̯͎̯̤̙̪l͞͏͏̶̤̩̦̙͍̗̱͉̥̠̘͉ͅe͞҉̨̣͈̹̫m͡҉̴̛̝̰̺̝͚̪͕a͎̩̥̲̦͢n̷̶̙͔̺͚̠̱͈̱͕̥̹͓͕̳̠̳͢”


To everyone at the Palace Theatre today:

I wish I could be there with you, but I’m currently surrounded by textbooks for some incredibly important exams. I’ll be there in spirit! Would much rather prefer to be there than revising, but sadly I have to get my priorities in order.

I hope everyone who does go has a magical time (no pun intended? Actually, pun intended) and I’m sure we will all treasure this cast forever, it really is the end of an era. I feel incredibly privileged to have got to see them, but also excited to see the new bunch after all these exams are over!

P.S. Tell them from me that I love and appreciate them, thank you.

This fandom is really full of the most talented and lovely people, @accio-hogwarts-a-history , @torestoreamends , @ohscorbus , @bounding-heart - to name a few, I haven’t spoken personally to many others - thank you for being so welcoming and answering all my many questions, haha.

From everyone who couldn’t make it, hope you all have a wonderful day!

And I’m not going to tell you that in every shining moment of happiness there’s that drop of poison, because hopefully we won’t get that today.

Here’s to the last show!

Only Us (Part 1/2), Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: Reader owns a bookstore that Lin often frequents.

Words: 1,301

Author’s Note: I’m about…¼ of the way into my next fic (An Alex Lacamoire fic! What? Turns out I can write something that isn’t Lin!). This came from me having ‘Only Us’ from Dear Evan Hansen on repeat for the past few weeks.

Warnings: Cursing, obviously.

Askbox | Masterlist | Part 2


The look your employee gave you as she walked by said one thing.

He’s back.

You rolled your eyes at the ideas that must have been going through her head.

She had this little fantasy built up. He was a regular customer whose name you never were able to catch because his head was always tucked too deeply into a book. You were a little bookshop owner. It all made sense to her.

“Why would he pick this bookshop out of all the ones in New York? It’s fate.” She’d whisper the last word ominously, disappearing behind a shelf.

You’d huff in response, barely catching the flash of grey that was his jacket as he retreated out the door.

He never spoke unless spoken to (something you weren’t exactly inclined to do), he was always helped by whoever was working with you. You severely wanted to save yourself from the embarrassment that was your co-worker’s intense questioning about relationship statuses and whether or not he believed in fate.

You’d peek at the register through stacks of books, never getting a good look at his face from the angle you picked. He’d be gone in another flash, no trace left behind.

“He’s very cute!” Your co-worker would promise as you sheepishly continued with work, ashamed to be pining off a man you’ve never even seen.

One slow afternoon found you alone in the store, having sent home your co-worker so she could get ready for a date. You considered closing a little early; the sun had already set and the streets were no longer littered with tourists looking to score authentic New York knick-knacks.

Just as you settled on closing up shop, the familiar bell above the door rang happily - cutting you off from turning down the lights.

“Welcome in!” You immediately greeted, your customer service grin already spreading across your face.

Oh, shit.” The customer said, making you whip around. “You talk!” He grinned, brushing the snow that had collected on his shoulders off.

“It’s you.” You bit the inside of your cheek, wincing at the tone you had used, “Sorry! I just wasn’t really expecting anyone else to come in tonight.” Your eyes shot to the light blizzard outside, fighting the instinct to investigate the stranger you saw on a daily basis.

“Right, well. I have some specific requests. I feel like you of all places should have it.” He reached into his jacket to fish out a little torn up notebook. He started listing off a few books - flipping through his notes as he went off about the respective authors.

As he babbled away, you finally found it in yourself to take him in. He held a slight grin as his eyes stayed trained on the notebook in his hands. His brow was strong as he concentrated, eyes dark - especially in the dim lights of your store.

You connected the pieces in your mind - right down to that all familiar voice.

Do I know you?” You blurted, cutting off the little tangent he had gone on.

“I don’t think so.” He brushed you off, suddenly nervous. “Anyways-”

“No, you look really familiar to me.” You insisted, taking a step closer in order to investigate further.

“Well, I come here almost everyday-”

Lin?” Your face brightened as it dawned on you. “Lin from Mr. Wallace’s English class?”

“Yeah.” He grunted, “How do you-” He took you in for a moment, the first time he had really inspected your face closely, “Y/N?” He gasped, moving to embrace you tightly.

It had been years, but you could identify his babbling from anywhere. He was just as lanky as he was then, but taller. His face was rounder and he now sported a little goatee that complimented his long hair well.

“You look good.” You told him honestly, breathing in his scent as he tucked you close.

“And you-” He pulled you back to an arm’s length, “-wow.” He breathed, “I can’t believe it’s you - I’ve been coming to this place for what? A year now?”

You nodded, still remembering the rainstorm that forced him in the door. He was soaked from head to toe without a coat on. Your co-worker had made quick work or getting him something warm to drink and a towel as you sorted books in the back, oblivious that your high school crush had stormed in.

You sprang into action, flipping the sign on the door and starting a fresh pot of coffee in the back. Tugging on his arm, you ushered him to two armchairs in the back. He shed his jacket and slung it across the back. His shirt read ‘Mr. Write’, and you found yourself grinning.

He was still as passionate about writing as he was back then. You remembered overhearing talks about the next one act he had written, what the musical was going to be that year.

So-” You started, “Interesting selection you’ve got here.” You pointed to his list, a mixture of musically driven books, historical biographies, and - for some reason - a book on the Polynesian islands.

“Some projects.” He shrugged. “You own this place?”

You blushed as he looked around, taking in the worn and mismatching shelves.

“That’s pretty fucking awesome.” He admitted, laughing just to laugh.

You hadn’t really seen each other since high school, sharing a few classes but never making the trek past ‘we know each other’s names’ when it comes to the path of friendship.

Lin was certainly a memorable high school student. He was loud, he was opinionated, he had friends everywhere but he still wanted to partner with you when it came to projects in English.

“You’re the smartest.” He’d say, “Besides me, obviously.”

You both passed the class, leaning on each other for support against the inevitable senioritis that struck both of you midway through the semester.

He was always a very infectious person, someone who made you laugh when you wanted to do anything but. Deeply philosophical at the ripe age of seventeen, asking questions that made your teachers roll their eyes.

As you sat across from him for the first time in nearly twenty years, every silly hope that he would ask you to prom rushed back.

What was the adult equivalent to prom?

He avoided the topic of his career like a champ, overly bashful and deflective which had you slightly on edge. You couldn’t - even with your extensive brain - imagine him at an office desk. He had to be out there, creating something amazing.

His phone buzzed, and he jumped at the time.

“Holy shit, it is very late.”

You had been talking for four hours, and you wanted nothing more than to continue.

“I really need to go.” He slung his jacket back on, zipping it to brace himself against the cold, “But-” He quickly tore a page from his notebook, scribbling away. “Here is my number, I really want to keep talking to you.”

He rushed a goodbye and was gone in a flurry, leaving you dumbstruck with a scrap of paper in the middle of your store. You turned the paper over in your hand to see that, yes, it was a legitimate number.

You floated home in a cloud that can only be described as a contact high from Lin’s presence. After a quick shower, you slipped into bed to review orders and to edit your employee’s schedule for the next month. Your fingers lingered as you opened a new tab.

Before you could stop yourself, you were typing Lin Manuel Miranda into the search bar.

Expecting nothing but a few Facebook pages, you were surprised to see article upon article containing his name somewhere. You settled on a random article by the New York Times.

Hamilton to Extend Run at Public Theater.

Oh.

Shit.

It’s Scorbus, Not Drarry, Rita

Rita Skeeter was writing down the last of her thoughts on the newest Hogwarts Professor when a group of kids came walking by all chattering excitedly. It as two names that caught her ever opened ears.

“No,” One gasped. “Potter and Malfoy? Are you sure?!”

“Oh yes,” Said the second one smugly. “It’s been happening for the last year apparently!”

“Well, that explains it all,” A third one spoke with a laugh. “Who would have thought though? What would their families say?”

“They took it rather well! Didn’t you see today while the parents were visiting? They told them! I would have been shocked but it went well.”

Keep reading

The first time Viktor had to take care of Yurio, the kid had been 12.

Hey Guys! Quick note! I had to post this one first before I posted the requested Sick Viktor, because it kind of leads up to some of the things I wanted to discuss in the next post with Viktor’s family (Considering we don’t know much about them). Also Viktor has long hair in here because I couldn’t remember when he cut it exactly. Also! Anyone who knows Russian or Japanese want to translate for me? I apologize if my translation is wrong. If anyone needs help with German, hit me up! Okay, here’s the fic. I’ll post the other one Friday (that one is requested from @shipping-it-like-fedex)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Viktor hadn’t thought Yakov would agree to it… maybe that’s why he offered in the first place. Whether Yakov had finally run out of options and deemed Viktor a suitable guardian for the remaining two days in Chile, or he had completely lost his mind, Viktor didn’t know. Regardless of the reason, Viktor found himself lying across an armchair in Yakov’s tiny room, flipping through a pamphlet about Easter Island, listening to his Coach lecture him about Yurio. Viktor sighed loudly, dropping the pamphlet in his lap and looked up to see the older man throwing a scarf in his bag.
The competition had ended yesterday, leaving two free days before they had to return to Russia. Yakov, however, received an unpleasant phone call from his soon-to-be ex-wife about some issues with their divorce papers, thus demanding he returned at once to deal with it. Unfortunately, this left Yakov in a tight spot considering one plane ticket back to Russia was hard to find, let alone two. Viktor had found it funny, watching the older man pace back and forth in the hotel lobby at midnight, cursing the airport and talking to Yurio’s grandfather on the phone. It wasn’t until Viktor had blurted out that he’d be more than willing to watch the kid for the next two days that he realized his mistake, but like he said, he hadn’t really thought Yakov would have agreed to it in the first place.
However, because Viktor had been dumb enough to offer, he was stuck with Yurio for the next two days. Viktor ran a hand through his hair, letting the long strands fall loosely through his fingers. All he wanted to do was soak up as much fun as he could before his flight, but now, that was looking to be a difficult task. Yakov was rambling off some numbers that Viktor probably should have been writing down, and kneeling under the bed, hunting for his left shoe.
“Yakov, I’ve got this handled. It’ll be fine. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Yuri will run off. One less kid for you to teach,” Viktor joked. He laughed loudly as Yakov opened the night stand, cursing the empty drawer before turning to face Viktor, “Viktor, I’m serious. He’s only 12. If you lose him, Nikolai will have both our asses! Do you understand?” Yakov said sternly. All the humor was drained from his face now, and instead replaced with an uneasy look that Viktor had never seen before. Viktor felt a chill run down his spine, and crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes, “Da, I understand. I’m an adult, you know.”
“Vitya, you might be 24, but you are far from being an adult.” Yakov laughed loudly. He started throwing the pillows off the bed, cursing in Russian. His flight was in less than an hour and he still needed to get to the airport, but considering he couldn’t find his other shoe, the airport would have to wait. He looked up hearing the younger Russian sigh, and snorted, seeing Viktor crossing his arms over his chest, his lip sticking out. He reminded Yakov of Yurio sometimes.
“You know child, you look the same now as you did when you were 17… and you still act the same too,” Yakov said, a small smirk spreading across his face.  
Viktor huffed loudly, throwing the pamphlet at Yakov as the older Russian continued to laugh. He sighed again and grabbed a hair tie from his wrist, pulling his hair into a ponytail. Sometimes he hated his long hair, it always seemed to get in the way. He sat up slowly, grabbing his phone from the table and looked around the room. He watched his Coach kneel to the ground again, pressing his face to the carpet, pushing his hand under the bed, searching for his shoe. Viktor smirked, opening the camera app in his phone, snapping a quick picture. He’d definitely upload that the moment Yakov left. #Coachhaslosthismind, #Coachloseseverything…evenkids, or #Whoputthismanincharge?
Viktor slide his phone in his back pocket and stood up, stretching, “Yakov?”
Yakov let out a muffled, “Hm?” He was halfway under the bed now, feeling for his missing shoe.
“Where’s Yuri?”
Yakov’s head popped up from under the bed quickly, panic etching across his face as he glanced around the room, “What? He was just here a few minutes ago! He- I swear- he- that boy is worse than you Vitya! He- I swear-”
Viktor sighed loudly, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go find him.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and kicked at the carpet under his feet before walking towards the door. The last two days in Chile were supposed to be an excuse for him to hang out with the remaining skaters, and have a good time soaking up as much culture, alcohol, and fun as he could before returning to his rigorous training schedule. But now he was stuck playing babysitter for a kid he barely knew. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He stopped briefly in front of the door before turning back towards Yakov, “Also, Yakov?”
Yakov sighed loudly, turning around to face Viktor, who stood in the doorway, “What boy? What do you want now?”
“Your other shoe is in the bag. It was the first thing you packed.” Viktor smirked, closing the door, hearing Yakov cursing his name.
……………………………………………………………………………………………

“I don’t understand what the big deal was. I was just petting some old lady’s cat,” Yurio mumbled softly, crossing his arms over his chest. Viktor sighed loudly, “For the last time Yuri, I wasn’t mad. All I said was if you run off I’d have to come after you, otherwise Yakov and your grandfather would have both our asses.”
Viktor glanced across the table at the small boy. Yurio had been in the hotel lobby, playing with one of the small kittens an elderly lady had brought with her from Germany while visiting her grandchildren. The only reason Viktor knew this was because the elder lady would not shut up. She stood and talked to Viktor for what had to be a good two hours, discussing her plans while visiting, and trying her best to give Viktor her eldest granddaughter’s phone number. It took several attempts, and a fake phone call before Viktor had managed to free himself from their conversation, dragging a displeased Yurio behind him.
Yurio slouched further in his chair, picking at the food in front of him, “I highly doubt you would be able to chase after me, old man.”
Viktor choked on the drink he’d been sipping nervously before setting it down on the table. He ran a hand through his hair, tightening his ponytail and leaned forward, “How old do you think I am, exactly?”
Yurio shrugged, slamming the fork down on the table, “I dunno, like 40.”
“I’m not that old,” Viktor laughed softly.  
“Compared to me, you’re ancient. Tell me, what was the Big Bang actually like, hm?” Yurio mumbled. Viktor eyed him. He knew from previous encounters and from hearing Yakov’s conversations, that Yurio had an attitude. He also knew he didn’t play well with others, and had a hard time fitting in with the other skaters. This was something Viktor hoped he’d never lose- a diehard determination, and a self-determined motivation. Considering the young skater was quickly making a name for himself, and had managed to earn a spot in the senior division next year, Yurio’s little fuck it all attitude would come in handy, and push him to try harder than anyone else.
Viktor raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat, “You know Yuri, that attitude will get you in trouble one day.”
Yurio kicked the table underneath him and turned to face the couple sitting next to them, “Whatever geezer.”
Viktor sighed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest and turned towards the bar across the street. He sighed again, spotting Chris and a few others laughing, slapping each other on the back playfully. At least they seemed like they were having a good time.
“You can go over there, you know?”
Viktor turned back to face Yurio. The boy was sitting up in his chair now, playing with his food again. He dropped his fork once more and looked up at Viktor, a blank expression painted across his face. Viktor shook his head, and smiled softly, taking another sip from his drink, “I’m here with you, so why would I go over there?”
“Look, we both know neither one of us really wants to be here. You can go over there, I won’t tell.”
Viktor exhaled and pointed towards Yurio’s food, “You should really eat something.”
Yurio shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest again. He shivered slightly and Viktor raised an eyebrow. It was nearly 90 degrees outside and yet the kid was wearing a sweatshirt. It hadn’t really seemed questionable until now. He grabbed Yurio’s hand from across the table and pulled the boy closer, causing him to stand up. Yurio squirmed in Viktor’s grasp, causing Viktor to tighten his grip. He eyed the boy carefully, taking in his features. Yurio yanked at his hand again, “What are you doing? Let go of me you buffoon!”
Viktor dropped his hand as the boy sank back in his chair, rubbing his wrist and staring at Viktor. “Viktor what the hell!” He yelled loudly, slamming his fist against the small table. Viktor continued to stare, his eyes scanning over the boy’s pale face. He didn’t look sick, just tired. Then again, he highly doubted Yurio would tell him if he was ill, and to be completely honest, Viktor wouldn’t either. But Yakov wouldn’t leave him with a sick boy, would he? He sighed loudly, faking a yawn and thrust his arms in the air, stretching noisily. He ran another hand through his hair and looked back down at the kid sitting in front of him, “I’m tired. How about we call it a night, da?”
Yurio glared at him from across the table. He let go of his wrist and forced his hands in his hoodie pocket. His head and stomach were beginning to hurt, and sleep sounded like a good idea. He nodded softly, feeling a chill run down his spine as the older Russian continued to stare. It was off-putting and creepy, and it made Yurio’s skin crawl. Viktor smiled again, and stood gently, holding his hand out for the boy to grab. He snorted as Yurio stood, smacking his hand away from him, pushing his hand back in his pocket, and shoved past him, walking towards the hotel.  
……………………………………………………….

Yurio woke with a gasp. He laid there, shivering as a cold sweat broke out over his body, and his stomach turned violently. He curled in on himself, letting out a soft groan, listening to Viktor snoring softly from the other bed. He swallowed as an uncomfortable warmth washed over him. He really didn’t feel well. Honestly, he hadn’t since this morning but with Yakov leaving, he wasn’t really going to voice his distress to Viktor.
Yurio could handle being sick, he was almost 13. Besides, if he was old enough to travel to foreign Countries alone, then he should be able to take care of himself. Still, a part of him wished Viktor would wake up, at least then he’d have someone to talk to, someone to share his pain. His stomach lurched, and Yurio bolted out of bed, nearly tripping over the blankets tangled between his feet. He slammed against the tiled floor in the middle of the bathroom, puking up acidic bile and the little food he’d eaten that day. He coughed loudly, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, and stood up shakily, closing the door behind him slowly. He felt tears well in his eyes as he stared at the mess on the floor, and knelt gently next to the toilet. His stomach groaned again and Yurio thrust his head into the ceramic basin, puking up another wave of stomach acid.
He coughed again, feeling the room around him heating up and wiped at the tears falling down his face. God, he felt sick. His head was spinning and the heat coursing through his small body was making it hard to concentrate. He coughed loudly as his stomach cramped again, and let out a half-choked sob, feeling the slimy liquid rising in his throat. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted Viktor to wake up… or maybe he didn’t. He wasn’t really sure. He pressed his forehead against the cold seat on the toilet, swallowing repeatedly, willing his body to stop.

…………………………………………………………………………

Viktor wasn’t really sure what woke him. He ran a hand through his hair and squinted at the red digits displayed on the alarm clock: 04:24am. He groaned softly, stretching his arms and spreading out on the bed. He could normally sleep through anything, storms, hail, tornados, fire alarms, hell he once slept through an earthquake; but for some reason he woke with a start, an uneasy feeling lurking in the back of his mind.
He sat up slowly, listening to the soft pattering of the rain outside the hotel window, shivering as the cold air touched his skin. He stretched again, running a hand through his hair and looked over to see an empty bed next to him. He flicked on the light on the bedside table and blinked a few times, letting his vision adjust to the soft light. He looked around the room trying to figure out where the boy ran off to, when he heard coughing coming from the small bathroom.
Viktor frowned, pushing himself off the bed, and walked softly over towards the bathroom. He knocked on the door gently, “Yuri?” He paused for a moment, not wanting to walk in on the boy if he was just using the bathroom. Viktor leaned against the wall next to the door, waiting for Yurio to answer. He heard another cough and winced. The boy sounded sick. Viktor should have known. He knocked again, letting his hand hover over the handle loosely. Viktor felt a chill run down his spine as retching echoed from behind the door. Shit!
He pushed the door open quickly, taking in the sight of the small bathroom. The boy was definitely sick, and by the looks of it, he’d been for some time. Yurio was huddled around the toilet, clutching at the white porcelain as if it was his only lifeline, choking up whatever was trying to leave his body. Viktor shuddered as he glanced at the floor in front of him. Vomit was splattered across the floor, and painted down the boy’s front. Viktor felt guilt wash over him. He was a crappy babysitter. It was his job, for at least two days, to make sure Yurio made it to the airport without dying, and it seemed Viktor couldn’t even wake up when the kid probably needed him the most. He sucked in a shaky breath, stepping into the mall bathroom, “Yuri?”
Yurio looked up slowly, resting his head against the toilet seat. He shivered, feeling his stomach lurch again as Viktor stepped into the tiny bathroom. What was Viktor doing here? Where was his grandpa- wait no. His grandpa was in Russia, so, where was he? He coughed loudly, spitting mucus in the toilet, and turned back to look at Viktor with a groan. His vision swarmed again and he felt his heart beginning to pound against his chest as Viktor stepped closer. Why was Viktor here? Where was he?
Yurio scooted back slowly, standing to a swaying world as Viktor called to him again. The bathroom seemed off-kilter and bright, and Yurio squinted against the harsh lights. His head was killing him, and he felt like the once cold bathroom was now a hundred degrees. Why was Viktor here? Where were they? Why was it so hot? No, why was it so cold? Yurio saw Viktor’s hand reach for him and he flinched, letting out a strangled shout.
Yurio slammed into the wall behind him with a loud smack. His heart was racing, and his vision wavered for a second as he stared at Viktor. Sweat was pouring down his face, dripping in his eyes and burning against his skin. He felt his knees buckle and crashed against the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and crossing his arms around him, shivering. He tried shaking his head to clear his vision but that only made his headache worse. He wanted his grandpa. His grandpa could make him feel better.
Viktor stepped closer, bending down slowly, confusion and worry clouding his face. He tucked a strand of his long silver hair behind his ear. “Yura?” He asked slowly, taking another step closer, grimacing as his foot collided with the vomit that decorated the tiled floor. The boy pressed himself closer to the wall trying to make himself small, tears still streaming down his face. He looked utterly terrified, and this concerned Viktor deeply. Yurio flinched as Viktor reached for him, letting out a choked sob, “Get away from me! Don’t hurt me!”
Viktor stopped, kneeling to the ground a few feet in front of the boy. The puke that was beginning to soak through his pajama pants was momentarily disregarded as panic flooded his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and took in the sight of the young boy before him. Yurio was shivering, but whether it was from the temperature in the chilly bathroom, emotional distress, or pure exhaustion, Viktor didn’t know. His face was coated with sweat, plastering his blonde hair to his face chaotically, and his clothes were an utter mess of vomit, sweat, and tears. Viktor sighed as he noted the pink tint that highlighted Yurio’s cheeks, and painted across his nose. Even from a few feet away Viktor could feel the heat radiating off him. His fever was high, that’s why he was afraid.
He sat there for a while, no longer caring about the mess in the bathroom, but instead on what he should do. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember what his mother use to do when he or his little sister were ill. He bit his bottom lip as memories flooded back to him, and sucked in a harsh breath, swallowing back tears. What had his mother done? What had she done when he came home with a high fever? He didn’t remember much, just… water. He remembered her forcing him in the shower. Viktor opened his eyes and pushed himself off the floor, walking over to the tub. He grabbed the hair tie off his wrist and pulled his long hair back into a messy bun, hoping it would be out of harm’s way. He turned the knob, letting the water run until it was lukewarm, testing it on his hand first, before turning back towards the small boy.
He bent down slowly, putting his hands out in front of him, “Yurochka,” he said softly as if talking to a scared animal, “listen to me honey, your fever is really high. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to cool you off, da?” Viktor took a step closer causing the young boy to cry louder, tears rushing down his face. Yurio pressed his chin to his knees, “Don’t touch me!”
“Yuri, honey, remember what I just said. I’m not going to hurt you,” Viktor said gently. Yurio blinked a few times trying to clear his fevered mind, trying to remember where he was. He felt like his skin was burning him alive, and his headache was making it hard to concentrate. He wanted his Grandpa. Hell, he wanted Yakov. He wanted someone to make him feel better, and he couldn’t understand why Viktor was the only one here. Viktor was just inches away from the trembling kid now. He winced as he pressed his hand against the boy’s cheek, feeling the burning heat scorching beneath his hand. Yurio sobbed, “I-I want g-grandpa.”
Viktor felt his heart break, and tears well in his eyes. It was easy when he was sick because he no longer yearned for his parents, he hadn’t since they kicked him out, but Viktor was also 24, so he was grown enough to be able to look after himself… mostly. But Yurio on the other hand, was just a boy, he was still a child, something a lot of people in the skating community seemed to forget. Viktor couldn’t possibly imagine what the 12-year-old was feeling, being ill, feeling sweaty and miserable, stuck in a tiny bathroom, in a foreign country, with an older skater he barely knew. Fucking hell, it would have been better to at least have Yakov here. At least Yurio knew him better than Viktor.
Viktor smiled sadly, tucking a loose strand of sweaty hair behind the boy’s ear tenderly, “I know lyublyu, but he’s not here. Just me, and I really need to bring your fever down. The shower will cool you off, and make you feel better, obeshchayu.”
Yurio glanced quickly at the water splashing against the tub behind Viktor. He watched in terror as it fell from the faucet loudly, drenching the sides of the tub as it connected with the harsh ceramic ground; it made his skin crawl, and his heart race. He hugged his knees tighter to his chest, digging his fingernails into his legs. Seriously, where the hell were they? He turned back to Viktor, shaking his head fearfully, “Nyet, I-I don’t want to!”
Viktor sighed softly, “I know Yuri. And I’m really sorry.” He bit his bottom lip, guilt coursing through him as he pried the boy’s arms away from his knees harshly. Yurio tried to yank them back, he tried to smack Viktor away; he didn’t want to go in the water, he didn’t want to get wet. The idea of letting something cold touch his skin, made his stomach flip, and struck fear in his heart. He kicked at Viktor, hoping to stop the older skater, but his movements were uselessly slow and ineffective. Viktor sucked in a shaky breath as the boy screamed again, choking out incoherent Russian, begging Viktor to stop. Viktor picked him up off the floor, and pressed him to his chest as the boy continued to struggle.  
It wasn’t until the water touched their skin that Yurio’s screams became disordered pleading. He smacked Viktor again, pulling at the loose strands of hair that had escaped the hair tie, screaming for Viktor to help. He tried prying himself away from Viktor’s strong grasp, angry curse words leaving his mouth roughly. Viktor felt tears gliding down his face as he held the boy closer, whispering soft Russian to him, trying to calm the boy down. Yurio cried for his grandfather, he cried for Yakov, and finally he cried for Viktor.
Yurio was shaking. The water washing over him burned his skin, and made his stomach turn violently. He retched loudly, feeling nothing but foul tasting saliva leave his mouth and drip down his chin. He cried again, begging Viktor to let him out, pleading for Viktor to help. His stomach heaved again, having nothing left to throw up, and instead resulted in sloppy hiccups. Snot ran down Yurio’s face, mixing with the tears that left his eyes, and Yurio grasped again at Viktor’s soiled shirt.
Viktor bit his lip again, pressing the boy tighter against his chest, praying he wasn’t hurting him. He shuddered as memories flooded back to him, remembering the panic he felt when the water had touched his overheated skin as a child. He inhaled loudly, remembering his mother trying to calm him down, remembering her singing to him. Viktor ran his hand over the boy’s back as Yurio heaved again. Yurio coughed loudly, “Vik*hic*tor, p-p*hic*le-lease.”
“Shh, it’s okay love. It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here,” Viktor whispered softly, running his hand once more through the boy’s messy wet hair. Yurio coughed again, his limbs growing heavy and slow. His body beginning to feel tired, and he smacked his cheek against Viktor’s shoulder, whimpering softly for Viktor to stop. He coughed again, feeling his hands relaxing around Viktor’s shirt, falling loosely at his sides. His skin wasn’t burning as much, but his head was spinning.
Viktor shifted the boy gently in his arms, feeling Yurio go slack against him as the boy began to relax. He wiped the tears that still fell down his face with his free shoulder, and rubbed gentle circles on Yurio’s back. Yurio groaned, and Viktor chuckled softly as hiccups began to echo from the small boy cradled in his arms.
The older Russian stood there under the shower, letting the lukewarm water drip over them, rubbing Yurio’s back, and humming to him softly. He pressed his lips against the smaller boy’s forehead, frowning slightly, feeling the burning heat still present against the 12-year-olds temple. Yurio groaned again, and Viktor shushed him gently, “Shh Yuri, just relax. It’s alright. Shh.”
“G-grandpa?” Yurio asked softly. He tried to move his arms to wipe the water dripping down his face but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He felt tired, and blinked slowly, hoping to stop the room from spinning. He coughed again, pressing his forehead against Viktor’s neck, taking in the strong aroma of soap, vodka, and strangely, peppermints. Viktor laughed softly, rubbing his hand over the boy’s shoulder blades, “Sorry Yurochka. Just Viktor.”
“V-Viktor?” Yurio groaned again. Why was Viktor here?
“Hm?”
Yurio coughed loudly. His mind was foggy and he sniffed as the water continued to wash over him. He felt cooler now, and the water that soaked through his clothes felt warm and comforting. His body felt sluggish, and his eyes were harder to keep open. He felt Viktor’s hand on his back, and closed his eyes, listening to his soft humming. He was so tired.
The bathroom was quiet except for the steady pitter-patter of water that splashed against the ground, and the soft hiccups that echoed from Yurio. Viktor sighed, turning the water up slightly as he felt the boy shift, and ran a hand through his hair. He stood there, humming the tune to one of the songs his mother used to sing to him when he was a boy, biting his lip as childhood memories flooded back to him in waves. He faltered for a second as his father’s words echoed loudly though his mind, I don’t have a son, not anymore! He wiped at some of the tears forming in his eyes and shivered against the lukewarm water touching his skin. He was getting cold, but if it was helping the kid, then Viktor would be more than happy to endure it.
Yurio whimpered loudly, grasping weakly at some of the fabric at the bottom of Viktor’s shirt. Viktor shifted the kid to his other side, running his other hand over the boy’s back, and began humming a different song- one Lilia sang to him once when he couldn’t sleep. Viktor smiled softly, closing his eyes and rested his chin on the top of Yurio’s wet hair, listening to the kid’s breathing begin to even out.

…………………………………………………………………….

“Yuri, you’re supposed to be in bed.” Viktor said sternly. He finished drying his hair with the towel, and turned to face the small boy. Yurio cast his glance down as Viktor flashed him a stern look. It had taken Viktor nearly two hours of standing under the warm shower for the 12-year-old to finally fall asleep, not to mention, for his fever to begin to drop. After he’d gently woken the boy, getting him to change into some dry clothes while Viktor dried his hair, he still had to deal with the mess in the bathroom, which took another hour. When he’d finally finished, he checked to make sure Yurio was still soundly asleep, before taking what had to be, the quickest shower of his life. Now, however, as Viktor opened to the door, he was surprised to see the small boy standing in the hallway, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, dragging on the floor.
“I-I, my grandpa, when I don’t feel well, he- sometimes he lays with me till if fall sleep…” Yurio trailed off, digging his toes further in the floor, hugging the blanket tighter around his skinny frame. He glanced up shyly at Viktor before looking down again at the ugly carpet. Viktor stood there for a moment, shock and confusion sweeping over him. Yurio never, even being how young he was, knowingly sought out attention. Worry coursed through him because Yurio was acting so out of character. Then it clicked. The boy was lonely. Of course.
Viktor smiled warmly before stretching loudly, “Come on Yuri, let’s go back to bed.” He placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, and led him to the messy tangled sheets. Light was beginning to seep through the curtains, and Viktor walked over, pulling them closer together, hoping to prevent daylight from oozing through. No avail. He sighed loudly and turned back towards Yurio, and chuckled softly. Yurio was a bundle of blankets and pillows, and Viktor fought the urge to grab his phone to take a picture. Instead he sat on the bed next to the 12-year-old, who seemed to scoot closer to Viktor.
The older Russian ran his hand through Yurio’s hair, feeling the feverish warmth beneath his bangs. Viktor sighed. He was relieved the boy wasn’t burning like he had been earlier, but he still felt worry in the pit of his stomach. He’d probably have to hunt for some children’s Motrin or something later. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost 8am now, and despite it being their last day in Chile, there was no way in hell Viktor was going to drag the kid out in the heat.
Viktor smiled softly as Yurio’s breathing evened out. The boy would probably sleep most of the day, and honestly, Viktor didn’t blame him because he’d probably do the same. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, turning the ringer on silent. He groaned loudly, seeing he had 18 missed calls from Yakov. He was definitely going to get a lecture from Yakov about this. He placed the phone back on the nightstand before turning back towards the boy. Viktor pulled the blanket further around Yurio’s shoulder, running his hand through the boy’s hair once more.
He leaned back against the headboards as Yurio shifted in his sleep. Viktor pulled his hair back again, tying it with one of the many hair ties littered across the nightstand, and crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t the world’s greatest babysitter, but all-in-all, he had to be doing okay.

…………………………

obeshchayu- I promise

9

Single - BadBoy!Calum Smut

inspired by Daddy Issues and Single by The Neighbourhood - masterlist

CALUM’S POV

God she’s beautiful.

The first time I’d seen her in a year and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Weddings almost always made me uncomfortable but with her in the room I never wanted to leave.

“You’re staring again.” My cousin, Luke, nudged me out of my daydream.

“Shut up.” I scoffed at the blonde boy opposite me, although avoided his eye contact and fiddled with the watch strapped across my tattooed wrist.

“It’s obvious you’ve still got a crush on her.” He laughed, glancing over his shoulder to where she was spinning round his baby sister with a grin lighting up her face.

I immediately felt my jealousy flare up and slapped Luke’s head round so he’d be facing me again.

“Wow I wonder why she’s not falling back into your arms?!” Luke sourly quipped as he rubbed his head.

I was about to curse him out but she came bounding over, begging us for a dance. She took my breath away, I was lucky she was talking to me.

“Come on you guys! It’s almost the last song!”

She loved weddings. She said she loved the meaning behind them, two souls becoming one. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her and nodded at her invitation.

“Luke’s feeling tired.” I lied through my teeth and he just lightly snorted at my attempt to keep him seated.

As I followed her to the dance floor I gave Luke the middle finger from behind my back to which I’m sure he returned his own.

The steady beat of the pop song that had been playing for the last few minutes quickly scratched out and was replaced with a slow song the second we stepped onto the hardwood. I could see she wasn’t expecting the sudden change but I couldn’t let her slip from my grasp. With a small cheesy grin I wrapped my hand securely around her waist and pulled her close to me, not hesitating for a second. I was sure I looked dumb with an uncontrollable smile on my face as I soaked her in whilst rocking side to side, but I didn’t care. It’s not like I could figure out how to get rid of it when I was around her. She seemed content at our positioning, maybe I had a second chance with her.

“What are you thinking about?” She looked up at me and reached her arms up around my neck.

Her touch that I had yearned for for too long sent warm sparks through my body.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, baby.” I winked before realising my mistake.

I can’t help calling her baby even though I shouldn’t. When we were together I barely called her anything else. It still felt right.

“Baby?” She whispered the word as if it was filthy. When I used to whisper it, it was.

“Slip of the tongue.” I apologised, tearing my eyes away from her in embarrassment.

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was acting like a bumbling idiot in front of her. I guess the year apart didn’t give me as much closure as I thought it had.

“No it wasn’t.” She spoke softly but she knew I was listening.

I didn’t know how to respond. I had no clever one-liner. I could only get lost in her eyes and leave my mouth parted ready for words that weren’t forming.

“Calum.”

I was rudely pulled from her gaze by a cold mutter of my name.

“Sir.” I pulled my hands away from her immediately, the absence of her touch making me feel hollow.

“Dad? Please…” She looked around at the busy dance floor, obviously not wanting to cause a scene at her aunt’s wedding.

“You stay away from her.”

Before I knew it I was being marched out the doors by the scruff of my smart white shirt. I lost my footing and stumbled onto the paved stones lining the front of the building. I fell forward but just managed to stay standing, turning on my heels to face the man that chucked me out on my ass for the second time in my life.

“I told you to stay away.” He spat at me like I was dirt, I didn’t know how to explain to him I was sorry for everything.

“I can’t… I love her.” It took everything I could to stop my voice from breaking.

“You lost that privilege when you broke her heart. You’ll never get her back.”

“I’d like to find that out for myself, thanks Dave.” The only person I needed to hear that from was Y/N herself.

I never meant to hurt her, and she needed to know. Before another word was uttered he reached out and slapped me hard across the face. It sounded worse than it felt but my vision spun as I touched my sore cheek in shock.

“Feel better?” I’ve been hit harder before, he has a weak swing.

The man in front of me seethed, his shoulders heaving up and down. He scoffed and shook his head at the ground.

“You’re a waste of space, Hood. I’m her father,” He took a few steps towards me but I stayed put, staring him down, “Do you understand what that means? I guess not, seeing as yours left you. I actually care for my daughter, and out of you and me, she will always pick me.”

My fists curled at my sides and I could hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. He was fighting dirty and it took everything I had not to punch the 50-something square in the jaw.

“See, that’s the difference between us,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’d never make her choose.”
He didn’t say anything else, just huffed and gave me a dirty look before making his way towards the muted music emanating from the wedding reception. I spat on the ground as he walked away, clenching my jaw before walking towards the wall of the fancy hotel and kicking it hard. I raised my fist and let it hover close to the brick and cement, furrowing my brows deeply and trying to reason with myself hoping my anger wouldn’t take over like it has done so many times before.

“Cal?”
There she was. Saving me from myself yet again.

“We shouldn’t be alone together bab-” I stopped short, dropping my head and sighing before finally working up the courage to look at her.

She looked ethereal. Her dress hugged her in all the right places and the crimson colour matched her parted lips. I studied every element of her face, afraid that after tonight I’d never see her again.

YOUR POV

“I’m sorry… about him.” You spoke, tentatively taking a step closer to the dark haired boy brooding in the shadows of the sun just beginning to set.

He looked good, his smart shirt had become crumpled - no thanks to your fathers rough handling - and was messily untucked from his ripped skinny jeans. His curly hair was sticking up on end due to his habit of running his fingers through it. Your eyes flitted down to his full pink mouth, the studs on either side of his lower lip instinctively making you pull your own through your bottom teeth. He raised his pierced eyebrow at you, reading you like a book and making you feel slightly insecure. He always knew what you were thinking, and right now that would be dangerous, because he looked even more gorgeous than he did a year ago.

“I don’t care about him, I want to know how you are. I didn’t mean to–”

You had forgotten how hypnotising his lips were.

“I thought you would come back for me,” You interjected, you had to stop him talking or you were sure you’d jump back into the arms of the boy who broke your heart, “When I heard that you left I didn’t know what to do. I–” You swallowed back the lump in your throat, Calum was an arms length away now, like he was being drawn to you, “I cried for days.” As you spoke your voice cracked and your tough exterior came crumbling down, tears slowly rolling down your face.

You felt strong arms around you, cradling you. You looked up at Calum through your wet eyelashes.

“I didn’t mean any of this, please,” He sounded broken, “I did come back for you, I did, I did,” He was muttering under his breath, until he fell completely silent, “Your dad stopped me seeing you… He didn’t tell you I came, did he?” He said in a faint whisper of realisation.

“W-what?” You felt dizzy.

Your father had said that Calum cursed you out, calling you awful names you didn’t want to believe. Turns out you shouldn’t have.

“He threatened me if I ever came back to your house, he said…” Calum drifted off, not wanting to upset you more.

You took a shuddering breath and pulled away from Calum’s embrace so you could look him directly in the eye. Everything you thought you knew could be wrong, you went through all that torment not because of Calum… but because of your father.

“You ignored every call I made to you in the last year. True or not true?” The stories of events that had happened last year were unravelling.
“Not true,” Calum scratched the back of his neck as he sighed and explained, “I threw my phone at a wall in a bar soon after that night, got kicked out and lost all the data. I didn’t have any money to buy a new one for months after that, when I could it was a shitty Nokia.”

“You cheated on me. True or not true?”
“What? I never– Who told you that?” Calum seemed outraged at that last accusation, it took him two seconds to join the dots, “Your dad.”

You nodded, hanging your head and staring at your feet; all the anger you had felt towards Calum dissipated. Your lungs felt like they had released a breath you’d been holding for months. The little broken boy you knew a year ago was still in front of you, still searching for a place to call home in your arms. And you were going to let him.

“You love me. True or not true?”

Your lips parted in a small gasp when you heard him ask his own question. Calum’s fingers hooked under your chin and tilted your jaw so you were gazing right at him.

“Do you even have to ask?” You could feel your heart swelling as if a fist was clutching it.

“No.” He gave you small grin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, watching your face carefully.

He looked at you as if you were fine china and he was afraid you’d shatter if he held you too tightly. You looked at him and saw art with a message only you could decipher. You held your breath as he leaned in close to you, your mouths mere centimeters apart. Closing your eyes you could feel the air from his lungs fanning across your skin as he spoke softly.

“I’ll never stop loving you.”

Your mouth broke into a small grin before he closed the gap between you two. All of a sudden it seemed as if he had been gone an hour and not a year, his lips caressing yours so expertly. Before you could stop yourself, tears were leaking down your face, you were overcome with emotion. A year of your life was wasted hating Calum for things he never did. Calum slowly withdrew from you, placing his arms on your shoulders and looking into your glassy eyes.

“Come here little girl.”

You collapsed at his words. He let you break down in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Safe.

You felt him kiss the top of your head, making you look up at the the rich dark brown colour of his eyes. No more words needed to be said, you wound your fingers into the thick curls at the back of his head and kissed him deeply. You were suddenly yearning for him. For his touch, his taste. His hands settled on your waist and held your hips tightly against his. As he did so an involuntary moan left your mouth, only encouraging the tan boy more. Tingles were igniting all over your body where your bare skin touched his and you had never felt more alive or more desperate.

“Need you.” You mumbled against his lips, a moan following your words as he took your bottom lip between his teeth and nipped gently.

Calum didn’t need persuading.

He tore himself away from you, somewhat reluctantly, and took your hand in his, beckoning you towards his car in the far part of the car park. He fumbled with the keys and unlocked the battered Jeep, letting you enter first. You felt like a kid again, making out at the back of school and trying not to get caught.

You moved to the far end of the backseat, pulling Calum in by his collar. How did someone manage to look so irresistible in just a plain white button down?

“Goddamn that shirt.” You mumbled as Calum crawled over you, smashing his lips to yours, sending a rush a wetness between your legs.

“Like it?” He grinned against your mouth, teasingly only giving you tiny kisses now.

“You know I do.” You tilted your head back so he’d start sucking on your neck.

Luckily he took the hint and began paying attention to the sweet spot near your ear, knowing it’d have you writhing. As much as you were enjoying the attention he was giving you, you felt like you had to repay the favour, you were aching to hold him. You reached and began to undo his buttons, finally pushing the fabric off his shoulders and revealing his toned torso to you. Your eyes darted across his chest, surprised to see additions to his arm of tattoos. You gently ran your fingers across the new ink, stopping Calum in his pursuit of branding your neck with his mouth.

“When did you get these?” You whispered, looking back and forth between Calum and his arm.

“Uh, a few months ago.” He shrugged, his hungry gaze fixated on your lips, making you break into a small smile.

“They’re nice.” You hummed as he ran his thumb across your lips.

“Still gotta take you to get your first.” He said, kissing your cheek gently, then your neck, then your collarbone.

You pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up and then grabbing the hem of your dress, that had ridden up to round your waist. You lifted it over your head and abandoned it on the car floor, letting Calum see you. His breath hitched when he saw what you were showing him. In small delicate ink read the word “Baby” on the left side of your torso.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the word. He startled you when he finally moved, grabbing your waist and kissing you with his slightly swollen lips.

You succumbed to his forceful grip, letting his hips rest between your legs. You reached between your bodies and unzipped his jeans sloppily, both of you now getting desperate for real friction. Neither of you cared that Calum was still half dressed, or that you still had underwear on, you just needed each other. Now.

Calum pulled away from you, looking at you for permission as he pumped his length, his trousers barely down his thighs. You laid your hand on his, pulling him back for a deep kiss. You let out a high pitched sigh as he sunk into you, the denim still on him providing a friction against your thighs you didn’t know could feel so good. Calum stilled in you, letting you adjust and just revelling in the feeling, his head sunk into the crook of your neck. You wound your fingers in his hair as he began to move, his need for you too great for him to tease. His length was stretching you blissfully, the feeling heightening your senses and tightening you around him. Calum was thrusting fast, spurred on by your moans. You whimpered as he hit your g spot, and you bucked your hips to meet him, the fast pace he had set would mean neither of you would last long. He reached a hand down between your bodies, the muscles of his other arm straining as they fought to hold him up over you. His skilled fingers began rubbing circles on your clit, causing you to arch your back and tighten around him. His hips stuttered and he let out a wrecked groan as you did so, his fingers working overtime to get you off first.

“Gonna cum?” He asked, knowing very well the answer was yes as your mouth was fixed in a permanent ‘o’ shape, “Gonna cum for me baby?”

“Y-yes.” You choked out, your hips bucking wildly as your released with a series of loud moans.

You reached up and dragged your fingernails down Calum’s chest as you whimpered his name, your high being dragged out as he continued to pump into you. He began to let out small grunts, desperately seeking out his release until he finally let go, groaning and his arms giving way, leaving his panting form to fall onto you.

He stayed inside you, both of you holding the other in silence, knowing the inevitability of having to let go but refusing to for just a few moments longer.

“Come with me.” Calum said, swiping his dark curls from his sweaty forehead and making an effort to sit up, pulling out.

You both shuddered as he did so, still sensitive from your orgasms.

“I want to,”

“But…?” Calum said, predicting your next word forlornly.

“I have a job here, friends, family.”

“I have that on the road!” Calum protested, trying to keep his voice calm as he pleaded, “I found these guys, we’ve made a band and people are liking it. We’ve been spotted by this massive management team and… I want you to be part of it. I need you by my side, or else none of it will be worth anything. Please babe.” His voice cracked and you knew you couldn’t say no.

Who were you kidding? Your job was long hours for minimal wage, you couldn’t trust your family anymore and all your close friends had moved away for work or university.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He seemed stunned, but quickly a massive grin broke out on his face.

You nodded reassuringly, “Okay.” Giggling as he threw his arms around you.

“I love you.” He mumbled into your neck.

“I love you more.”

“No you don’t.”

Chill, It Was Just A Prank- A Nate Maloley Imagine

*In which Y/N pranks Nate and they get in a fight because Nate can’t take a fucking joke lol…..*

Warnings: Cursing…. a lottttt of cursing was in this lol. I don’t why

“Hey what’s up you guys, it’s your girl, Y/NNNNN”, you dragged your name out while practically yelling into the camera. “And I am back once again with another prank on Nate, he just left the house to get some lunch for us so you know I thought it’s the perfect time for another prank on him”, you looked back at the door to see if Nate had unexpectedly come home so quick. “As you all know Nate pranked me last week, and I was not happy so I have to get his ass back with a breakup prank.” “Now, I know I may strike a nerve in Nate but, he striked a nerve in me when he dumped flour on my head, so enough talking, let’s get into the prank”, I said and afterwards running to the living room to set the camera down in a hidden spot.

After about 15 minutes of waiting for this prank to get somewhere, Nate strolls into our shared apartment with 2 bags filled with containers of food. “Hey, babe, I bought extra food for when we get hungry later”, Nate said clueless to the camera hidden in between a couple of books, giving my subscribers a perfect view of the event about to happen. “No problem, I have to talk to you though,” I said putting my skills from drama class in high school to the test. “Sure, what about”, Nate asked. “I’ve been thinking about, you know, us. I am really young, you are really young and you had the time to find yourself. When we started dating, I just got out of high school and even now, I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing with myself”, I said trying to sound convince-able. See, Nate knew when I was lying like the back of his hand. “What do you mean? Aren’t you doing YouTube? You told me you were happy doing that”. Shit. “I mean, yeah, I am happy doing YouTube, but it’s not really a lifetime career, that I can really pursue, you know? But anyway, that’s not the point”. Nate just stares at me intently. “I love you so much to the point where I don’t know what to do with myself.” “And I love you too, you know that”, Nate interrupts me. “But, I think we need to break up”, I say slightly hesitating, being afraid of the outcome of my painful words. “What?”, Nate asks, with pain in his voice. “I said, I think-”. “No,no,no don’t say that again”, Nate cuts me off with slight anger mixed with sadness in his voice. “You know, what?,” Nate says as he grabs his jacket and heads for the front door. I make sure he closes the door behind him, before I grab the camera, from it’s hiding spot and run out the door hoping to catch up to Nathan. 


“NATE! WAIT! IT WAS A PRANK! IT WAS A PRANK!”, I yell from the top of the staircase. At this point, Nate’s face turns from sad to just straight up anger. I turn the camera to face me. “Well, I say this prank deserves ten out of ten fucking stars because I got his ass back. I will see you guys in the next video. Love you, bye!” I turn off my camera and focus my attention to Nate who is sitting on the steps facing away from me. I sit next to him making sure not to touch him, unsure of how he will respond. “You think that was fucking funny, Y/N?”, Nate says raising his voice a little. “Chill, it was just a prank”, I say getting an attitude from how he was acting, like it was just a harmless prank, right? “THAT’S NOT A PRANK, Y/N. YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME JUST NOW”, Nate begins to yell, he was getting fed up. And so was I. I mean it was a fucking prank. Wait, did he just say I scared him? “What do you mean i scared you?” “Y/N, I really fucking love you, like more then weed”, Nate lightly chuckled. Damn, he loved me that much? “And when you said that we needed to breakup, I got so terrified, because, you’re the one, Y/N. Like I never say sappy shit like this but, you’re the one I wanna marry, the one I wanna have kids with. Don’t ever do that again, like I swear to you, I was about to cry”, Nate smiled. “Awww, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way”, I said while hugging him. I peck his lips before he says,”Don’t worry, I gonna get your ass back”. “Pfft, yeah right”, I say laughing. But really, deep down inside, I was terrified for what Nate had up his sleeve.


A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this imagine as much as I did writing it. I guess my uploading schedule is every two weeks, I don’t know. Don’t forget to send in requests. I love you guys and I hope you have an amazing day/night. Okay, my wrists are hurting now, bye!

You Stole My Heart

Request: Hi, I read that you were taking requests? Could you do a laf x reader where he helps her come down from a panic attack? I’ve been having a lot of attacks lately and it would be amazing if you could. Love your work by the way! ❤️

Lafayette x fem!reader (as described in request)

Warnings: panic attacks, cursing, anxiety, mild argument

Authors Note: thanks for all the love y'all are sending me! really appreciate each and every one of y'all 💙 hoping this gets out before Christmas, so merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/ Happy Kwanzaa/ Anything in between! Happy Holidays from my blog to yours 🎄

Y/N = Your name
Y/L/N = your last name
Y/F/N = your full name
Y/N/N = your nickname

Honestly, the amount of stress that you were enduring was too much to bear at the moment, and you were about to explode into a mess of anxiety and caffeine.
~
You lived in New York City, along with, it seemed, half the country. After living in a sleepy town your whole life, you wanted to look for something bigger, somewhere to go on an adventure. New York wasn’t what you had in mind, but from the way you’d grown up on Broadway music, New York was depicted as a city of dreams.
More like a city of nightmares.
Ever heard the phrase; the city never sleeps? When you live in said city, you never got any sleep either.
It probably wasn’t the best decision you’d ever made.
~
There’s this thing called anxiety.
You’d had it ever since you could remember.
The feeling that you’re completely out of control, that you can’t do anything about your situation.
Not a cakewalk.
But you’d never let it stop you from living your life back in your old town. Why did it stop you here?
Social anxiety was something you’d never realized you’d had until you had been thrown into an unknown world, with unfamiliar people and an altogether unpleasant aura. You’d grown up with the same people, always had the same group of friends. Looking back at it now, it wasn’t the healthiest lifestyle, to always be with the same people. Yet, it had a sense of comfort. Like a childhood toy. Something you could always go back too.
~
New York was an unfriendly place, there were no doubts to that. Catcalls as you walked your street everyday made you choose to go an opposite way, rude baristas that had caused you to move to an out-of-the-way coffee shop. Anything and everything that you absolutely could do without in your life.
Yet, somehow Life had seen you struggling and thrown you a security blanket.
You met Lafayette at a park, where you had been crying a few moments earlier. Your boyfriend, from your hometown, had just called you, saying that maybe this relationship wouldn’t work out, long distance at least.
You had hung up, and rushed to the first place you could find without publicly humiliating yourself, which is why you found yourself on a park bench, crying quietly.
After your self-led pity party had come and gone, you wiped away your tears and ran smack into a very tall, very handsome man, causing you to spill your coffee all over yourself.
“Oh mon dieu, je suis désolé de ne pas vous y voir!”
He blushed.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
The heavy accent in his voice made you a bit more attentive.
You smiled.
“It’s alright, this coffee wasn’t good anyway.”
You tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can.
“Still, I feel bad. Would you mind if I bought you another cup of coffee? As an apology.”
“Oh, you don’t need to. It was an accident-”
He smiled, showing off a swoon-worthy grin.
“Ah, but I would like to do so. For you.”
You contemplated this for a moment.
Creepy stranger possibility? He didn’t seem like the type.
Very possible friend? He seemed very upbeat and happy, the very person you needed in your life at the moment.
And, as a bonus, he was VERY attractive.
What was the harm?
“Sure, why not?”
He immediately brightened.
“Lafayette.”
“Y/N.”
~
The coffee was warm in your hands as you sipped the vanilla mocha.
“Mm. This is wonderful, Lafayette.”
He nodded.
“My favorite place. I don’t know from where your old cup came from, but I know that this place tops it.”
You vigorously nodded.
~
You strolled through the park until long after dark, talking. You found out that his accent came from France, where he had been born and raised. He’d moved from France to start a bakery, and his favorite pastry was a raspberry-maple scone. You were laughing all night long as he told of his adventures in France, and some of the struggles that he had making translations in America.
“I once couldn’t say ‘anarchy’ in a college course, so I said ‘what happened here in America in 1776.’”
You laughed, and then stopped in front of your apartment.
“This ones mine. Thanks for tonight, Lafayette. I had a lot of great laughs, which I especially needed. Thank you.”
He smiled, and took your hand and kissed the back of it.
“Anytime, mon ami. Have a good night.”
“And you as well.”
You closed the door to your apartment, and sank to the floor, a wide smile on your face.
Did that just happen?
~
The rest was history. You’d had many more outings, and you had so much fun on each of them. You two had grown comfortable together, enough for you to call him “Laf” and to play with his wild hair, and for him to call you “mom amour” and to tickle you constantly. Enough for it not to be weird when you cuddled up next to him, and he wrapped his arm around you. Random hugs, cooking together, movie nights…
All things that you had never realized you were missing out on until you were experiencing them. And things that you never realized you took for granted until you lost them.
~
Laf’s business took off in the next year of your friendship, so much that he had to extend store hours, and be kept in the office until much later. You didn’t see him as much, he barely ever had time. It wasn’t like you weren’t busy either. You had finally found a job that you didn’t hate completely, and coworkers who only mildly hated you. You had enrolled into college again, to get your masters degree. Your life was hectic, to say the least. And sometimes, it can get all too much to bear.
~
It started one night, you and Laf hadn’t seen each other in weeks. You’d only texted each other a couple times, and you absolutely missed your best friend. Finally, you decided to call him. You were in the middle of the most stressful week of your life, and you really needed just a night to plainly relax, at least for a few hours before your anxiety would get the best of you and you’d work and work like tomorrow wouldn’t arrive, until the early hours of morning.
Usually, Lafayette would be there to make sure you got to bed before the sun had began to rise, but those mornings had become fewer and fewer now.
So you called him.
You waited a couple of rings, and still he didn’t pick up. He always answered. You’d only heard his voicemail once or twice.
“Bonjour! You’ve reached Marquis de Lafayette, and I am unavailable at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll call you back, oui? Au revoir!”
You sat in silence for a moment.
“Hey Laf. Long time no see? Call me back and we can hang out sometime, yeah? Okay. Love you. Bye.”
You hung up, and put your knees to your chest. He always answered to you. He never missed a call.
15.
30.
45.
An hour had passed, and no call back. You were worried now, and decided to go see him. You grabbed your keys and phone, and closed your door behind you.
~
After you’d arrived at the bakery, you asked the girl with pink hair behind the counter if Lafayette was there. She went to the back of the shop, and came back moments later.
“Sorry, he’s not here.”
You sighed.
“Alright. Thanks anyway.”
You headed out of the shop, and towards his apartment complex.
If he was home, surely he would have called you back by now. You checked your phone one last time, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally missed his call. You knew the answer before you’d even opened your phone.
Nothing.
So you headed towards the doors, and up to level 10, a number you had pressed on that elevator so many times. You made your way down the hall, to door 34.
You and Laf had always joked that you came here so often that the hallway you had to go down to reach his door would eventually wear ruts into the carpet from you walking down it so often, back in the days where you would make random visits for movies and popcorn.
You rapped on the door twice, then four times, a code you had made up so that you wouldn’t go opening your door to strangers at night.
You paused, and waited for a minute. You heard steps coming towards the door, and then it slowly opened.
A disheveled Lafayette emerged, and his eyes widened when he saw it was you.
“Y/N? What are you doing here?”
You swallowed back a gasp.
Lafayette had never, not once asked you that. He’d always would have been kinder, more welcoming.
“Uh, hey to you to Laf.”
You attempted to lighten the mood, ignoring the fact that he’d said your full name, something he very rarely ever said, unless he was talking about something very serious.
“I-”
You didn’t know what to say.
“Sorry, Y/N. I’m a bit busy at the moment. Mind if I call you sometime else?”
You took a step back in surprise.
“Oh.”
You felt tears starting to brim at your eyes.
“Oh yeah. Sorry-”
You could barely choke out a sentence.
“Sorry for bothering you.”
You whispered, before you took off down the hall and into the elevator.
“Come on. Come on.”
You quickly pressed the doors closed, and nearly collapsed on the floor.
He pushed you away.
You knew it.
You were annoying. You had just pushed your best friend to the point of where he couldn’t stand to be near you, to talk to you.
“What have I done?”
You ran out of the apartment, and quickly rushed home before you could collapse in the middle of New York City.
Sprinting into your apartment, you shut the door and locked it, before pressing your back against the door and sliding to the ground.
You cried silently, tears streaming down your face, your breathing becoming short, quick gasps.
You knew what was coming next.
Your vision became slightly clouded as you curled into a ball at the front of the door, trying to calm yourself down, unsuccessfully.
You felt like you were suffocating, and your heart was pounding in your ears. You were shaking, and your cries became loud sobs as you gasped for air.
You could barely hear the knocks on your door, and even if you could, you wouldn’t had been able to get up, to answer the door.
Your heart rate intensified as you heard your name being called through the door, in voice you vaguely recognized but couldn’t comprehend.
You heard a scrape in the key lock, and the door being opened.
“Y/N!”
Lafayette dropped to his knees beside you, and he brushed your hair out of your face. You flinched and nearly jumped out of your own skin. You hadn’t even realized that he was next to you.
“Mon amour, are you alright?”
He asked in a slightly panicked tone, confused that you were scared that he touching you.
You cried harder, and gasped for air.
“Come on.”
He touched your arm tentatively, and when you gave no negative reaction, picked you up bridal style, and carried you to your couch, where he carefully laid you down.
“Shh, it’s okay amour. You’re okay.”
He spoke softly to you.
Laf stroked your hair, cautiously at first, but then with more assurance as you regained your normal breathing, and your heart rate slowed down. He hugged you close as you began crying again.
“Laf, I’m sorry. I know I’m horribly annoying. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
He looked at you quizzically.
“Y/N, you weren’t bothering me. What on earth made you think that you were?”
You hiccuped.
“Well, I thought you weren’t answering my calls because you were getting tired of me…”
He scoffed.
“Y/N, you haven’t left my mind since I met you! Do you know what an incredible woman you are? Beautiful, smart, witty, and independent. And you think I could get tired of that? If I ever did, I’d have to slap myself and tell myself to get a grip.”
He chuckled, but soon resumed a serious face.
“Y/N, I could never get tired of you. Or think that you’re annoying. You don’t need to be sorry for anything. Except well…”
You faced him.
“Except for what?”
He glanced up at you shyly.
“Well, except for stealing my heart.”

I was tagged my one of my moms, @mychemicalchinchilla



Rules- Tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better. What if I don’t want to get to know anyone better?



•Zodiac sign- Scorpio



•Height- 5'6"



•Last thing you googled- “how to convince people that you aren’t possessed by satan”



•Favorite music artist- Frank Iero. I don’t know him personally but people tell me he’s very amazing.



•Song stuck in my head- “Kill All Your Friends"



•Last movie you watched- the exorcist



•Why did you choose your URL?- idk maybe because it’s my name



•Do you have any other blogs?- No



•What did your last relationship teach you?- I don’t date I just curse



•Are you religious/spiritual?- Satanist I mean what



•Favorite color- Blood red



•Average hours of sleep?- I don’t sleep I just curse people with my face



•Favorite characters?- Idk Fun Ghoul is pretty damn great



•Lucky number- 666



•How many blankets do you sleep with?- n o n e



•Dream job- I just want to curse people


I’m not tagging anyone because no

IMPORTANT PSA: Attention all Tumblr User

Dear Tumblr User,
I am writing to inform you that Sherlock Season 4 will air in 31 days, and in the interest of your health and safety we advise you to not approach this site on the evening of January 1st 2017. The Sherlock fandom have patiently sat by you through the trials and tribulations of your fandom over the last 3 years, and we politely ask you to do the same. Below are some guidelines to help you.

 HOW TO SPOT A SHERLOCKIAN 

- Wrapped in a fluffy blanket
- Mumbling “Miss me?”
- Chanting “Johnlock”
- Cursing someone named “Mofftiss" 


 IF YOU SPOT A SHERLOCKIAN, FOLLOW THE RULES BELOW 

- Considered dangerous and volatile. Approach at own risk.
- Do not interrupt
- Fetch tea and a shock blanket. Leave to the side
- Supply tissues or any other sufficient water-absorbent material

If you need help dealing with a Sherlockian, please consult either the Doctor Who or Supernatural fandom. They are equipped to deal with any situations that arise. 

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Thank you, and enjoy your Christmas

anonymous asked:

reactions from mccree, sombra & reaper (my holy trinity!!) when their s/o gets badly injured in the middle of a fire fight protecting them???

McCree

Jesse’s armor wasn’t the best in the group’s. It could certainly protect him from a snipe to the chest, but not a hail of bullets from a minigun. He figured he could step out of hiding with Deadeye, take out the bullet-spewing turret, and get back to his team. But as soon as he came out of hiding, his hand hovering over Peacekeeper, he quickly realized he couldn’t win this quick draw. The turret was immediately alerted and started shooting, easily ripping through the light armor he wore.

Still, he took it and tried to see if he could hold out longer; just enough to let Deadeye lock on. But suddenly, someone slammed into him, grabbing him from the front, taking the rest of the bullets, and tackling him back into his hiding spot. At first, he thought it was the enemy, and he was about ready to kick them off. But then he focused and saw his s/o on top of him, wincing as their stomach bled out.

“[Name]!” he cried, quickly sitting up, “What the hell?!”

“Yeah, really!” they barked, “What the hell were you thinking?! Walking in front of a minigun like that!”

“I was gonna take it out!” he argued.

“No–agh–no way you would have lasted!” they fought back the pain.

“Well…” his voice got quieter as he watched the blood pooling around his partner, “…Now look what you’ve done.”

Sighing, he dragged them into his arms and began carrying them back to base.

“I’m fine, I can keep going.” they tried to say.

“No way you would have lasted,” he shook his head, “And, hey, let me know the next time you risk your life saving me.”

At that, [Name] gave him a weak smile and rolled their eyes.

“Let me know you walk in front of a minigun again.” they sighed.

Sombra

“Mierda! Mierda! Mierda!” Sombra cursed as she ran through the Overwatch watch point.

She had just gotten away with a good amount of precious info, but the watch point had stepped up its security game since the last time she was there. Now all the alarms were going off as she dashed through the halls with her invisibility cloak on.

“Sombra, what’s going on?” Reaper growled from her comm link.

“They’ve got tougher security now. Set up a trap for me this time.” she growled back.

“You have the data, though?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it!” she whined.

“[Name] is with you?” Reaper asked.

“We split up a little earlier, I’m sure we’ll meet up later.” Sombra replied.

[Name] was her significant other, and she wanted to look out for them while on missions, but in this case, she’d just have to hope they can manage on their own. She continued to spring through the base, looking for an exit when her invisibility wore off. It wouldn’t have been a problem if a group of agents hadn’t seen her suddenly appear out of thin air.

They all shouted and pointed when they saw her, and one whipped out a nice, juicy grenade for her. She froze up in panic as they lobbed the grenade at her, it plinking to the ground at her feet. By the time she realized she needed to set a translocater to get away, it was too late. Sombra shut her eyes and braced for impact, when someone bulldozed into her, knocking her out of the room and into the hall.

For the first few seconds, she was a little dazed, ears still ringing from the blast. But when she finally gathered her bearings and sat up, she saw [Name] hunched over against the wall, a big gash in their side. They had taken the majority of the blast for her.

“[Name]!” she gasped, “…Joder…You saved me.”

Her partner just looked up and tried to give her a smile through all the pain they were experiencing.

“We need to get you out of here,” she said quickly, and went back to her comm link, “Gabe, [Name]’s hurt really bad! I’m requesting backup!”

“No,” was his stern response, “You got the data, now return to HQ.”

“What about [Name]?” Sombra snapped.

“I don’t care what happens to your stupid girlfriend/boyfriend,” Reaper snarled, “Just get the files back here in one piece.”

“Gabe, I can’t believe–Gabe! Gabe!” Sombra shouted into her comm link as Reaper signed off on his end.

Looking back to her s/o who was giving her a hopeless expression, Sombra straightened up and helped them to their feet.

“C’mon, [Name], I’m not leaving without you.” she promised them.

Reaper

His clawed gloves became soaked in blood as Reaper held his s/o in his arms. They looked back up at him, trying to put on a brave face, but he knew they were far from ok after taking a snipe like that.

“What were you thinking?” Reaper groaned.

“I can’t let lose you, Gabriel.” they mumbled, cringing as he continued skimming their bullet wound with his gloves.

“I’m already lost, you know that,” he droned, “I died a long time ago, so don’t waste yourself on a dead man.”

“Whatever you say, but I don’t regret it at all.” they tried to chuckle up at him.

“So you don’t regret the potentially fatal bullet embedded in your shoulder?” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Not if it’s for you.” they smiled.

He let out an irritated sigh, but his s/o could tell he was smiling ever so slightly under his mask. No matter how many times he’d try to tell them he wasn’t worth fighting for, they’d just say how they wouldn’t care and that they’d do it anyways. Reaper just wished it wouldn’t get them hurt so badly. If they died, then he’d die a second time. Lifting them up in his arms, he carried them back to base before heading back out into the fight.

EXIT

Summary: A super short one shot based off of Mino’s EXIT trailer. Semi-adult content. You’ve been warned.
Genre: Mino x Reader
Word:890

Disclaimer: I do not own any gifs used. They belong to their rightful owners.

_________

You ran a cool finger over your lips as your eyes stared up at the ceiling. The warmth of the mattress a stark contrast to the cold brick that dug into bare skin hours before.  Your breath hitching as the ghosting sensation of large hands grabbing, fingers bruising, into your thighs set your lungs on fire.

You closed your eyes. Tried to chase the memory that was dragging up fresh feelings. It had only been close to two hours. That was the only reason it was so vivid and bright, like the paintings you’d been staring at before he’d made his entrance.

Both of your fingers playing in a dangerous dance, as you tried to concentrate on the abstract artwork. He was looking at you, a light smile tugging up the corners of his full lips. You refused to look; to acknowledge him the way he blatantly regarded you. Only allowing yourself a moment to admire him through your peripherals.  

You should have pulled your hands away when you felt the first brush of his fingertips teasing yours. Testing to see how far he could take it. He’d taken it as far as he could go and you allowed every step. Feeling like a voyeur in your own life until the moment his hands traced every curve of your skin.

Heated lips kissing feverishly until he consumed every sigh of bliss. Your lips purring your approval against his own.

It was only meant to have been a simple drink, leading to a simple walk around the new art gallery that’d opened up down the street. You told yourself you would keep it innocent. Instant sexual attraction with a perfect stranger was movie status. It held no real weight in the real world. That’s what you’d told yourself fervently.

But with every step, every slight intrusion of his body into your personal space, he made it harder to tell yourself that lie. It was a lie to protect yourself. To keep you from doing the wrong thing. You didn’t want to be right or wrong around him, though. You just wanted him.

So when he pulled you outside the EXIT door of the gallery you didn’t protest. You didn’t bother with unnecessary questions. Fleeting, “Where are we going’s?” and “What are we doing?”

All the answers to those questions you already knew. Even if a part of you didn’t know, you didn’t bother asking. The strength behind how he led you along let you know right away; this wasn’t a simple stroll. This action held purpose. He had a plan for you and whether you’d admit it out loud or not, you were all too eager to find out what he had planned.

He didn’t disappoint as he dragged you into an alley. His body encompassing yours as he filled your personal space, making it his own. A strong hand wrapping around the back of your neck. Leaning it back just enough to give him the perfect angle. As soon as those lips you’d admired in secret pressed against yours, you knew he wouldn’t be met with resistance.

His thumb caressed the line of your jaw, and lips making eager work of yours. You opened to him without any need for prompting; your fingers curling tightly into the waistband of his jacket. His lips were so delicate, yet rough. Gliding his bottom lips against yours. His nose teasing across yours like a butterfly kiss. Somehow sending sweet signals of a chill down your spine.

The alleyway was brazen; an open threat of being caught clinging like a twisted seduction in the air. With every touch, every caress, and every kiss of his lips against yours you found yourself helpless. Quiet pleads for him to go further; soft moans elicited through grazes of teeth and lips across your neck.

There was no fight from you when you felt his hands draw your dress up your thighs. His fingers playing along the band of your panties. Your hands only fumbled helplessly at his belt. Your desire outmatching your need to appear collected. The need to feel him was intoxicating and it just wasn’t enough.

His large hands wrapped around your ass, and used it to hoist you up until your legs wrapped around his waist. He pressed you harder into the brick of the alley’s walls to keep you in place. So his hands could roam your body; unfolding the cloth from your breasts and exposing them to the chill December night. His hands squeezing and fingers lightly pinching on the delicate buds.

You needed him and moaned the thought into existence. Unashamed to plead for it as your fingers wind in his hair. His hand having to cover your mouth as he entered you; moans and curses reverberating between thick fingers as heavy thrusts pressed your skin into the bricks.

After it was all said and done, between goodbye kisses, and lasting touches. Names were finally shared, like an afterthought. Staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying the moment again, you found yourself remembering the way his lips curved as he smiled. The way they formed around each syllable of his name, that you finally spoke it into existence:

“Mino.”

You Finally Got A Date

REQUESTED BY ANON.

Title : You Finally Got A Date
Pairing : Young!Peter Hale x Reader
Word Count : 1,494

A/N : I’ve never written young Peter Hale before and I got carried away writing this one. oh, shit.

Keep reading

Courage the Cowardly Dog Starters
  • But creepy stuff happens in ___
  • Stupid dog!
  • You made me look bad!
  • I'll save you!
  • The things I do for love.
  • I know I'm not gonna like this.
  • I just know something bad is going to happen.
  • What do I do? What do I do!?!
  • Where's my dinner!?!
  • So good to see ya.
  • Would you like a cup of tea?
  • I'm ugly! UGLY! UGLY!
  • There's nothing I can do, nothing at all.
  • You twit.
  • You look good enough to me.
  • Something smells fishy.
  • Return the slab, or suffer my curse
  • What's your offer?
  • This night, you will be visited by three plagues, each worse than the last
  • Well judging by the markings and the obvious age of the relic, I'd have to say it would be...GARBAGE!!
  • That freak's not setting one freaky foot in this house!
  • Hello new friend my name is ___
  • The words you hear are in my head.
  • I say, I said my name is ___ and I've been very... NAUGHTY.
  • Where's my chair?
  • Hey! That's my washing machine!
  • I don't know why I'm doing this. But I like it.
  • This is all your fault!
  • Let me lay down the ground rules
  • Remember that and we won't have no trouble.
  • You wanna piece of me!?
  • He's stupid, right?
  • I don't know why I thought that would work.
  • That is the worst case of ___ I have ever seen.
  • I hope that's the sound of dinner getting made in there.
  • Sad, isn't it?
  • A little sport before dying?
  • I wish you hadn't done that.
  • You're gonna make hamburgers?
  • Where's my burger?
  • Where's my breakfast?
  • I'm starving to death!
  • Who the heck are you?
  • Help!Help!help!
  • It appears that I am being kidnapped!