dilapidated houses

9

Rethinking the Split House in Shanghai

The magical lane houses, which were once the dominant fabric that made urban Shanghai the intoxicating place that it was in the 1930s, are now slowly being demolished, taken over by high-density developments all over the city. Neri & Hu Design and Research Office was commissioned to reconstruct a dilapidated lane house left with almost nothing except its glorious shell in the historic and artistic Tianzifang area in Shanghai, and the mission was to transform it into three separate apartment units.

Neri&Hu’s strategy was to rethink the typology of the lane house–keeping the split level formation, a typical trait to lane houses in this city, and add spatial interest through new insertions and skylights to accentuate the architectural integrity of such a typology, contemporizing it for today’s lifestyle.

Follow the Source Link for images sources and more information.

a fragment | (m)

• pairing: kim seokjin x reader, warlock! seokjin
• genre/warnings: supernatural, smut, some type of fluff, angst
• words: 22,361
→ summary: Who’s the mysterious guy that’s just appeared in your life and plagued your dreams? He’s been showing up ever since your “friends” convinced you to do a ouija board in the old, creepy house that looks over your town. Your brain tells you to be afraid of him, but your heart tells you something different… Why aren’t you scared of him? You’re intrigued by the handsome stranger, and you want to get to know him better…even if it proves fatal…or eternal

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“Don’t Objectify Me” (Dean x Reader)

The first of two for tonight and then I’ve got to study for my finals tomorrow. 

Happy Reading!

Words: 1971

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Excessive cuteness

Excerpt:  He huffed again but stayed silent.  The three of you, with the help of Cas back at the bunker, were investigating a string of homicides in Oklahoma.  Three people had been killed inside of a week, but that hadn’t even been the strangest part.  The bodies hadn’t just been mutilated, they’d been practically decimated.  Their chests had been ripped open and their lungs had been removed.  It was positively gruesome.

Forever Tags: @fairchild21

Tagging: @beccaanne814-blog

Originally posted by petuniakestrel

You paced back and forth waiting for Dean to come out of the house of one of the victims.  Of course, you couldn’t go in with him—you were the watchdog. You were always the watchdog.  Dean was always the one putting himself in the line of fire, and you were always just…watching.

“Easy kid,” Dean said, coming up behind you.  “You’re gonna wear a hole in the concrete.”

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Go Home, Stiles.

This was meant to be the second half of something bigger, but I’m struggling with writer’s block and wanted to feel like I’d finished something, however small, and this is the result.

Canon divergent somewhere in season 1.



“Hey,” Stiles says and Derek pauses with one hand on the car door handle, turning back to look at him with impatient eyebrows. Stiles has never really been one for mincing words, and he doesn’t start now. “Am I your mate?”

Derek stares at him, a brief parting of his lips the only sign he was caught off-guard, and when he finally speaks it’s accompanied by a low warning growl. “Go home, Stiles.”

The door slams shut and Derek disappears into the darkness using that werewolf-y trick of his, the one he still hasn’t taught to Scott.

Stiles sits back in his seat, realising he’s breathing hard, heart hammering in his chest.

But Derek didn’t answer and he can’t let it go.

He stumbles out of the car and up to the dilapidated Hale house, ignoring Derek’s bellow of “I SAID GO HOME!” echoing from somewhere inside - or outside, depending on the state of the roof wherever it is he’s standing.

He opens the front door to find Derek in the entryway, feet planted and arms crossed, glare verging on murderous - though it’s hardly the first time Stiles has been on the receiving end of the expression.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he accuses, planting his own feet despite knowing it will do nothing to anchor him if Derek decides to physically remove him.

Derek snarls, eyes flashing blue and fangs coming out to play, but he’s trembling, like he’s barely in control of it.

Stiles may be stubborn, but he doesn’t want to die, so he tries to back away, but Derek jerks in what he’s sure is an aborted pounce. He stills, realising, somehow, that it’s not an attack coiling Derek’s muscles.

“Get out,” he grits through his fangs. “Get out before I-”

“What? Rip my throat out?” Stiles challenges. Slowly, hesitantly, not sure what’s even driving him to do it, he tilts his head back and bares his throat.

Derek’s eyes flare even brighter as they widen and there’s a high-pitched whine before he seems to go slack, sagging forward until his face collides with the side of Stiles’ neck. He sways under the weight, shivering at the flutter of Derek’s eyelashes against his skin.

“Come on, big guy,” he grunts. “Let’s get you sat down.”

He manages to shuffle Derek back a few steps to what used to be the lounge doorway, but halts when he catches sight of what’s left of the sofa, covered in ash and- well, Stiles doesn’t even want to know. “On second thought, back to the Jeep. You can’t stay here.”

Derek’s grip tightens and Stiles soothes a hand over his back.

“You can’t stay here, Derek,” he repeats, gently, speaking into his hair. “Not anymore. I won’t let you.”

The tension that had returned to Derek’s shoulders loosens once more and Stiles coaxes him outside into the fresh air with no more fuss. It’s only when he’s gotten him in the car - finally seeing his wide, innocent eyes when they’re forced to part, the ghost of the boy who lost so much - that he realises his plan has more than a few holes. But he knows his dad has the same drive to do what’s right as he does and it will take just one look at Derek’s vulnerable shell to crumble and agree to offer up their spare room.

And if Derek is too skittish to part from him and Stiles allows him to spend the night in his room - as the hand he curls around Stiles’ wrist as soon as he climbs in the driver’s seat tells him - well, that’s something his dad never needs to find out.

Mafia!Jungkook Imagine Pt.3

 

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3


The brown haired guy stood up and slowly walked to the door. You shuddered,  finally noticing how cold it actually was. You tried not to think of anything. You tried not to think about how your life as a sniper would be. Suddenly, you saw that the Mafia guy had turned around and was looking at you with a strange expression. Now you where the one raising one eyebrow.

“Ah, and (Y/N)… I’m not supposed to tell you, but… As soon as I leave this room and tell my boss about your decision, the bomb in your parents house will be activated.”

You felt your heart drop as your eyes grew wide in shock. He walked on, grabbed the doorknob and opened the door…

NO.

“Wait. WAIT!!!”, you screamed in panic.

The guy turned around, smiling in triumph.

“Welcome to the Mafia, (Y/N). I’m Jungkook and I’ll be your teacher for the next months.”

       ~~~    

The next thing you knew, you woke up in a quite normal, clean room. No weapons, no dangerous looking people, and- at least seemingly- no cameras. Not that you expected all those things, but you had to make sure. You didn’t remember how you got here, maybe they used drugs… In the end you probably didn’t even wanna know. There was nothing you could do- Besides then waiting for someone to get you out. And it wasn’t going to be the police, even if you hoped so. You stood up and walked up and down in the small room. Maybe it was like a hostel room or something, they wouldn’t bring you to an actual Mafia building, would  they? In the end you still were an police officer! You searched the room for anything suspicious, or at least a hint, but you couldn’t find anything. Just an average hostel room. Without a phone, of course. That would’ve been way to easy. 

You thought about Jungkook and his words. Teaching you? What the hell was he going to teach you? You already knew how to handle a pistol and you weren't going to let him teach you how to kill people. Definietly not. You sighed. It’s not like you were actually going to be a part of the mafia… Right? Hopefully you would know soon. Right now there were way to much questions flying around in your head. But even more importantly, you had to find a way to escape.

Suddenly, without any warning, the door swung open with a loud bang. You jumped. What the hell!? Didn’t that person know how to knock? Did they come to hurt you?  You turned around,a little bit scared but also curious about the person. You somehow expected Jungkook to be standing there, but that wasn’t the case. In fact, a blonde, young girl was standing in the doorframe. She seemed way to young for the mafia, not even the tons of dark make up would hide that. But there was something about her that seemed strange-  like, really out of place. She was smiling widely. She didn’t seem dangerous at all, not like someone who’d kill people. More like… a bunny? Before you could say anything, she spoke up.

“Hey there, I’m Lisa. So your the newbie? I’m kinda new too!”, she said, still grinning. You didn’t know why, but she seemed quite nice. You couldn’t help it, you instantly liked her. You stared at her until you realized she was probably expecting an answer. 

“Yeah, I guess? I don’t really know…”, you answered, shrugging your shoulders.

Lisa just kept on smiling. She probably knew everything about you anyways. At least she seemed to know why you were here.

“So, (Y/N)! Jungkook told me to get you. Your lesson is going to start soon. But, If I’m honest…”, she said while eyeing you up and down,  “You can’t go like this. I’ll give you better clothes.”

With that, she simply walked to the closet, leaving you perplexed. You hadn't even checked the closet yet, thinking about it. She took out a black, tight jeans and a black tank top. Without saying anything she gave you the clothes. Then, she motioned you to change. However, Lisa didn’t turn around. She was just standing there, looking at you with a more and more confused expression. Would she be, like… watching you? That was quite strange. You didn’t even know her.

“What are you waiting for? Jungkook’s waiting. Can’t say he likes to wait.”, Lisa said with furrowed eyebrows.

“Can you just turn around?”, you asked awkwardly.

Lisa laughed quietly, making her nose crincle a little bit. She was getting kind of strange. But what did you expect? This wasn’t just some random hotel and she wasn’t just some random girl.

“I mean, sure, I can! But the two of us will be getting pretty close. There’s simply no other way. So why don’t why start right now?”.

Luckily, she turned around anyways and you  quickly changed your clothes, checking them for anything strange before wiggling into them. You were happy to finally have fresh clothes, you definietly didn’t expect to get some. They were quite tight, but that was probably normal, looking at Lisas outfit.

“I’m ready, Lisa… So, what now?”.

Lisa just nodded and took your hand, pulling you out of the room. You didn’t make the effort to close it, there wasn’t anything in there anyways.

She leaded you trough a row of lonely corridors. You were actually in a small hotel, but it appeared to be abandoned. The wallpaper was already removed from some parts of the wall and the carpets were stiff from dirt. Great. That wasn’t helping you at all. You couldn’t remember any abandoned building in your city. At least you knew it was evening, since the sun was just going down and the last golden sunbeams were drawing flickering patterns on the floor. If your heart wouldn’t pound like crazy, maybe it would’ve been pretty. But in the end you were being kidnapped and some strange mafia guy was probably trying to make you kill people. You weren’t looking forward to meeting him at all. Yes, maybe you should just try and run from Lisa. But she really seemed to know this building, there was no way you could escape right now. Maybe you should try and get her to trust you. Maybe she could help you out.

After what felt like an eternity, Lisa and you entered a big hallway. At least it was big compared to your room. The dark red carpet here looked way cleaner than in the rest of the hotel and warm, yellow light from some plastic candlesticks made the room appear somewhere near cozy. You heart was still pounding. It was so loud, there was no way Lisa wouldn’t here it. She turned around to you and pointed at a big wooden door.

“This way. This room once was the dining hall, now rookies get trained there. Jungkooks waiting. I think he’s alone, the others are already outside or in their rooms. Just in case you need me, my room is number 233. You’ll… find that somehow I guess. Bye, (Y/N). Good luck.”

You quickly nodded, and before you could ask anything or say thank you, she ran off. Amazing. Now you truly were alone. But you were quite sure running away made no sense. Especially since they didn’t make a big deal out of the black cameras that were installed everywhere.You would’ve no chance. And with that, there was only one option left.

Go trough that door. Face your kidnapper. And let him teach you god knows what.

     ~~~

The door was quite heavy, but you were able to open it. You closed it behind you, trying to be as quite as possible. You didn’t want to to get more attention than necessary. You looked around the big room. It was painted white and the floor was made out of dark wood, but the walls seemed to be isolated with a soundproofing material. God, you never knew the mafia was that advanced. The police didn’t even know half of the truth. They actually thought, the mafia was only hanging around in dilapidated, old houses near the city. That’s what you used to believe. But in fact, they were training rookies in proffessional soundproof rooms. Nobody would believe you, even if you told them!

Besides a few chairs at the side of the room, it was completely empty. No tables, no sofas, nothing. It didn’t seem like a place to learn shooting. And you couldn’t spot any blood on the walls. You had to check, just in case. Maybe you were a little scared too. Who wouldn’t be? The scariest thing was, that the room was completely lonely. No people. Especially no Jungkook, even though he was supposed to be here. You stepped further into the hall. Where would he be? He couldn’t hide in here. Should you go and search for Lisa? Or try to run away?

“GOT you. Watch out, cop girl. Your potentially dead now.”

You couldn’t restrain a high pitched scream as a cold hand landed on your shoulder. You spun around and jumped away, just out of reflex. Now your heart was truly going wild. Where the hell had he come from?

“Jungkook. Damn, can’t you announce yourself like a normal human being?”, you asked, still a little bit out of breath from the shock. He just watched you with an amused expression. His hair was messy, and instead of the suit he was wearing at the bar, he was know wearing black sweatpants and a white shirt. You had to admit he wasn’t even that intimidating, and he was actually really handsome. He looked like a normal young adult. You just wished you could punch that evil smile out of his face.

“Where did you even come from? Did you stick on the ceiling?”, you asked, trying to hide the fear that was still lingering in your bones.

The smile on his face grew even wider.

“Maybe. So, (Y/N). I see you already grew some confidence. But for the next few hours, you better just forget about your funny little attitude. Your head needs to be free from thoughts, you need to concentrate.”

You silently scoffed.  Was he actually telling you to not be confident?  Not like you were in the beginning. You just acted like it.

“What if I don’t?”. You didn’t even know  where those sassy words came from. They just came to your head. Considering the situation you were in you should’ve probably stayed silent. Maybe it was because you hated to be bossed around. Maybe because you were scared for what was to come.

But Jungkook wasn’t really angry, he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Not my choice. May hurt a little bit though, sweetie.”

Oh god. What in the world was he planning to do? You didn’t want to concentrate, right now you just wanted to get out. And get away from him. You took a step back. Jungkook just came even closer and started talking.

“As you already know, your training as a part of the mafia starts now. And since I’m not dumb enough to give you a weapon, we’ll start with physical training. You need to be prepared for everything, even as a sniper. Well, I just don’t know how advanced you are. So shall we just start and test that? It’s easy. Just try not to get hit.”

You gulped. Was he joking? Physical Training? Like, punching and kicking and stuff? You eyed his arm muscles. Jesus. There was no way  you would even last 5 seconds fighting against him. Your eyes grew wide as he slowly came closer. He wasn’t joking at all. You didn’t need to think about your next step. There was only one way for you. Ignoring the fact that you were really making a fool out of yourself, you just tried to run away to the other side of the room. He may be strong, but was he faster than you?

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. Don’t act like a scared bunny.”

The next thing you knew, he had thrown you over his shoulder. Damn. He WAS faster than you.

“What the hell are you two doing? Play tagging? Can I play along?”.

The sudden deep voice startled you and you wiggled yourself out of Jungkooks sharp grip. A young man was standing about 5 metres from you, holding a file. Big glasses were laying on his nose. He looked like a scientist. A big, boxy smile made him look really cute.

“No, Taehyung… I told you I have to train her. What are you even doing here, aren’t you supposed to mix drugs or stuff?”

Originally posted by nnochu


Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin


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Reverse burglary (a Christmas miracle)

(Based on this post. Sterek prompt, with a poor, grieving Derek who gets the safety and rescue he so desperately hopes for)

Derek sighs. The way to home from campus looks as unappealing as the stack of work that weighs down his bag. Snow and slush has filled the streets while he had been confined to the monotonic walls of the lecture room, coloring the ground with whites and grays and browns. 

Things have been tough for a long time now. Ever since Laura was killed, her body buried underneath the old and dilapidated Hale house, Derek’s been all alone. Grieving, anchorless mess. The fact that his own uncle had taken his alpha’s life, someone that was supposed to be family, was such a big blow that Derek hadn’t even known what to do with Peter afterwards.

Not that he had to do anything. His uncle had been killed by a hunter, Chris Argent, after Peter had gone rampant and apparently turned a couple teenagers in his fury. At first, a glimmer of hope had burst in Derek’s chest. Other wolves, just as lost and clueless as he was. It could mean a new start of a pack, a new family. Someone to get to be in contact with, to rely on without having to give anything but love in return.

It… Did not happen. 

The first boy that had been turned, the one with the slightly magical smelling friend, had rebuffed Derek so hard he was still blinking back tears whenever he thought of it. The second one he had approached from afar, but after getting the gist that the kid, Jackson whats-his-face was a self-entitled, rich and spoiled jock, Derek had turned on his heels and never looked back.

But even if he didn’t get to have a pack, his chest burning with longing and sadness so deep it ached whenever he saw the other wolves (The other kid, Scott, had turned into a true alpha, and had turned three other kids as well to join their pack. They looked happy.), at least he was safe in Beacon Hills from other hunters. Peter had killed Kate, Derek shuddering at the thought of her still roaming these streets, and Chris had taken the position of the local hunter, and had mostly only threatened Derek.

Apart from that one time that Chris and his goons had destroyed Laura’s Camaro, the only thing he had left of her. He had sobbed for the whole night, ready to curl into a ball and disappear, crawl into the grave with Laura’s body and hope Mother Nature would caress him into sleep so deep he’d get to see the rest of his family.

He stayed.

But one problem (among many others) that he had, was that Derek had no money. With Laura’s death, the human society unaware of her passing, since ‘werewolf territory death match’ wasn’t a viable explanation to the police, all of the money that their inheritance held was in Laura’s name. In Laura’s bank accounts. Derek had no access to those.

The only thing he had was the apartment Laura had rented, with a automatic payment contract to the monthly rent. Without an anchor, or at least a stable one, Derek was unable to get a job because he was so afraid he would fuck it up. He’d enrolled into Beacon Hills community college, because that too had been pre-paid, but other than the three pairs of henleys, two t-shirts, four pairs of boxers and one pair of jeans with his Converse shoes and Kånken bag, he virtually had nothing for himself.

He was piss poor, unemployed full-time student with no friends, no family and hunters that were ready to put him down with only a wrong twitch of the eye.

His life was a disaster.

Trudging through the melting snow, Derek listened to his stomach mourn for food. In three days time there would be a full moon, and in that time, the woods would be dangerous to hunt in. If he wanted food, he’d have to go either tonight, or tomorrow. He tskd, thinking of the pile of essays waiting for him.

Thank God he was allowed to hand write them. If he wasn’t, he’d practically have to live in the library or at the school campus, because he didn’t own a computer. Even his apartment held only one working lamp with a light bulb, an empty fridge and two towels. He did have a plate and a fork, as well as a meat knife he’d snatched from the outdoor diner that didn’t look close enough for their customer’s empty dishes. 

When he nears his apartment, Derek stiffens. Someone is inside his apartment. Wary, he carefully steps the three sets of stairs up to his door, and listens. The burglar doesn’t seem to be doing anything though. Which makes sense. Derek doesn’t even own a bed, for Christ’s sake. He usually sleeps as a wolf on the floor.

He rattles the lock loudly, hoping for whomever it is that’s on the other side would take the hint and bolt. But the person doesn’t. Derek opens the lock slowly, letting the door creak from its hinges, and steps inside. He drops his bag near the entrance as he closes the door behind him and stares.

The stranger is standing in a what should be a living room, his back faced against the front door. And it is a he, Derek realizes. It’s the kid, the friend of that true alpha. He’d never gotten his name, though, but he could smell the sheriff and the kid shared a scent, so he knows he’s a Stilinski at least.

The kid turns slowly, his eyes wide as he locks them with Derek.

‘’Dude,’’ the teen says with a feeling. Derek can sympathize.  

‘’This is where you live? There’s - There’s nothing here! I don’t even see a bed. Your fridge is so empty it doesn’t even have a light. Does any of your lights in this apartment work?’’

Confused, Derek quietly points to the one in the bathroom. ‘’That one works,’’ he says blankly.

‘’… Only that one?’’

‘’Uh,’’ Derek says, ‘’Yes?’’

‘’Dude,’’ the kid says with horror. ‘’What do you eat? You look like you have bones and skin, and… Stubble. Very manly and uh, wolfy, but not very nutritious.’’

Getting the wits of him, Derek scowls, growling a little. He crosses his arms. ‘’What are you even doing here?’’ he snarls. ‘’How did you even get in?’’

The kid looks unimpressed. ‘’I’m a cop’s kid. I know how to pick locks. Which, by the way, my dad’s the sheriff. He’s uh, in the know now. So.’’

‘’So what?’’

‘’So,’’ the kid says, ‘’You don’t need to hide in a place like this anymore. We know you’re a werewolf, and the Argent douche is a hunter, but dad will keep you safe. He’s not letting Argent mess with any of us, so I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out too. So, you know, move to a better apartment, get some food and clothes and stuff.’’

Derek blinks. ‘’I live here,’’ he says, uncomprehending. He doesn’t have any money to get a better apartment. He doesn’t live this way because he wants to.

‘’Well, yeah, but can’t you like, move somewhere else? You have money, I know, because I, um, might have seen the police file and the um, amount of money you got from the uh …’’ Death of you family, the kid doesn’t finish, but Derek hears it loud and clear. He looks away, the loss of it all hitting him renew.

‘’I don’t have any money,’’ he grits out. ‘’My sister… She’s got it all.’’

‘’Oh, uh, cool,’’ the kid says, swaying on his heels. ‘’So where is she? Do you want me to help you find her?’’

Derek snorts humorlessly. ‘’I know where she is,’’ he murmurs, hugging himself. ‘’And that’s where I hope I would be too.’’

The kid blinks. ‘’…And where is that?’’

‘’In a grave,’’ he answers roughly, ‘’and all the better for it.’’

The kid takes a few fumbled steps backwards. ‘’She’s dead? She uh, who - ‘’

‘’My uncle,’’ Derek sighs, and suddenly he’s weary, defeated. He comes to the living room, charting away from the kid and slumping against one of the walls, sliding it down so that he’s sitting on the floor.

‘’Everyone is dead. There’s noone left but me.’’

The kid frowns, whispering, ‘’That’s rough.’’ He comes to sit next to Derek, mimicking his position. They’re both quiet for a while, the moon filtering through the curtainless window, revealing the dust speckles swarming the floor. 

Abruptly, the kid stands up. ‘’I know what to do,’’ he says to nobody in particular, and then looks down at Derek and winks. ‘’Just wait here. I’ll be back.’’

The kid dashes to the door, only stopping to excitedly tell Derek, ‘’My name’s Stiles by the way. And I’ll be back so just sit tight, mister. I’m gonna - Yeah, this is going to be good, just wait - ‘’ And then he’s gone.

All that’s left of the guy is mixed smells that permeate Derek’s den. He waits a couple hours, but the kid doesn’t come back. So he goes to sleep, already regretting not getting any essays done. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.

When Derek gets home late the next day, there are strangers again in his apartment. This time it’s multiple someones. He doesn’t bother going quietly like last time, because he can smell the pack of wolves and they probably already know he’s coming.

Stiles is the one who opens the door before he has time to fish out his keys, and he’s beaming, ushering Derek inside.

Derek stops just shy of Stiles getting the door closed. He blinks dumbly at the sight that greets him. There are lights on everywhere at the apartment. There’s a fucking rug on his hallway, and he can see furniture in the living room, peeking from the corners. Stiles comes from behind him, pushing him more inside. At first he’s greeted by Sheriff Stilinski. The man is in his uniform, his face apologetic and reassuring.

‘’Mr. Hale,’’ he says, extending his hand. ‘’I have heard from my son that you are someone I can come to if I have any questions about the supernatural. I’ve been educated within the past four months, but information from a person who’s clearly more knowledgeable than my son’s friends or our town’s cryptic vet would be appreciated. And,’’ he says, bringing Derek into a comfortable hug, ‘’I’m very sorry for your loss son. I knew your family. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always available.’’

Then the man extracts himself and offers a smile. ‘’And call me John, son. I’l be sure to have my number in your cellphone after tonight.’’

‘’Derek,’’ Derek says in response. ‘’And uh, I don’t have a phone.’’

‘’You do now!’’ Stiles pipes up. Derek looks over, and then he sees the herd of teenagers that are the wolves he’s been seeing around town.

‘’I’m Isaac Lahey,’’ the first kid, Isaac, says. ‘’Nice to meet you.’’ He doesn’t offer his hand, but nods shyly. Derek knows him. He’d listened to the kid get beaten up more often than not, and even went to threaten the kid’ father a couple times. It’s nice to see Isaac to not be in pain or scared.

‘’Derek,’’ he offers in response. 

‘’I’m Erica, and this is my best friend Boyd,’’ the blond, white teen says, and points to the guy behind her. Derek nods at them.

‘’And I’m uh, Scott McCall. And I um, wanted to …’’ the kid whines in protest when Stiles jabs him in the side, but lowers his head. ‘’I’m sorry I was rude to you when we met. You tried to help me and I was being an idiot. I would like to start from a clean slate, and um, offer you a place in my pack. That is, if you want it.’’

Derek looks around. There are two sofas and a coffee table, a couple rugs and a bed. Even red curtains have made an appearance, and he can smell food in his kitchen that he knows wasn’t there before.

‘’Why all this? You don’t even know me. I don’t know you,’’ Derek says, baffled.

Stiles shrugs. ‘’It’s Christmas time and that is a time of giving? Because dude, I’ve seen you brooding away, thinking we don’t see when you look at us. I kind of know now what wolves need, and wolves need a pack. And you don’t have one. And we rejected you when you tried to form one with us, but we regret that. Because leaving someone alone after so much tragedy is, well, pretty much a punishable crime to me. So.’’ The kid spreads his hand. ‘’Here we are, if you want us. And you don’t even have to decide now. Just, think about it. Get to know us, let us get to know you. Let the odd ones gather into one big, smoochy family.’’

There are groans from the others, and the sheriff facepalms so hard, Derek hears the slap sound it makes, as the man’s palm hits against skin.

Derek hugs himself, already feeling a little bit better at having someone similar to him, someone with the same set of instincts than him be near him. Fill his den with their scents.

‘’I’ll think about it,’’ he promises, and Stiles fist pumps. Then the teens start carrying food from the kitchen, and Derek can’t help but think that, yeah. Maybe Laura will have to wait for awhile before Derek joins him.

Just for a little while.

Coach

You can find my Masterlist HERE!

Prompt: Heyy, if you’re up for it, can I request an imagine where Negan was coach before the apocalypse (your 18-19 now) and  he finds you by  the road, realising you were his student and he takes you back to the Sanctuary and is really protective of you?? Sorry if it’s too long, love your blog <3 – Via @maddiemoo16602

Ships: None
Words: 1,369
Warnings: Curses
Category: Angst with a dash of fluff

***

You were walking down a street of an abandoned town, dilapidated houses either side of you. You kept your eyes peeled for any sort of movement. You heard nothing except the winds rushing through broken windows and long absent streets.

Ivy crawled up the once neatly panelled houses like a parasite. The neatly trimmed lawns and flowers which may have once been well kept and colourful were now overgrown with weeds which had killed the beautiful roses and daisies that once bloomed there long ago.

Your stomach rumbled as it had been for the past week. You had eaten nothing but a dead rat and even then you only ate half of it, its milky eyes felt although it was staring at you from beyond the grave.

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We’ll Make It Happen

Just a little Malec/Madzie thing that ended up running away from me! I kinda wish this was a Malec/Lightwood Siblings + Clary plot later this season! Let me know if you want more! 

They found Iris Rouse a few days later, out in some dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere. It was a tall black shape, blocking out the already hidden winter sun against the colorless sky, the shadows cast by its hulking form looming over them as they stood and gazed up at it, a chilling air settling itself around them. The house was made of dark wood, rotted to holes in places from disuse, with its open windows creaking in the wind and what sounded like ravens cawing deep within. Alec shuddered as he remembered all the women Iris must have trapped here, the children…

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#Outlander Rewind: The Making of Outlander: Sassenach, part 1

The first episode, “Sassenach,” is primarily meant to establish Claire in 1945, a British post– World War II combat nurse reconnecting with her husband, Frank, in Inverness, Scotland.

The first scene shot for the series is the opening sequence, which introduces Claire in gory combat surgery just minutes before the war comes to an end. The scene, which is not in the novel, was added to help ground the audience’s sense of Claire’s character. Director John Dahl, a lifelong friend of Terry Dresbach and a collaborator with Moore on Battlestar Galactica, was brought on to establish the look and tone of the series, so much of which is introduced in that scene. 

“Ron said he didn’t want it to be a period piece,” Dahl remembers. “He wanted it to be handheld and gritty. We got David Higgs to be the cinematographer, who is fantastic. He really understood lighting and was very attuned to what the show could look like. We started looking at period films and references, and David said everything should be desaturated.”

Filming at a dilapidated, roofless manor house, production designer Jon Gary Steele turned it into a field hospital. “With the camera,” Dahl explains, “we used a ninety-degree shutter that helped convey that gritty, desaturated look. We had tungsten bulbs, and I think we even figured out a way to get some smoke in the scene. We cast an actor who was an amputee, and then we put this plastic leg on him that was incredibly realistic-looking. We’re pumping blood and squirting it into Caitriona’s face and then pooling blood on the floor. Then there was that great moment where she walks out and she realizes the war is over. I remember shooting that close-up of her with the sorrow that was on her face. We shot at maybe seventy-two frames a second, and it slowed that moment down. She just so beautifully captured that bittersweet moment.”

- The Making of Outlander: The Series


“There was an amazing booklet that was British World War II issue that showed all of the bandaging that [nurses] would have done. Those were Claire’s base skills. I do have a strong stomach. The worst thing is how sticky the fake blood is.” 

—Caitriona Balfe on researching Claire’s skills

Awake

Hi, here’s more of the Bloodborne AU nobody asked for! And here’s some tunes for the mood.


Jamison wakes to a pale sky and hard stone splayed beneath his back.

Sweet smelling flowers cluster by his head. The surrounding garden breathes with the passing winds, soft blades of grass whispering unintelligible secrets by his ears. The air is cool, gentle, the breeze a welcome touch, but no matter how many times he’s come back, everything has a sticky sort of dampness that clings to his clothes and burrows down through his marrow, the kind that hangs around the riverside or amongst weathered gravestones.

Death, he supposes. Not that it ever truly comes.

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To Build a Home

for @tyrannosaurusjess

When the dawn returned, everything changed. It was expected, of course, but it was the incremental changes that surprised Ignis the most. Lestallum surged with people once more, almost overnight. They hadn’t come to its safety in the days of endless night but when the sun returned they flooded the city. The sizzle of anak meat filled the air again. There was laughter. From what Prompto told to him, they smiled easily, as well. It was as if they had forgotten the demons and the terrors, the horrors which wrenched them from their homes, and the suffering that had displaced loved ones. They had forgotten who had sacrificed and how great that sacrifice had been.

From a logical standpoint, Ignis understood it. The logical mind, to overcome trauma, would do almost anything to shield itself. It would push towards willful ignorance if it needed to. It would try to overcompensate. It would try to forget. In the end, mental walls of this ilk tended to tumble down over time. The mind protected itself but it was neither iron nor steel; it was not built for such compartmentalization. For many of them they would deal with what they had seen and experienced in the future. For now, they blithely filled the city to bursting. It became stifling. It was painful. He wanted out. He needed out.

“Gladio, this city…I can’t stay here any longer. “

The former shield soothed his ravaged soul with claimant touches. He felt selfish wanting to leave when there was still so much left to be done. But when he told Gladio that he needed to leave Lestallum; he hadn’t asked why. Ignis hadn’t needed to say that seeing others get on with their lives with such apparent ease awoke some primal anger in him, a rage that not even his blindness had evoked. He hadn’t tried to talk him out of going, or suggested that there was work to be done. He’d simply acquiesced.

“Okay, Iggy, okay.”

Gladio moved them into a dilapidated house west of Lestallum, a day’s ride from the city. There was little left of it, ravaged by the long darkness, but Gladio rebuilt it. He’d never known him to be good with construction or building things, but then Gladio always been good with his hands and the older man had an affinity for surprising Ignis, even after all these years, with alarming frequency.

It took ages to complete the house, between hunts that Gladio took to support the endeavor and his own inability to help. He did what he could, of course, learning by touch the difference between hex bolts, and machine screws, educating himself with their dimension and their depth. But in the end, it was mostly Gladio who had built their home, affixing shudders of cornflower blue, if Prompto were to be believed, around every window. It was Gladio who installed countertops of rough granite in the kitchen so Ignis could better feel his way about. It was Gladio who made something real, not Ignis.

The night it was finished, Ignis stood on the wrap around porch, slowly tracking his way across the length of it. Everything was smooth polished wood, heated from the noon of the day, warm under his touch. Deliberate and heavy footfalls followed behind, ready to aid if need called for it, but having learned that Ignis’ blindness didn’t hobble him as much as necessitate the need for time, to acclimatize to his surroundings.

He paused, thinking. The house was beautiful. Truly, from what he’d noticed every nook and every cranny had been lovingly designed. Everything was made for their comfort, consideration of things he might want or need, sweetly crafted. It made him feel profoundly humble and very much enamored of a man he was already very much in love with.

“You still love me,” Ignis stated, surprised and awed.

“With everything I’ve got,” he responded. “You just getting ‘round to understanding that now?”

Ignis shook his head. “You built me a house. But it missed my understanding that you’d built us a home, long before that. If not for you…”

“…it’s the same for me.”

Perhaps it was. Ignis would never know what squalls of emotions raged beneath the surface of Gladio’s skin. It was impossible to know the innerworkings of a person, no matter how much you loved them and how willing they were to share those feelings. No matter his intent or Gladio’s there would still be parts of him which were hidden and private. It was as it should be. Still, Ignis knew the inexhaustibility of Gladio’s devotion manifested in what he could do and what he could prove. It was what had made him a good shield. It was why he’d built the house.

“Then, come to me.”

That night they christened many of the rooms with slow passion. They took each other apart, piece by piece, only to rebuild the bond with whispered words and true devotion. They built a foundation upon which the rest of their lives would be built. They would love each other until one or both of their hearts stopped beating. They would annoy and cajole. They would tease and demand. Some days would be difficult because each of them were difficult men. But they would overcome it, for the groundwork of their lives were as strong and unyielding as the beech and ash of the eaves they made love beneath. They would continue, allowing a little of the light Noctis had so generously given them through the blue shutters Gladio chose because they’d reminded him of Noct’s eyes. They would survive. But better still, they would love.

Scared Silly

Originally posted by j-cypher

Having a night in with Hoseok is a rare treat. He would love to spend as much time with you as he could but with the growing success of the group and the near constant demand of his time, nights in are not something that he can oblige very often. But when he can, he makes sure to go all out.

The coffee table is nearly overflowing with treats (most of which are your favorites), there’s a list of movies you’ve both been dying to see already waiting in the Netflix queue, and you’ve both turned off and hidden your cellphones. The night holds nothing but promise and you’re certain that, even if something does go wrong, it’ll still be a nicer night than the ones you spend without Hoseok.

This certainty, however, goes down the drain the moment Hoseok starts flipping through the list of movies.

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A World in Which You Don’t Exist (Part 4)

New? Start HERE!

I’ve done it. I’ve finished this beast of a series. I hope it was good for all of you like it was good for me. Hats off to the anon who started this fiasco, I bow to you. 

I purposely wrote this last one, Prompto’s, as a conclusion of sorts. I still can’t decide on which one is my favorite. Argh. The sadness. ;_;

{1,872 words}

Prompto

“So I’ve been doing some thinking— I do that a lot now— think— and I… I understand now what you meant when you told me what you did.”

Prompto sat against the weathered stone, gazing across the plains of Cleigne and to the mountains of thickets in the distance. He twirled a small yellow feather in between his fingers rhythmically, around and around.

“Before, I don’t think that I— wanted to understand, you know? But now… now I do, and that’s why…” he let the words trail off his lips, evaporating with the breeze. A loud chirp echoed in the distance and Prompto’s mouth curved in a small smile.

“Chichiri is here to see you,” he said as a chocobo rounded the copse of trees. It ruffled its feathers at the sight of him, excited to see its rider and gave another chortle. Prompto reached out a gloved hand, running his fingers through the scruff of its neck as it leaned into his touch.

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Family/Favorite Relationship

For Jyn Erso Appreciation Week

read it on ao3

*Part of this ‘verse, read it first!

Pairing: Jyn Erso x Cassian Andor

Words: 634

Rated: G

She stood on the porch and watched as Cassian tried to corral the horses, stifling a laugh as he jumped away trying to avoid being trampled by an errant mare. He’d gotten much better at it, the shepherd dog they’d gotten the previous week certainly helped. He secured the gate and walked over to his wife, grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you see that?” he yelled, triumphant, “I did it on the first try!”

Jyn laughed now, a good hearty laugh that made her stomach clench.

“Don’t laugh,” he teased, peeling off his dusty gloves, “I worked hard at it!” The dog who had trotted to sit by his feet barked up at him. Cassian laughed. “You helped too, Kay. Thank you.”

“You did a wonderful job, much better than last week when we had to chase half the foals down the road.” she smiled fondly at her husband. He really was trying, for someone who had never been near horses before he was actually doing well.

“I’m just glad I can be useful now, I always felt bad you had to do that all the time.”

“It’s fine, Cassian, you’ve been really great at getting the house together.”

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Don’t Speak

Title: Don’t Speak

Word Count: 1140

Summary: An AU songfic wherein the reader is given the cold shoulder by Spencer because she allowed him to believe Emily was dead. Song: Don’t Speak by No Doubt.

Rating: T (Swearing and angst)

Requested by: @UnburnableTrash

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hold the door open for Emily as the two of you walk into the bullpen. You smile, loving that she’s finally back to the BAU. You (and Hotch) had known all along that she was alive, but you’d missed her while she was so far away. All is right in the world.

Well, almost everything, you think, watching Spencer stalk across the room, not even sparing you a glance. Since he’d found out about the way Emily’s case had been handled, he’d been giving you the cold shoulder. On cases, he’d speak to you as little as possible to get the main idea across. On the jet, he sat as far away from you as possible. Outside of work, he refused to see you. Even when you knocked on his apartment door. You’d spent the night out there once, knocking on his door every few minutes. No answer.

You sigh. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

“Don’t worry. He just needs time to cool off, that’s all.” Emily says, her dark eyes following the young genius’s progress.

“I don’t know, Emily… it’s been nearly two weeks.” You say, sighing again.

You and me
We used to be together
Everyday together always
I really feel
That I’m losing my best friend
I can’t believe
This could be the end
It looks as though you’re letting go
And if it’s real
Well I don’t want to know

    “Y/N and Reid, you go to the abduction site.” Hotch says on the jet later that day. You glance over at your best friend, offering a tentative smile. He looks away.

    As Hotch continues to pair the team up, you look out the window, tears forming in your eyes. You blink them away, hoping that no one sees. Nevertheless, Rossi spots it in your expression. He looks at you with concern, mouthing, “Are you okay?”

    You nod, then lower your eyes to your lap so that no one else can tell. It doesn’t work. As you get off the plane, you get multiple pats on the shoulder from your concerned friends. Hotch even gives you a sympathetic look.

Don’t speak
I know just what you’re saying
So please stop explaining
Don’t tell me cause it hurts
Don’t speak
I know what you’re thinking
I don’t need your reasons
Don’t tell me cause it hurts

    Spencer is waiting for you inside the black SUV. He looks away when you try to catch his eye. Sighing again, you turned the key and started the engine, pulling out onto the road. The drive is entirely silent, no matter how hard you try to engage him in conversation. He ignores you, looking out the window with a blank expression on his face.

    You park the car in a parking lot near the abduction site. You get out, not looking back for Spencer as you start walking. You know why he’s mad, but how are you supposed to fix it? What’s done is done. And for Emily’s sake, you couldn’t have told him. Yes, he had come to your apartment crying, but what were you supposed to say? ‘Oh, you can stop crying, Spence, because Emily’s actually alive! Surprise!’

    Too late, you realize that you’re muttering to yourself. Spencer is next to you, and from the expression on his face, he heard every word.

    “The fact that you hid it in the first place-” He begins heatedly.

    “I was under orders! What was I supposed to do?” You say, turning to face him on the sidewalk.

    “I came to your apartment crying for weeks, Y/N! You could have said something!” Spencer answers, his eyes blazing.

    “What? What could I have said?” You ask, near tears now.

    He sees your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment his face softens. Only for a moment, though. “How about, 'Hey, Spencer, Emily’s actually not dead?’”

    “And you think you’d have taken that well? I couldn’t tell you, Spencer. It was for Emily’s safety!” You say, your tears spilling over into your cheeks.

    He turns away from you, leaving you crying there on the sidewalk. Your back slides down the building behind you and you sit there, trying to slow your tears.

Our memories
Well, they can be inviting
But some are altogether
Mighty frightening
As we die, both you and I
With my head in my hands
I sit and cry

    When you’ve finally pulled it together, Spencer has finished checking out the site. You do a little looking around yourself, but not much. You’re too upset.

    Back at the station, the team begins to put together a working profile. You sit it out in a chair, your chin in your hands. No one bothers you.

    By the end of the day, you’re miserable. You head back to your hotel room quietly, wanting to sleep and never wake up.

Don’t speak
I know just what you’re saying
So please stop explaining
Don’t tell me cause it hurts (no, no, no)
Don’t speak
I know what you’re thinking
I don’t need your reasons
Don’t tell me cause it hurts

    The next morning, your mood hadn’t improved. Spencer’s has, but just slightly. He actually acknowledges your presence today. With slightly more to go on, the rest of the team is in a good mood, too.

    You can hear Pen’s cheery voice on the line. She gives a name: Howard Anderson, along with his address. The next thing you know, you’ve got a Kevlar vest on and are on your way with the rest of the team to arrest the guy.

    When you get out of the car, you notice a shape in the window of Anderson’s dilapidated old house. It doesn’t register until you see it raise an arm.

    And bullets begin to fly through the air.

    “Get down!” You scream, drawing your gun. You fire a few shots into the glass, but Howard continues to shoot. A sudden, searing pain in your chest makes you drop your gun. You clutch at your wound, then feel another bullet whiz by, so close to your head that you can feel it knock some of your hair back.

    “Y/N!” Spencer yells.

It’s all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are…
You and me I can see us dying…are we?

    Spencer jumps forward, shielding you from bullets as he pulls you back behind the car. Your head is spinning from the blood loss, but you can see him clearly enough to note the tears in his eyes.

    Just before you black out, you hear him say, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

Your Constellations

Dean x Reader
Warnings: none I think
Word Count: 1387

Originally posted by deangifsdaily

“Get back to the car,” Dean growled.

It was just you and Dean on the hunt. Sam was stuck back at the motel with a broken arm, courtesy of the previous hunt. Dean had deemed him unfit to fight, leaving it to you two to hunt down a ghost that had been terrorizing a small town in Wyoming.

Things weren’t going as you guys had planned. The ghost was a hell of a lot more aggressive than you had anticipated, knocking you aside with little effort. With the wave of its hand you crashed into the wall of the dilapidated house before scrambling to get back up.

“I said get back to the car dammit!” Dean yelled, cocking his gun. There was no way in hell you were going to leave without a fight, but Dean’s hard glare sent you running. The bones were supposed to be around the house somewhere, so you grabbed the shovel you had brought, along with the salt and kerosene and booked it.


In no time flames roared before you, the bones burning into nothing but ash. You gazed into the fire, the warmth radiating off of it almost making you forget why you were there in the first place.

“You alright?”

You turned to see Dean limping towards you, leaning on his shotgun for support. You rushed to him, holding his weight up as he shifted. “I think I should be asking you the same question.”

You helped him hobble closer to the fire. With a sigh of relief he ran a hand through his hair.

“One heck of a day huh?” Dean stared into the fire as you glanced up at him. You drew your lips into a thin line before nodding. Hell yeah it has been, you thought but if it weren’t for today you wouldn’t be standing there with Dean.

Looking back up at him you watched in admiration as his features softened under the light of the flames. The fire seemed to illuminate his eyes, making them almost glow, and the light freckles on his face reminded you of the stars that decorated the sky above. They seemed to create their own constellations, and it was only you who really noticed. And that small smile, the one he reserved for moments like this, curled his lips up just enough for you to get a glimpse of the Dean you always wished to see.

He constantly had his walls up, guarding what he could, but when he felt truly safe, those walls would come crumbling down. Right now for instance was one of those rare moments his walls were down, and you were grateful that he felt safe enough to lower them.

During your little reverie, Dean glanced down at you, catching the way your eyes lingered on him. “You okay?” Worry laced his voice, as he knew the faces you made when you were thinking. You gave him a small smile before nodding. “Yeah I’m okay,” you whispered.

Back at the motel, long gone was Dean’s warm embrace, replaced by the hard exterior he usually had up. The car ride had been uneventful, the impala breaking down about halfway through your drive back home. Dean had jumped out of the car almost as soon as it had stalled, yelling and cursing about how he just wanted to get back to the motel to sleep. You had watched from the car as Dean raised his good arm to shake his fist at the night sky before popping the hood open. He spent a good half hour trying to fix the car before you finally found your way back to the motel.

“You guys alright?” Sam sat up from his place on the bed, eyeing your sullen expression and Dean’s limp.

“Just peachy,” Dean fake smiled. “I think my arm’s popped out of its socket.” His low gravelly tone pierced through you, the exact opposite of what it had been when you stood together before the fire.

You pursed your lips while Sam tended to Dean, slipping away to the bathroom. You peeled your shirt off, grimacing at the way the sweat and dirt seemed to cling to you. Your body ached and the day seemed to finally take its toll on you. Oh what you’d give for a nice cup of coffee right now. Sadly, on your way back to the room, you found that the motel’s only coffeemaker was conveniently broken, and Dean was way too tired to drive a few miles down to the closest coffee shop. Settling for a soda from the sketchy vending machine, you hoped the little caffeine in it would help keep you from passing out in the shower.

Stripping off your clothes, you were almost excited to get into the shower. You never liked walking around all bloody and dirty, especially when you were tired because it just bothered you all the more. Pulling aside the shower curtain you went to step in, but a light knock at the door stopped you and you quickly pulled your shirt back on.

“Yeah?” You called out.

“Can I come in?” Dean’s muffled voice came. You quickly grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your waist.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

Dean peeked his head in before slipping in and shutting the door quietly. You stood by the sink, watching him. “You okay?” He asked, worry once again evident. You almost scoffed. Did you look okay?

“I’m fine. Why do you keep asking?” You snapped.

Dean’s face fell and he seemed to be at a loss for words. “I-I uh sorry. I just thought… you know what? Never mind,” he scratched at his neck before turning to leave.

“Wait…I’m sorry. Just tired is all,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Are you okay?” you prodded. “You’ve asked me twice today Dean.”

He scuffed his foot on the ground and laced his fingers behind him. He was the spitting image of a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

“Uh yeah, of course I’m okay.”

“You can’t fool me Dean. I know something’s up, spill it.”

Looking down at the ground, he only shook his head. “Come on. What’s wrong?”

Dean slowly approached you, not meeting your eyes as if he had done something wrong. It was your turn to be at a loss for words as he came in closer, pressing you against the small sink.

“Just worried is all. That ghost earlier threw you pretty hard.”

You smiled up at him. “You know I can handle it. I’m fine now anyways. Maybe a little bruised, but I’m fine,” you reassured.

He slowly pulled you into a hug, his hands finding your waist and your arms around his neck. You leaned into him, his scent enveloping you with the scent of well, Dean. It was a mixture of beer, sweat, and something unmistakably Dean. You weren’t quite sure how to describe it other than the fact that it was almost intoxicating. And for some reason, you just wanted more.

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck, he rested his head on yours. Aside from his killer glare and bad assery, Dean Winchester was like a teddy bear. The guy couldn’t get any softer than this.

“You’re really warm…” you thought aloud.

“What?” He chuckled.

“You heard me Winchester. You’re warm,” you reiterated, pulling away to look up at him.

Again his green eyes seemed to glow, the same way they had in front of the fire. Except this time you were the reason why they glowed. Dipping his head down his lips caught yours, throwing you into a hazy state of excitement and confusion. He tugged lightly at your bottom lip before pulling away to pepper kisses all over your face. You giggled as he placed one last swift kiss to your nose, before slowly pulling away to look at you.

You again admired the freckles that you had seen so many times before. The way they seemed to form their own little constellations made you wonder if Dean realized how much he meant to you. Your eyes widened when you realized you had thought aloud. His lips pulled into a small smile as he pulled you in again, “not as much as you mean to me.”


Tags!

@the-silver-iris