haunt couple

i remember once when i was 18 a super beautiful girl i worked with gave me her number and asked to go out sometime and she ended up picking me up one night to go stargazing. at the beach. on a blanket with a little picnic. and i did not know i was on a date until halfway through when she very blatantly told me she was attracted to me


Requested by @janaespecter14

The costumed man whipped around the corner on Dean’s side, causing him to jump and shove you behind him with rather unmanly ‘yelp’.  One hand balled itself into the fabric at the side of your shirt, keeping your body tucked behind his while his other hand balled into a fist and poised to punch.  Before he could swing the guy ducked back into his hiding spot, emitting a creepy laugh as he disappeared.

“God dammit.”  He grumbled, keeping his hand balled in your shirt before shuffling you both forward through the house.  “I hate this place.”

“I thought you said that it wouldn’t be scary.”  You countered, feeling your anxiety spike as you turned the corner into a new hallway.

“I can’t hit them when they jump out at me.  Where’s the fun in that!”

This is basically my declaration of love for Sterek, the best ever OTP, and for the amazingly talented Sterek fandom which has given me so much joy and happiness throughout the years. Here’s hoping the years post-canon will be even better and brighter. #eternalsterek

Big thanks to @halekingsourwolf for the beta! (Also on AO3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12178566 )

For Sterek

You meet for the first time on private property – 147 pounds of pale skin, fragile bones and sarcasm, and a majestic wolf with bunny teeth in a too big leather jacket.

Derek Hale: you’re the king on Stiles’ chessboard, his anchor, the prettiest alpha with the flower crown and Stiles your flower queen. You’re the alpha of Stiles’ heart.

Stiles Stilinski: you’re Derek’s anchor, his second in command, the emissary in training, the most loyal member of his pack. You’re Derek’s mate.

Mieczysław and cousin Miguel. You meet each other in a thousand different ways, in a thousand lifetimes. You impress each other with your Polish roots and fluent Spanish skills. Together you suffer through endless family dinners and visits to Grandma’s only to be interrogated about your intentions. You’ll have your informal occasions, too: relaxed get togethers and movie nights and bbqs in the backyard, letting the pack and your respective families mingle. You’re no strangers to loss but the tragedies of the past make you appreciate your self-made families all the more.

Perhaps you’re orphans and make your own families. Or you meet as kids and become instantly inseparable. Or you meet in school but have a hard time fighting through your different social cliques to reach out and make your special brand of jock and nerd work, connecting through mutual love for pop culture or music or literature. University fraternities may try but they can’t keep you apart forever.

Sometimes you meet later in life, when you already have kids, but all that friendly neighbourhood DILF will charm your pants off. Often enough you get to have your kids together, carry your own pups and join your beautiful everything (Herald being the infamous exception, of course).

You communicate via notebooks full of scribbles in sparkly pens, you text and sext and skype and type and call using few words or none. The anonymous postcards are instantly recognizable and always welcome. And when you’re not using words, you know to interpret each other’s eyebrows and the eyerolls. Your love translates without sound or sight, with a simple sign or touch.

You’re studying for your exams, learning anatomy bone by bone while lying in bed. You connect the multitude of moles, admire all those brilliant tattoos covering each other’s bodies, magical and ordinary alike. You make having gray hairs okay because getting them means growing old together.

But first you’re still young and you meet in the forest, lay on a rock and share a smoke. It’s a club –  it’s always a club – dark, loud and full of people invading your space. You leave the wolfsbane laced drink and craft beer behind and move to the dancefloor where your sweaty bodies gyrate together, following the beat of the music while you learn each others’ curves and angles by heart. Later you’re in no hurry, you’re vegging indoors, tangled on the sheets, kissing and watching the smoke twist and curl up, up, and up in lazy patterns. Taking turns shotgunning your spirits and dreams from lips to lips. You lose your virginities together… maybe you lose it to save your life, to avoid becoming the next sacrifice, but it always, always means something. Because you’re soulmates, your innermost thoughts and desires appearing on your skin, helping you to find your missing piece, connecting you two old souls time and again.

Keep reading


@harrypotternetwork creation event
harry ships

“Harry’s thoughts strayed to Ginny as they trudged up the road to Hogwarts through the frozen slush. They had not met up with her, undoubtedly, thought Harry, because she and Dean were cozily closeted in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, that haunt of happy couples. Scowling, he bowed his head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.”

anonymous asked:

what if after Sammy died, he followed Susie around as a ghost, but she couldn't see him. He kept on trying to talk to her, but she didn't hear. He wanted to tell he that he was sorry, that he missed her, that he loved her, but she couldn't hear. Eventually he is driven insane from the fact that Susie cant even see him. When Susie retires, Sammy stays at the studio. Eventually, due to some demonic summoning of some sort, Sammy becomes a corporeal ink demon. Due to this, he lost most of his memory

((“He wanted to tell he that he was sorry, that he missed her, that he loved her, but she couldn’t hear.” oH GOD

..semi-related, can you frickin’ imagine if ink-sammy is literally just sammy’s soul controlling a mass of ink? there’s no human under there. oh god that’s scary.))

Chills, Scares, and Cold Sweat

Originally posted by jjks

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. a pinch of platonic Yoonmin and implied Kryber

Themes: smut | angst | haunted house!au

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Ghosts and demons don’t exist, so how bad can it really get? In the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies. Taehyung’s words, not mine.

Warnings: late BTS Halloween special! Scary! (Not really) Backseat smut!


Okay, chill, you got this, I delivered myself a mental pep talk, as I stood in front of the house, my grip tightened around the suitcase handle, head high. The sun had already descended behind the horizon, grey skies casting a spine-chilling aura, the thick fog only intensifying the effect, putting everyone into long-awaited Halloween’s mood.

The last days of October are just like that; everyone is hyped about Halloween, preparing slutty costumes, throwing amazing, unforgettable parties, trick-or-treating, and, obviously, scaring the shit out of friends, sometimes even posting the horrendous pranks online.

This year, though, my Halloween was going to be different. Not necessarily better, but definitely not like all the previous ones. I mean… it’s not an everyday occurrence to participate in a paranormal experiment. Or in other words, being locked up in a supposedly haunted house for a couple of days. Thankfully, they pay quite handsomely, and I seriously need this money.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Keep reading