his left damn eyebrow

Locker Room

Pairing: Brett Talbot x Reader

Word Count: 1,574

Warnings: Oral (Fem Receiving), swearing, violence

Summary: While supporting your high school’s lacrosse team, you also support the idea of having the opposite team’s Brett Talbot drag you to the locker room and do bad things with you. Apparently, he was supporting the same thing.

(Song Suggestion; Fetish, Selena Gomez ON REPEAT)

(Credit to Gif Owners!)

  “You’re going to do great, Li.” You reassure your best friend, “Right Mason? Isn’t he going to do great?”

“Yeah.” He nods, not really paying attention to you. You roll your eyes when you see him staring at one of the players on the other team, slapping his hand to grab his attention.

“I don’t know… they’re gonna know something’s up. With everything else going on…”

  You reach your hand out and stroke his bicep gently. You walk closer, showing him your golden eyes, Mason totally oblivious to you, “You’ll do great. Liam? Look at me. You’re going to do fine. Scott trusts you.”

  “Okay.” He nods, sighing. You shake your head, grinning as your eyes return to their natural color. He looks back at the player he hates the most, Brett. You couldn’t help but join Mason’s side, getting a better view of his beautiful, toned body.

“I don’t care if he’s a foot taller than me. I think I could take him.” Liam says, as he watches Brett put on his shirt.

“Yeah…” Mason says, in a daze. Liam turns to look at him again, before staring at You and Mason.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What?” You and Mason ask in unison, looking at your friend who raises his eyebrows and bites his lip, “Me? Agreeing with you. I’m being agreeable.” Mason answers, nodding. You all turn to face Brett again, who is putting on his gear over the green shirt.

Angrily, he turns to look at you two again, “You think he’s hot don’t you?” He demands, his face contorting.

“No!” You both answer. “I mean…”

  “No. Not at all.” Mason glares at you, “No way!” He pauses, “Maybe. Yeah, maybe a little.” Brett looks at you, specifically you, and your cheeks tint in the slightest, thanking that it’s too dark to see, and Liam is too bad at Chemo-signals to feel the want radiating from you.

“He wants to destroy me.” You roll your eyes.

  “I think you could definitely take him… and then… give him, to me.” Liam grins, looking down and then back up at you two, who are starting to bicker about who gets who.

“Nah, just go out there and kick their smug, prep-school asses man.”

“Right.” They fist bump, before Liam pulls you into a hug. Liam pulls the mask over his head, and walks away, running onto the field.

“He’s mine.” You snarl.

  “Bet?” He asks, as you go to sit on the bleachers. Brett glances at you, and all you can think about is his strong, warm body leaning onto yours, while he kisses you feverishly. You could almost picture the smirk he was giving you now, on his face as he trails down your body. You glance over at Mason, a smirk of your own lacing your lips. He glares at you.

  “He’s dreamy, Mason, but I think he’s into girls.” He stomps on your foot, causing your body to flail down to the lower bleachers, lying on your back and groaning in pain.

 Halfway through the game you could feel the field getting more and more tense. Brett was targeting Liam, who was trying to stay away from Garrett, who was the supposed assassin trying to kill all the supernaturals in Beacon Hills. You kept looking at Scott for direction, but there was little you could do- you didn’t play lacrosse. Every chance you got, you went over and talked to Garrett, talking about Liam’s performance and whatnot. You had tried to be friends with him, since the whole thing about murders, it still could be someone else.

“He’s doing really good.” You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip.

“Yeah. That other one, Brett. Liam don’t like him.”

“I know.”

“Why’s he givin’ you googly eyes?”

“Dunno. Hey- I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay? I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

“Course.” He nods. You make your way to the locker room, completely side-stepping the bathroom. When you sigh, leaning against the lockers, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Jumping, you look at Violet, Garrett’s girlfriend a personal friend of yours.

“Hey.” You smile.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“I’m fine, just needed a breather. Kinda cold outside, and crowded. Loud.”

“Really shouldn’t effect you. I mean, not since you’re a werewolf and all.” Suddenly the atmosphere changed, and you were backing away from her. She was the assassin. It was her.

“Violet… look, we can talk, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re worth a lot of money, almost two million, (y/n).”

“Please, Violet.” She brings her fist up and connects it with your jaw, your eyes turning yellow, but you refrain from wolfing out, and mauling her to death. She unhooks her necklace from around her neck, and wraps it around yours, when you’re on the ground. She pulls it tight, and turns it on. You start choking, the heat burning through your skin. Suddenly, the necklace is ripped away, and so is her body. Across the room she goes, while you look at the attacker. You cough, managing to make out Brett’s tall figure, growling at her. His nails extend to claws as you try and stand up, making it to your feet in little time. She starts running, and when Brett takes after her, you grab his arm and pull him back.

“No.” You shake your head, “Not here.”

“You’re a wolf.” He says, holding your arms, “You can’t tell anyone that I am too. Please. Not even Scott, or Liam.”

“How do you know about Liam.”

“I can sense it.”

“Yeah so can I. How come I can’t sense you?”

“My pack and I like to be hidden. We don’t like being figured out.”

“Thank you.” You nod towards the door, where he had entered moments ago.

  “You’re welcome.” He smiles, looking your body up and down. The mark around your neck heals slowly, which he notices. “Are you hurt?” He asks, his arm reaching out to cup your neck, his thumb dragging across your jaw. You lick your lips, before pulling your bottom one between your teeth.

“No.” You whisper, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. He steps closer, his other hand landing on the other side of your neck. Your heartbeat quickens, as he moves closer, your feet backing up instinctively, until your back is pressed against the lockers. When his chest is leaning into yours, he takes a deep breath, trying to control himself.

  “Please.” You whimper, reaching your hands to grab his forearms. He grabs your neck harder, before pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter closed, before he steps closer, sliding up your body. He crouched slightly, due to the hight difference between you two.

  “Fuck, Brett.” You gasp, as he pulls your shirt above your head. You glance up at him with passion, before jumping up, your legs wrapping around him. His hands stay by his sides, not touching you in the slightest. He found it incredibly sexy, that you could just practically stick to him. You look down onto his pale, gorgeous face, biting your lip. You lean down, as his hands reach your ass, squeezing. He pushes you against the benches, leaning over. He stands and admires you. You unbutton your jeans, sliding the zipper down seductively, before one hand slips beneath the cloth of your underwear. You rub yourself carefully, sliding a hand up to cup your left breast.

  He raises his eyebrows, “Damn, (Y/n).” He moans, ripping your thighs apart, and pulling your jeans down. He moves your panties to the side, and licks your clit. You gasp, fingers threading through his blonde hair. He shoves two fingers into your opening, curling them instantly. You buck wildly, “Mmm, you like that?” The vibrations send you into overdrive as he mumbles the dirty words.

“Shit, Brett! Please!”

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head, before releasing your clit. He pulls away, wiping his hands on his shorts, “I’ve got a game to attend.” You bounce up, eyes glowing bright yellow in anger and disappointment.

“You did not.”

“Not what?” He smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Gives you a reason to come back, am I right?” He opens his arms to prove a point. You glare, pulling your pants and shirt back on. You fix your hair, as he watches you in amusement. You storm passed him, your shoulder bumping into his on ‘accident.’ He knocks backwards at your strength, before chuckling. He walks behind you until you reach the doors to the field, smacking your ass once, and walk away. You yelp, watching him wink back at you. He pulls his helmet back on, and runs to the coach, making some excuse about the bathroom and feeling lightheaded. You watch in amazement, before running to Mason, who raises his eyebrows at you.

“I’m telling Liam.” He gets up, about to run over to your best friend. You shove him down.

“Tell him what?”

“That you had sex with Brett!” He runs away, and you sigh.

“We didn’t have sex.” You bite your lip, looking at the man who left you breathless in the locker room, “Not yet.”

1: Coffee Shop

Simon had been working at Slats for a month now, and he was already bored out of his mind.

Don’t get him wrong, he thought the coffee shop itself was great—cozy and comfortable, yet not claustrophobic. The whole storefront was made of small panes of glass, some of them brightly colored. The ceiling was covered in a criss-crossed array of old wooden pallets (hence the name) and ivy looped across the walls with reckless abandon.

He enjoyed coming to work if only to see the different people that wandered in each day. There were a few regulars—the man with the bushy ginger beard who frequently dressed in a tweed suit (ordering a black coffee with one teaspoon of brown sugar), the woman with the red beret and irritable corgi that lurked under her table (she would order peach tea). Then there was the group of chavs that Simon became quite fascinated with (they would covertly order hibiscus lattes like it was somehow a threat to their masculinity, then punch each other enthusiastically as they left).

But despite this strange array of people that found their way into Slats, Simon was bored.

Simply put, it wasn’t very exciting making drinks all day. It was repetitive and dull and the coffee grinder gave him a headache. Occasionally someone would order something bizarre, and for a moment the boredom would cease ever so slightly, but then he would finish and the boredom would creep back like a persistent fungus.

He told himself he wasn’t going to work here forever, and to just suck it up and get on with the job. He was working here part time while he went to uni, to help pay for classes and rent.

But still…

Simon hated being bored.

It made him do things he would normally have enough sense to avoid.

Like talking to customers he had a feeling he should stay away from.


Two months passed, slowly and uneventfully.

Then, one day, everything changed.


It was a Tuesday. Simon had been working for about two hours and a dull headache had begun to bloom behind his left eyebrow (curse that damn coffee grinder). Outside, London had begun to grow dark, the sunlight being replaced by meandering fog and dusky twilight. He checked his watch.

7:46 pm.

A little over four more hours of his shift.

God, he wanted to kick something.

There weren’t many people in the shop. Only the woman with the corgi, sitting in a corner reading a newspaper.

Simon put his head between his hands, leaning over the counter.

The door chimed, signaling a newcomer.

At first, Simon didn’t bother to look up. He heard the click-clack of fancy shoes approaching slowly. A moment passed. Then, a gentle cough permeated the silence.

Simon raised his head.

“What do you want?” he said tiredly.

The man blinked, lifting a single dark eyebrow.

“Is that any way to talk to a customer?” he asked.

Simon stood, regarding the stranger. He looked like a fancy private-school student, wearing a perfectly-fitted overcoat and dress pants. His hair hung loose around his face, the color of freshly-spilled ink.

It was his eyes that gave him away. His eyes that told Simon that this wasn’t just any fancy private-school student.

He had eyes like storm clouds. And yes, Simon realized just after the thought crossed his mind that this was a fairly cliche thing to think, but it was true. They were a dark gray, threaded with lighter shades of silver.

They were mesmerizing.

…And currently filled with a look that Simon interpreted as cold amusement.

“Whatever,” said Simon, trying his hardest to sound unfazed. “What’ll it be?”

The man let his eyes drift across the menu lazily, running his fingers over the counter as he did. Simon noticed an ornate ring on his right hand—a bronze ring in the shape of a beetle.

“What would you recommend?” he asked, making eye contact with Simon.

Simon shivered involuntarily, hoping it wasn’t visible.

“To be honest, everything pretty much tastes the same,” said Simon, glancing back at the man’s fingers (they looked less threatening). “But the mint mocha’s are alright.”

“I’ve never heard an employee talk poorly of their own merchandise,” he said. Simon noted that his voice sounded like winter ice—cold, crisp and beautiful in a dangerous sort of way. The sort of voice perfect for lulling someone into a trap.

(Simon realized he didn’t much like this fellow).

“Yeah, well, I don’t much like the merchandise,” said Simon, chancing a look back into his face. There was a strange expression there.

“Hmpf,” he replied, reaching into his coat and fishing out a pristine leather wallet. “One mint mocha, then.”

Simon turned toward the preparation counter too quickly, knocking over a stack of paper cups. The fell to the ground in a cacophony of hollow sound. Simon felt his neck grow warm as he heard a slight chuckle from beyond the counter.

He threw together the drink haphazardly, just wanting to get it over with. He wanted this strange person to leave. He hated people like this—people that looked at him like he was worth less than they were.

“Here,” he said shortly, sliding the drink across the counter into the man’s waiting palm.

“Thank you…Simon,” he said leaning over slightly to look at the name tag pinned to Simon’s apron.

Simon turned away, pretending to busy himself with cleaning the coffee grinder.

The man sat down at a table close by. Out of the corner of his eye Simon watched as he gently pulled a glass box out of his backpack and set it down on the table.

Simon couldn’t help but stare full-on when he realized what it was. It was a beetle, large enough to fill someone’s hand.

“What, you’ve never seen a beetle before?” asked the man, addressing Simon without looking at him.

Simon swallowed hard and pushed a hand through his hair.

“Course I have. But not one like that.”

After a brief pause the other man said “Well, come have a look at it.”

Simon was tempted to refuse, but his curiosity got the better of him. He left the counter and sat in the chair opposite the stranger.

“I’m Baz, by the way,” he said, tucking a loose strand of glossy black hair behind his ear. “Figured you should know my name if you know mine.”

“I suppose,” said Simon, trying not to envy Baz’s politeness. It would be so much easier if he acted like a complete arse.

“This is Henry,” said Baz, leaning over the glass box. His gray eyes seemed to gleam in pride when he looked at the insect.“A specimen of mine. Rhinoceros beetle.”

“That explains the horns,” murmured Simon, leaning over as well to get a closer look. “Why do you have it?”

“I work for the Natural History Museum,” said Baz, his eyes still on the beetle. “I’m an entomologist—bug scientist,” he clarified, when guessing correctly that Simon had no idea what that was. “I’m in charge of taking care of insects, living and dead. This one’s moving to a new exhibit, so I need to take it back to my flat for a few days.”

“And you’re not…worried it’ll escape while you’re sleeping?” questioned Simon. While he couldn’t say that he was afraid of insects, he definitely wouldn’t feel at ease with a creature like that in his house.

“Of course not,” said Baz matter-of-factly. He sat back in his chair, his posture almost annoyingly perfect. “I’ve had plenty of insects stay over in my apartment. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Doesn’t it bother your…girlfriend?” asked Simon. The question hung in the air awkwardly.

Baz gave a low chuckle.

“Girlfriend? No, I don’t have one of those.”

Simon coughed in an attempt to break the heavy silence, but the attempt was futile.

“So…why entomology?” he asked instead.

Baz ran his tongue over his bottom lip quickly, almost too quickly for Simon to see it (he ignored the strange thoughts this stirred up).

“I’ve always been fascinated with them—how they’re so lovely, yet so generally feared and even despised,” he began. His eyes wandered somewhere over Simon’s shoulder, staring far away. “It saddens me that they’re disrespected the way they are.”

“Hm,” said Simon. He noted the tone of Baz’s voice, and guessed that entomology meant something far deeper to him, whether he knew it or not. “So you’re telling me, if you pulled back your shower curtain and saw a spider in there, you wouldn’t kill it?’

“Of course I’d kill it,” said Baz smoothly, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. “I don’t study arachnids.”

Simon laughed at the unexpectedness of this response, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle it. Baz cocked an eyebrow.

When the silence crept back in Baz took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly. “You’re right. This tastes like pond water.”

“I never said it tasted like pond water,” snapped Simon.

“It’s fine,” said Baz. He smiled this time, a real one. Simon liked the way it changed his face—turned him beautiful. “Now, I must be going. Got to get Henry home.”

Baz picked up the terrarium and tucked it beneath his arm. He held out his other hand to Simon to shake.

“Pleasure meeting you,” he said, back to business. “Stop by the museum sometime—I’ll show you something amazing.”

Simon took his hand and shook it, trying not to blush.

“I might just do that,” he said with a smile of his own.

Baz blinked and disappeared out into the London twilight.

As Simon turned back to the counter, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps this job wasn’t so boring after all.

This was what I came up with for the first day of the Carry On Countdown! I’m so excited to be one of the hosts for this event and can’t wait to see what everyone else comes up with. I hope you enjoyed it! I personally really liked the idea of Entomologist!Baz. Make sure to tag @carryon-countdown so we can see what you’ve made!

I never noticed

Summary : The reader is sick and decides to watch Doctor Who when she spots a familiar face .

Pairing : Crowley x Reader

Words : 1348

Warnings : nothing except the reader swearing .

English is not my first language and I apologize for any grammar errors or spelling mistakes 

I hope you enjoy reading this :) 

You felt horrible ! This has been going on for three days now and it just won’t go away. Yesterday it was fever today your throat was killing you ! And you couldn`t even ask Sam or Dean to get you something from the store

Damn vamps keeping your brothers busy !

Well it wasn’t that bad you were currently wearing your favourite sleeping shorts and one of Dean’s old AC/DC shirts plus you were also wrapped in the fluffiest blanked you could find . Since there was no one to tell you otherwise you decided that it was a great idea to watch some of your favourite TV shows.

Well actually you`ve been doing this since your brothers went away. At first you tried do do some research but you just couldn’t focus and after nearly two hours of trying to translate a spell you’ve been working on for two weeks you gave up deciding that whatever your brain was trying to tell you just didn’t make sense… So watching TV shows seemed like the next logical option and today you felt like Doctor Who.

You prepared everything you got some popcorn from the kitchen one of sam’s hoodies and a nice hot cup of tee .

Perfect !

So with what episode should I start ?

First which Doctor ?

I’m kinda in the mood to watch eleven

favourite episode ?

Well Vincent and the Doctor it is !

I’ll just continue from there .

You just finished season five when you decided to make a new cup of tee and get some pie from your secret hiding spot (one that Dean hasn`t discovered yet) . When you returned you made yourself comfortable on the couch and continued with season six.

The Impossible Astronaut I think I’ve only watched this episode once ..

You couldn’t remember this episode very well but you sorta remembered the plot .

You laid on the couch cuddled up in your blanket and roughly twenty minutes in the episode when it happened 

„NO WAY…“ you abruptly sat up nearly spilling your tea when Crowley suddenly appeared on screen . You sat on the couch your mouth slightly open and staring at the screen . There was just now way this could actually be Crowley .

What the hell is he doing in Doctor Who ?? And why is he talking with an american accent ?

At this point you didin’t even pay attention to what was actually going on but just stared at him whenever he appeared on screen .

You haven’t told anybody but you had a massive crush on the King of Hell and it appeared that the meat suit like he calls it he’s currently possessing was an actor before Crowley took over.

You started to google the actors name and the result was overwhelming .

He was on Firefly , Star Trek  AND Battlestar Galactica ?? How have I never noticed this ….? Oh my god he even played a demon on Charmed


These were some of your favourite shows and you never noticed him !

Charlie would be ashamed of you if she knew Y/N !

You continued to search for pictures after you read about all of his appearances on the page and were surpriesed how hansome he looked when he was younger

Not that he’s not handsome now but still …

You suddenly stoped and stared at your phone with wide eyes

He even has tattoos ??  

Okay by now you just couldn’t resist the urge to talk to him in person and decided to call him . When he picked up you had to keep yourself from bursting into laughter as you tried to keep your voice as normal as possible   

„What can I do for you , darling ?“ You had to admit even through his american accent was pretty authentic you just loved his british  accent and it made you melt whenever he called you by one of his pet names . „Hey would it be a problem for you to come over ? I …. just -“ you broke of when you couldn’t keep the laughter in but since your throat was still pretty sore it sounded more like coughing than laughing . Your laughter turned into actual coughing and got worse.

„Darling are you alright ?“ he asked you . You could’ve sworn he sounded concerned .. but you were probably just imagining things . Maybe the fever has returned and you were delusional or this was just all a dream and you were actually sleeping -You were brought out of your trance like state when he spoke up again

„Y/n ? Are you okay ?“  

After your coughing fit stopped and you took a deep breath to calm your breathing you were able to answer him without feeling your throat burn „I’ve been sick for a few days its nothing really …“ you managed to keep your laughter in not wanting to risk triggering another coughing fit …

„Well it’s not like Hell can’t wait a few more hours but why are you calling me aren’t Moose and Squirrel with you ?“ he asked.

He would actually leave hell for me- okay this is getting embarressing

„No actually . They left a few days ago to go on a hunt“ you told him he whispered something that you roughly understood to be morons.

„Okay kitten I’ll be right over . Can’t leave my favourite human alone when she’s sick now can I ?“ you could hear the smirk in his voice and you felt your cheeks getting warmer at him calling you his favourite human.

Before you even had time to hang up he already appeared in front of you with his back to the TV screen where it was paused on his meat suit. He was wearing his usual black coat and black suit. Over all he looked normal well except his tie . You’ve never seen him wear a maroon tie before but It looked really good on him.

He looked down at you still sitting on the couch wrapped up in your blanket .    „ So what are we doing love ?“ he asked you with his usual smirk

„Well I wanted to ask you something“ you had to keep in your laughter when you remembered why you actually called him .

Oh this is going to be interesting ! 

He locked at you with slightly knitted eyebrows before he slowly turned to the TV screen where his meat suit was still visible. „So is there something you want to tell me ?“ you  asked him in the most serious voice you managed but you immediately bursted out laughing when he turned around with a tiny frown on his face . 

„Okay you found it…I suspect you found the other ones too ?“

He sighed  as he flopped down on the couch next to you with a slightly annoyed look .You managed to stop giggling but you still smiled at him .

„It’s not really you though but I have to admit you made a pretty good choice“

He glared over at you and when he saw your smile he immediately stopped frowning and smiled back at you.

„What are you saying love ?“ He asked you in a dangerously low voice making his accent seem even more attractive . You could feel the blush creeping up your neck but tried to keep your voice as calm and collected as possible .         “ Nothing …well like you said I found the other ones too and your meat suit looked quiet good when he was younger-“He raised his left eyebrow .

Oh god that was embarrassing

“Not that you look bad now I just meant that he looked attractive too“


He looked at you with a blank expression his left eyebrow still raised

Damn it I fucked up ..

Then a smirk slowly spread across his face and you heard a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

„ So I guess you’ve seen the tattoos then ?“

By now you were blushing furiously  but before you could answer his question he slowly leaned towards you and whispered in your ear

„What a shame love . I was hoping you’d find out about them under different circumstances.“  

I'm Not One For Love - Austin Carlile

I don’t know if you’ll do this one but can you do one where you have a one night stand with Austin but you end up pregnant and you don’t know what to do. Then a year later you’re out shopping and she starts to get antsy and Aaron walks over asking if she needs help and the boys follow but Austin’s like wth and they all think she’s familiar and Alan goes back and talks him into coming with them and he realizes she’s his and like MAJOR FLUFF?!?!

Well I suck at these sort of things but I gave it a try anyway, you implied the baby was her daughter and you didn’t suggest a name so I kinda just called her whatever I could think of, hope you like it c: Smut Warning. Written by Emma.

I still remember that night. That night he saw me at a bar, alone, upset. He offered me a drink; one, two, three. We sat and we chatted, about things, about life, about love. All I knew was that I wanted to get lucky easily, I didn’t expect what would happen in the aftermath.

He took me home to his and it wasn’t long until we ended up in his bedroom. I was intoxicated but I remember ever second. The way he whispered in my ear as he undressed me carefully, the way he kissed along my neck and collar bone whilst caressing my body. Gently, he pulled me onto his bed. I sat facing him on his lap, our bare bodies pressed together. He told me how beautiful I was, and that he never wanted to let me go. He kissed my neck, he made me feel so alive, like I was loved. Then he said something, something that I still remember now. He said: “I’m not one for love, but this was love at first sight.” And those words exactly as he traced his fingers across my cheekbone. It left me speechless.

It wasn’t long before my back was on the bed and he was on top of me. The breathing was heavy and intense, sweat gathered on our skin. I couldn’t count the number of times I screamed his name.

He plunged himself into my body powerfully, successfully making me moan each time. He wasn’t rough, he didn’t hurt me, he knew exactly how to fuck a woman. His elbows was either side of my head, propping him up. Both of his hands was locked behind my head. My legs were wrapped securely around his waist as he tactically thrusted. The motion of his hips sent me to heaven, the way they dipped as he was inside of me then would grind upwards. It made me scream numerous times. He was so deep into me, yet always seemed to go that bit further. I cursed and dug my nails down his back, sometimes my hands twined with his hair.

I screamed, screamed and screamed. I couldn’t get enough, neither could he. He didn’t just fuck me, he made love to me.

We were breathless afterwards. He whispered sweet nothing’s in my ear as we lay together. For the first time ever, a man spoke to me about his future. He said he wanted us two to be together, me following his band on tour. He wanted me every step of the way with him. He said that he’s fell in love with me. I was surprised; we just met each other that evening. But he said that we had some sort of connection, and I believed him. I felt it too - this strange bond pulling us together. He told me that he wanted children in the future too, a girl. He would like to have a child fairly soon, so she could grow up with him. He had a disease, Marfan Syndrome, and it meant he couldn’t expect to live the full life of a man. But he wanted to make the most of his whilst he still had it. He wanted a family, a career. He wanted to make a difference to the world, to show people who have troubles or are like him that they aren’t alone. It was admirable.

We fell asleep that night in his bed, side by side. His arm was around me and I clutched to his chest. I felt like we were together, officially together.

The next morning was painful. I lay there, awake, in his arms. He snored lightly. I could picture it: waking up like this every morning. But something just snatched me out of the living dream I was in last night.

My thoughts dwelled. He wasn’t serious about you two having a future, he’s a rockstar, he wouldn’t want you and some kid toddling around after him everywhere. I overthought the whole situation, and I believed myself. He was a rockstar, he had a complicated life, going here, there and everywhere. He wouldn’t want me around him, or a child. He couldn’t of been serious. He was Austin Carlile, a hero already living the dream.

Loud, piercing cries snatched me out of the flashback. I look down into my pram to see my daughter, Sianna, crying. Immediately, I picked her up and held her in my arms. Rocking her side to side, I try to calm down. However, it didn’t affect the situation much.

It’s been over a year since that night with Austin. Shameless to say, the girl is his. I didn’t have the heart in me to have an abortion after I found out I was pregnant. I fell in love with her. The next morning after our incident, I followed my thoughts and left. I wrote a long note explaining why. Stupidly, I left the man that gave me the slightest possibility of a good future. I think about Austin everyday, I won’t lie. I look back to that morning with regret when I wake up every morning. Sianna has the same heart problem as Austin. As it’s a genetically disease, Austin must have passed it to her. Whenever I look at Sianna I remember him, it stung my heart. That hurt me the most.

Rolling down her face, Sianna’s tears felt never ending. Subtly, I sighed. I didn’t mind having a child, but it would help having somebody, at least one person, helping me with everything. I didn’t have a family, no brothers, no sisters. My mother died a few years ago and my dad left me when I was a little girl. I didn’t bother to find him, I never wanted to after he ditched me and my mother.

“Miss, are you okay?” A voice distracts me. Vaguely, it seems familiar. I turn around, fairly shocked by what I see. Aaron Pauley, the bassist/singer for Austin’s band, was approaching me. “Yes, she’s just a little unsettled, that’s all.” I try to smile and hide the stunned look on my face. Behind him walks two other members of the band: Tino Arteaga and Phil Manansala, the drummer and one of the guitarists of the band. “She’s adorable.” Phil says, bending down and looking at her. “What’s her name?” He looks up to me. “Sianna.” I barely whisper. “Who’s got cute little cheeks? You do.” Tino is lightly rubbing her cheeks, making me laugh softly.

Another member, the other guitarist, Alan Ashby wanders over to us. I try to seek behind him, to see if Austin’s anywhere. However, I can’t see over the small group of men. “Cute little girl,” He comments with a warm smile before turning to me. “I’m sorry if this sounds crazy, but you seem strangely familiar.” He remarks. “No idea why.” I say as I blush and tuck an ear back, I certainly do know why. “And so does she.” Alan crouches and leans over Sianna, talking in an automatic baby voice. “Again, no clue.” I shrug hopelessly. I try to remain calm, if they remember this isn’t going to be easy to explain.

“Where’s Austin?” Aaron asks as Alan stands up. “He’s just being a little weird for some reason.” He sucks on his cheek. A little weird, does he remember me and just doesn’t want anything to do with me? “Where is he?” Phil joins in with the questioning.

“I’m here.” I hear the husky voice behind me, and it startles me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Y/N.” He chuckles with that charming smile of him. I feel my face whiten, he remembers. “Y/N?” Alan repeats, eyes widening. “That’s why.” He mumbles, before stepping back slightly. Aaron understands what he’s trying to do. “Come on guys, let’s leave them to it.” He says, facing Phil and Tino. Kicking Tino’s back, Alan tries to draw him away from Sianna. “I’m sorry, she’s just adorable.” He chuckles before standing back and following Alan’s footsteps.

Soon enough, I’m left alone with Austin. Settling, an awkward silence appears amongst us. “I should go..” I whisper, turning the pram around. “Y/N.” Austin’s tone sounds like a parents. Unwillingly, I look up into his eyes. I never thought I’d see them again, at least, in person. Following those words, he makes my heart sting. “A note?” He mutters, folding his arms. “You left, a god damn note?” He raises his eyebrows. “I know, I have a lot of explaining to do.” I whimper, like a little girl getting told off. “Come on.” He says, his tone softening.

Leading me and Sianna to a small coffee shop, we sit opposite each other. He orders us two coffees, and we sit in silence. Guiltiness paints over my face.

“A note.” He repeats himself. He doesn’t sound angry, just disappointed. I know what he’s talking about, of course I do, that note I left him the morning I left. “Austin, I-” I murmur, but he interrupts. “Oh no, don’t try to ‘Austin’ me.” He mimics my voice. “You left me.” His tone sounds sour. “And all you left, was a flipping note?” His voice becomes irritated. “Writing all that crap about how we couldn’t be together. After a night where I opened up to you more than anyone else. You ditch me, you left me.” He mutters. “I thought you weren’t serious..” I whisper quietly. “It’s clear which one of us wasn’t serious, isn’t it?” He clenches his jaw. “I was, Austin, I was..” I say pathetically. “Yeah, obviously. No calls, no texts, no nothing. You’ve got a child.” His voice raises. “I didn’t have your number.” I use one of the excuses that has been building up in my mind for the last year. “Could’ve left yours. But, oh wait, you didn’t want jack all to do with me. You just used me for a night and left me and wrote some stupid, pathetic excuses down as to why. I run into you now and you have a flaming child.” He tries his best not to lose his temper. I don’t blame him for being angry at all. “I wanted to, Austin, really, I did.” I say, a pleading look in my eyes. Silencing for a moment, his eyes drift off into space and he looks around the room.

"Then why didn’t you?” He asks, his tone sounding upset. “I thought you were beautiful, amazing, perfect. I thought I was lucky that I was getting the chance go have you, I thought you’d be everything I ever needed, but you left.” He covers his mouth his his hand and looks away again. I search his eyes, his features. He looks like he’s in pain, that he really is upset. I can tell; I have to see that face in the mirror everyday.

“I honestly thought you didn’t mean what you said. I thought that you’d want to live your life, have your dream career. You wouldn’t want me, or a family, ruining that for you.” I murmur with regret. “I couldn’t live my life without you."He replies, taking my hands. My body warmths at his touch."Y/N, I looked for you. I looked everywhere. That place where we met, I went there a few times a week hoping to see you. I asked the bartenders, regulars there, if they saw you, and to give you me a call so I could come see you.” He says, a black expression covering his face. “I really didn’t think that, at all.” I say dumbly. How could I of been so blind before? “Of course I wanted you, and a family.” He says. “Honestly, I thought you didn’t. That’s why I left, and started a family of my own.” My eyes drift to Sianna, laying quietly in the pram.

“She’s beautiful.” Austin’s eyes fill with fatherly love, should I tell him she’s his? “What’s her name?” He asks, eyes not diverting from her. “Sianna.” I say, smiling at his attention on her. “Sianna,” He repeats, stroking her cheek softly. “What an amazing name.” He coos.

“Who’s is she?” He asks, jaw tightening subtly. I can tell the curiosity will be eating away at him. “Yours.” I answer quietly, averting from his eyes. “Oh my god,” He breathes. I can’t tell whether that’s good or bad. “God, Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped with everything and anything.” He looks at me with sense of desperation. “I really thought it wouldn’t matter to you.” I mumble. “Oh, Y/N. Of course it would matter. Firstly, it’s you, anything to do with you and I’m all over it. And secondly, Christ, I have a daughter. I’m a father.” His eyes light up. “You’re… happy ?” I can’t hide my confusion. “Yes. Christ, yes. I have a daughter, we have a daughter. We could be a family.” I hear the tone of pride in his voice. “You’d want that, seriously?” I frown, I’m in disbelief. “Of course I would want that. I want you, don’t I? I would certainly want our daughter too.” His grip on my hands tighten. “As long as you would want that.” He adds at the end, seeking my response. I’m speechless, all I can do is nod enthusiastically. A new feeling flows through me. I’ll have a family. A proper family.

"Oh, Y/N. I’m not one for love,” He recalls his words from our night long ago. “But this was love at first sight.” We both say. Cupping my face, he kisses me across the table. I’ve missed the sweet grip of his lips. Something I never want to miss again.

anonymous asked:

‘I work at a 7/11 and you always come in at 3 am’ AU fluffy klaroline please

Awesome idea, nonnie! I hope you like it. I picked the title partially because of the lyrics, but I just remembered that iconic scene from Reality Bites where the gang are dancing around in the convenience store.

My Sharona

Sunday 3AM

“Ooh, my little pretty one, my pretty one

When you gonna give me some time, Sharona.”

The first time he came into the store was 3am on a Sunday morning. Not that this was surprising to Caroline, it was probably their busiest time of the week, when people stumbled drunkenly out of the nearest bar looking for food to soak up the alcohol they’d consumed.

He wasn’t alone, he was joking with two other guys, all with distinct English accents.  They were good looking, that was for sure, but there was something about the blonde in particular that caught her eye. She pretended to busy herself stacking the shelves, managing to overhear their discussion.

“She was so not interested in you, Kol.”

“That’s where I beg to differ big brother,” the tall, brunette argued. “She was checking me out all night, you noticed it didn’t you, Enzo?”

“She was, until you had to go over there and try to pick her up with some cheesy pick-up line that hasn’t been used since the 1950s.”

“I’ll have you know GQ says that line is making a resurgence. Plus, I’d hardly take advice from you given you date Rebekah, of all people.”

“I don’t often agree with Kol, but he has you on that point.”

“Wonderful brothers you two are.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to grow up with her and all that incessant yammering,” the guy she now knew as Kol, groaned. “I do have to give you points for patience. I’m actually surprised she let you out tonight.”

“Well, even with all your bitching, Rebekah knows you’d kill me if I even looked at another woman. So for her it’s a win win.”

“She’s always been a smart one,” the blonde replied. “Don’t tell her I said that of course.”

“Speaking of smart, how did you manage to score four phone numbers?” Caroline rolled her eyes thinking that sounded about right. The one thing she hated was a player and this guy sounded like the epitome of one, even if he was gorgeous.

She walked towards the register purposefully, hoping to serve them so they’d leave. It was at that point she noticed some dark blue eyes trained on her, madly trying to ignore the sensations they were causing.

“Hello, love,” he murmured, joining her at the register, flashing some very disarming dimples in her direction.

“Can I help you with something?” She replied, trying to hide her disdain at him for using a pet name which he probably used on every other girl.

“I was just saying hello, no need to bite my head off, love,” he murmured, obviously not expecting her terse response.

“Don’t call me, love. I have a name you know.”

“And I would love to hear it,” he smirked, leaning in closer. She closed her eyes momentarily trying to ignore the sexy stubble across his cheeks.

“How about buying something this century?” His mouth was now agape, those crimson lips still taunting her mercilessly though. Before he could respond his two friends she knew as Kol and Enzo stepped forward placing an array of food on the counter.

She set to work, scanning them and placing them in a bag trying to ignore his confused expression. The rejection must have been unfamiliar to someone like him. Caroline had no intention of being the fifth girl to give him her number tonight.

They left soon after, with Caroline wishing her shift would hurry up and finish whilst trying to forget that dejected look in his eyes. It was all part of his act obviously.

Caroline’s favourite number had always been twenty three and as a little girl dreaming about growing up she figured she’d have everything sorted by that age. Although real life had to shatter that dream and here she was twenty three and working at 7-Eleven.

Granted she was studying towards her MBA, which was taking far too long for her liking and meant she had no time for anything, except the middle of the night. Hence why she was pulling the dreaded graveyard shift at her local convenience store and had been for a year now.  Caroline just kept telling herself that it wasn’t forever, thankfully.  

Monday 3AM

The bell above the door jingled, causing her to look up, annoyed someone had disturbed her from catching up on her gossip magazines. What she wasn’t expecting was looking into those blue eyes that, if she was being honest, had haunted her dreams.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his gaze downward as he found his way down one of the aisles. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he searched the personal products aisle, grabbing some painkillers in the process and taking a bottle of water from the fridge. 

He approached her slowly and Caroline could sense his hesitation as he placed them on the counter.  She proceeded to scan them as he spoke.

“I’m Klaus.”

“Well, I didn’t ask but hello, Klaus,” she murmured, nonchalantly. “Would you like a bag for these?” 

“There’s no point, I’ll be taking these straight away,” he answered. “You know for the hangover.”

“Twenty four hours later, it must have been quite some night.” 

“So, you do remember me?” He asked, cocking his left eyebrow. Damn, why did she have to go and say that? 

“I might recall something.”

“So, what exactly do you recall?”  

“You said hello, I bagged your groceries, end of story.”

“I also asked for your name.”

“You did,” she said, having no intention of sharing it with him. “I’m not sure why you are so desperate to know my name given we’re complete strangers.”

“Call me curious, plus I figured if I told you mine, you’d tell me yours.”

“Well, you figured wrong.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem awfully uptight.” She balled up her fists, trying not to react, who did this idiot think he was? 

“And you’re extremely rude,” she shot back. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

“She tried, I just have this habit of not doing what I’m told.”

“Why am I not surprised,” she mumbled.  “That’s $8.75.” He handed over the money, his hand grazing hers briefly causing her palm to tingle. Why did it always have to be the players? She willed herself to ignored it, giving him his change and then busying herself at the register hoping he’d get the hint.

“Thank you, love,” he smirked, walking out of the shop. He certainly didn’t seem hung over, so why the hell did he need drugs, especially at this time of the morning? She shrugged her shoulders thinking it was probably best not to question it, even if he was gorgeous. 

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