i can never remember how to spell his name

Reaction #27: Obliviate Part II

Obliviate Reaction: Part I | Part II 

Originally posted by angel-in-slow-motion



He watched as you held hands with your new boyfriend in the cafe. Your love for him not gone, he knew just erased. The danger was still around, yet he could do nothing to stop it.  He looked away as Minseok who he brought with him kicked him under the chair.

“Your muttering spells again.”  He whispered as Baekhyun nodded. Both getting up to leave.  When he looked back he made eye contact with you and took in a deep breath unable to hide his emotions. Yours of confusion walked across yours as you wondered why did this beautiful man look so pained in front of you.

Originally posted by dearbyun



As you were walking out of the coffee shop you, saw the back of someone.  Someone you knew you loved and missed dearly but couldn’t figure out who.  Running you grabbed his arm as he paused, turning wide-eyed to one he realized it was you.  

“Ah, I’m sorry.”  You whispered  realizing you pulled over someone else that wasn’t him.  “I thought that you were someone else.”   You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion as you let go and quickly walked away.  Sehun gripped Chanyeol’s arm stopping him from following you as his eyes filled with tears.  

“Not yet.” He whispered as you turned the corner.  

“She’s looking for me but she doesn’t even remember me.”  Sehun pulled Chanyeol into the alley as he pulled out his wand.

“Apparition.”  Sehun muttered with his hand on his arm.  

Originally posted by fyeah-chanyeol



He looked in your window.  Sitting on the roof of the opposite building. You had just woken up from another nightmare.

“Why do you do this to yourself Baekhyun asked as he stood. Behind his friend. 

“Why do you?”  Baekhyun remained quiet as Jongdae stood trying to wish you calm once more. “She gets panic attacks in her sleep. I used to calm her down but now.”  He watched as you paced back and forth frightened and breathing out of control.  “I feel helpless.”  He spoke as he Baekhyun placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We all do.”  

Originally posted by royaldyo


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Pyro (1)

Everyone around me burns to ashes.–Lucas Friar, Pyro.

Chapter 1. Introductions

Lucas Friar flicked the ball of paper into the air and watched as it landed on his best friend’s hair. Zay Babineaux continued to jot down notes, unaware of the seemingly increasing paper balls stuck to his hair.

Lucas smirked, steadied his fingers, and this time launched a blue pen. Zay ducked down to grab a colored pen from his backpack and Lucas’ eyes widened as the pen bounced off long brown hair.

The girl’s fingers flew to her hair before she spun in her seat to find a perpetrator. Her eyes zeroed in on Lucas whose desk was full of crumpled up paper and similar pens. She tilted her head and stared at him for a moment, making him slightly self- conscious.

He winked at her and she flushed brightly and returned to her notes. Zay looked back at him and shook his head, letting the paper fall off his curls.

“You know I don’t appreciate you messing up my afro,” Zay nudged Lucas as they walked out of class.

“I was bored,” Lucas answered simply and opened his locker, “Mrs. Deven is boring. I’m tired of chemistry, honestly.”

“It’s English class actually,” Zay muttered. “There’s a party tonight, you in?”

“Pass,” Lucas shoved his books into his locker trading it for his motorcycle helmet. “I’m not really in the mood in spending time with self-absorbed wannabe high school royalty.”

“You are such a cliche, you know that?” Zay grinned glancing at Lucas’ leather jacket and combat boots.

“You’re this cliche’s best friend,” Lucas smiled. “That makes you a cliche too.”

“Whatever man,” Zay’s eyes drifted towards something down the hall. “Miss Goody Two Shoes coming our way.”

“What?” Lucas turned and found himself staring down at a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

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lenfaz  asked:

Prompt: CS AU "I’m a barista and you’re the obnoxious customer who comes through and orders a venti macchiato while talking on the phone the whole time so I misspell your name in increasingly creative ways every day AU" Which goes with "I’m a busy businessperson and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly, who does this person think they are AU" Take your time and thanks!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! It’s more of just funny ways to spell the name instead of disrespectful. I had a lot of fun with this prompt. YOU SHOULD TOTALLY SEND ME MORE WHEN YOU GET THEM.


It’s not his fault that he has a constantly busy job as a businessman who has to deal with multiple phone calls a day. And not to mention the fact that all of these phone calls are usually early in the morning - precisely a reason he despises being his own business owner, instead of a mere employee. But when business calls, it calls.

He’s usually not that bad of a person, at least, that’s what he thinks he is. In fact, he believes he is a decent gentleman who does everything he possibly can to reach his own standards and to be capable of pleasing himself - to feel satisfaction.

And it’s particularly difficult to get to work early with a clear mind after a rather heated phone call when the barista who spells his name wrong every day and every time he orders a drink does so again. The first time he only thought of it as a mistake and the second, he just simply decided to ignore it… but it starts to get rather frustrating every time he takes his drink to notice the misunderstanding of how to spell “Killian.”

“No, Mr. Smee, that is not what we have sent orders in for,” he complains, nodding at the barista (no mention to the beautiful blonde with a raised brow, definitely not) who just knows his normal by now. “Perhaps if you cannot complete such a simple task, I’ll have your bloody behind out of my company so you can rattle your way to find another occupation instead of dragging down this one.”

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The series is as follows :

Mama Scully’s Party …. MorningUnderwearsMapsNachosFoul BallPromisesStayPhone CallsFlannel InterruptionAwakeningFriendly CompromisesScrabbleApart …  A Long WeekLightningMissing YouInterimStuffWaitingGoingHandsUnsteadyFearFastSlowRegardlessInto the DarkLightSurfboardsCurbsShowersBordersCanyonsSoakedIce CreamNever HappenedDeep SouthAlmostBlue-Suede ShoesUnwelcomeRemarkableStarsDoorbellsM&MsKneesHome


Their dual hangovers were nursed at the pool, no tacos in sight but plenty of water and one rum and Coke apiece seemed to ease the burden. By that evening, they were out and about, taking a touristy ghost tour at Mulder’s insistence, “because if you’re looking for a good haunted place, Scully, you look to New Orleans.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Mulder.”

“Remind me to go to bed tonight with a sign on my chest stating, ‘she said it, not me’ and an arrow pointing to you.”

He kept up with the guide fairly well, his height affording him better acoustics than Scully, who’s shortness kept her in the muffled area of everyone else’s shoulders. She was okay with this though, given the sheer rapturous look on Mulder’s face the entire time. He absorbed these stories like a sponge and Scully had more than one thought that they’d be on a case down here soon, if he had anything to say about it.

She was so enamored watching him she was surprised then their group broke up, the tour over, the evening coming to a close. Mulder gave her a smile, then leaned in to her sightline, “you so totally spooked you can’t move? Please say you are. I’ll buy you a Beignet if you say you are.”

Catching the corner of his mouth in a kiss, she first patted his cheek, thumb running over where she’d just kissed, then ever so lightly scratching her fingernails down his two days worth of stubble, “how ‘bout I buy the Beignets and we call it good.”

“I’m already calling it pretty good.”

Once they were at the little café across from the hotel, listening to the band do their jazz thing, Scully reached across the table, pulling gently on his pointer finger knuckle until he opened his hand and she slipped her fingers through his, palms pressed together lightly, “you know what?”

His eyes were locked on hers, “what?”

“I haven’t gotten to hold your hand since you broke your leg. It’s eight days.”

Tugging her forward, he raised her fist to his lips, kissing randomly, tasting both powdered sugar and delicious Scully, “nine, actually.”

The fact that he knew the count better than she did warmed her instantly, “I’ve missed it.”

Still nursing her knuckles, “me, too.” Etta James began in the background and Mulder grinned at her, “I’d ask you to dance but I imagine I’d fall over right now.”

“We’ll dance, Mulder. When you’re better, we’ll dance.” Her eyes shined at him, “and then we’ll hold hands and forget about the world.”

“Like we are right now?”

Moving her second hand to him, she caressed the soft hairs on the back of his hand, making the ones on his neck stand up, “exactly like we are right now.”

The things lined up on the end of his tongue to declare to her were rudely banished by a clumsy waiter accidently throwing a large mug of hot coffee on Mulder when he stumbled, tripping on a neighboring table’s chair. Forgetting about broken leg, cast and crutches, Mulder flew backwards in his attempt to stand, to brush the burning liquid from his chest, crotch and bare legs. Instead of smooth execution, he went for formless crashing flat on his back, his head cracking painfully against a low brick wall, effectively ending his consciousness immediately.

It also saved him from seeing the heart-wrenching look on Scully’s face as she dropped beside him.


The first face, thankfully, that swam in front of him was hers and not some annoying, pimply-faced doctor, entirely too young to have any kind of degree and telling him to remember three stupid things for his concussion test.

“Mulder? You with us?”

It was only then that he realized he was on his side, “huh?”

“You waking up?” Her fingers were on his forehead, playing with the hair at his temple, “don’t try to roll over, okay?”

She was blurry and his head ached, “what?”

Her expression shifted from concerned Scully to concerned doctor, “Mulder? Can you hear me?”

Shutting his eyes would be better. if only he could figure out the words to tell her to move out of the way, to tell her he was about to throw up from the room spinning and the pounding in his head.

The next thing he knew, she was in front of him, wearing a scrub top, worrying the corner of her thumb, “hey, you’re gonna make it bleed if you keep chewing on it like that.”

His ears and Scully’s, however, heard some kind of garbled mess, the only word standing out was ‘chewing’ and she removed her thumb, “you scare me like that, I reserve the right to gnaw on my thumb.” He went to nod and pain exploded in his head. A whimper escaped his pale lips and Scully shushed him with the same thumb now on his cheek, “don’t move, okay? You’ve got an impressive amount of stitches in the back of your head from the brick wall you slammed in to as well as a pretty good concussion.”

“Matching scars.” She had to lean forward to hear him repeat, “matching scars. You and I.”

Letting out a wet chuckle that gave away her very recent tears, “yes, matching scars.”

His hand drifted up and he watched it, slightly confused as to how he was moving it, given he couldn’t really feel it, the clouded haze of his head making his limbs feel detached and weightless. Finally, he ran into her cheek, “you were crying.”

Given it was 2am and she was tired and her nerves were frazzled and this was Mulder, she nodded against his fingers, “yeah. You had me scared there for a little while.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me and not in jail. I should have been with you when you fell. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.”

His words were clearer now but he was still slurring and that look of concern was back. Removing her face from his hand, “I’m going to go grab the doctor. I’ll be back.”

The third time he opened his eyes, she was there again, this time looking exhausted. Her smile, however, was wide, “welcome back.” Resting her elbows on the bed, she tilted her head to see him straight, “do you remember how to spell Elvis’ middle name?”


“How many fish do you have?”


“Do you think Frohike is cute?”

“Only when he wears his bunny pajamas.”

Brushing her lips over the tip of his nose, “I can finally understand you.”

This time, he could control his hand when it reached for her, wrapping his fingers around her forearm, thumb running over the crease of her elbow, “you’ve been crying again.”

Blinking rapidly a few times, “over you? Never.”

“Yes, over me.”

“Believe what you want. Mostly I’m just really tired.”

He smiled at her as best he could, “I’d invite you up here with me but I’m afraid to move. Last time I did, someone let off a jackhammer in my skull.”

“I’m fine in my chair, I promise.” Giving him one last concentrated stare that made his heart skip a beat, which registered on the monitor for God and Scully to witness, “you have 22 stitches.”

“Damn wall cracked me open like an egg, didn’t it?”

Moving forehead to forehead, eyebrow to eyebrow, nose nestled to nose and lips so close there was no light between them, “I don’t like being scared like that. Don’t do it again, okay?”

He desperately wanted to close that last micron of space but his head pounded and his heart’s erratic rhythm was making him nauseous, “I’ll try.”

She could hear the monitor doing funny things and she pulled away, “you okay?”

“Puke,” was the only word he got out before she had a basin under his mouth and a cool hand on his clammy forehead as he dry-heaved.

When he finished, she moved the still-empty container, leaning over to kiss his cheek lightly, “you’ll feel better soon.”


“I’ll go see what you can take. Hang on while I’m gone, okay?”

Knowing not to nod, he just shut his eyes, waiting for either death or his Scully to return.


He spent the dismal remains of that night and the next in the hospital, his concussion severe enough to need constant monitoring and bless her, Scully sat next to him the whole time, going back to the hotel only to change and shower.

When he was finally released, he moved slow, thoroughly afraid of falling again, resorting to a wheel chair instead of his crutches. She packed their things and checked out of the hotel, then came to pick him up at the hospital entrance, helping his maneuver into the Jeep, “comfortable?”

Pillow behind his back to keep his head from resting on the seat, “sure. Why not.”

Taking that as a ‘yes’, they pulled into traffic, “home?”

“Do we have to?”

A challenge || L & K

It was a cool breezy afternoon, Louis was walking with two of his fellow gryffindor house mates boasting about who was a faster flyer and who has the better magic cards. Of course Louis won for both particular subject although, of course he wasn’t as fast of a flyer as the famous Harry Potter himself.
He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, keeping it in place which his hair reach down his neck brushed back expect for the bangs that fell to side of his face perfectly. He was very very picky when it came to his looks, he was very proud of what he looked like thank you very much. If anyone were to touch his hair without given permission they instantly lose a limp.

“Honestly Louis, you may thing you’re so fast but really you aren’t as fast as Harry.”
He shuffled a laughter, refusing to admit to this he turned the tables.
“You’re just jealous because I’m much faster then you.”
The three boys were so focused into their conversations they didn’t pay attention to a red headed girl.
Louis, knocked right into the ravenclaw girl knocking all her books down.
He gasped “I’m so sorry.” Something you never hear very often from him however he was also very nice and courteous. “Let me help you.” He reached down, grabbing some books stacking them on top of eachother neatly. “You like to read I’m assuming?” His green eyes caught hers, and he was completely captivated by her beauty, as if she was a black hole sucking him right in. “I don’t think we’ve met.”