i have watched this at least fifty times already no joke

Sally Jackson

Sometimes, Sally lies awake at night. She stares up at the ceiling in her quiet house—ignoring Paul’s snores—and she thinks the same thought over and over again. What if.

It’s not a question. It’s never been a question, because there’s never been a definitive answer.

She thinks about Annabeth during nights like these. Paul loves her, considers her to be like a daughter. Strangely, Sally’s never felt this way. To call Annabeth her daughter would infantilize a brilliantly strong woman who is more than capable of standing by herself. If anything, Sally is hopelessly envious.

It’s a guilty feeling. Annabeth’s life has been hard, needlessly so. Sally doesn’t want to brush aside that pain and hardship just to focus on an ideal. But…Sally was young too, once.

She was young. And smart. And powerful. And hopeful. And strong. She wanted to change the world.

She watches as Annabeth rebuilds Mount Olympus, leaves her mark on this world in a permanent way. An old flame burns inside Sally’s soul.

What if.

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special

“My chest hurts.” His eyes were glossy but he wouldn’t let himself cry anymore. His hair was a mess, and his cheeks were puffy and red. He looked so genuinely sad, and it broke your heart.

"I know, but it will be okay. Just give yourself some time. Want more tea?” You said trying to say cheerfully, but it didn’t matter. You knew Shawn was going to be this heartbroken for a while. He was such a passionate person and so whenever he felt anything, he felt it strongly. He really loved his now ex girlfriend, and watching her leave him, really just broke his heart. I mean, it happens right? Everyone’s bound to get their heart broken at least once in their life, and it’s going to suck, but it still has to happen. The only problem is, it’s already happened to Shawn once, and now it’s happening again. You had been best friends with Shawn since the beginning, and you watched him grow. You watched him be heartbroken about girls like now, and also about small things like losing his favorite guitar pick. You loved him as a friend, but you also loved him romantically. You wished you had the courage to tell him so, and to tell him to stop wasting his time with other stupid girls who seem to only like him for his fame. But your hair was a mess, and you wore band t-shirts with long stained sweaters. Shawn liked beautiful girls with long hair and straight teeth. At least that’s how the last girls looked. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered right now was how Shawn was feeling. He was broken, and there was nothing you could do.

“I think I’m just gunna take another nap.” He grabbed the blanket and headed for the couch again. But before he sat down you spoke up.

“You know what, why don’t we go do something. You already took like fifty naps Shawn, let’s go out and get some fresh air, no? No more moping around.” You took the blanket from him and put it on the couch.

Shawn just stood there, giving you a look, like he didn’t know what to say. He rubbed his eyes a a couple times before saying, “What would we even do?”

“We could go out to eat, go see a movie. I don’t know, whatever you want.”

“She loved seeing movies.” Shawn spoke quietly and you rolled your eyes. He was going through that phase of a breakup where everything in the world related back to your ex. Earlier that morning Shawn barely drank his tea saying stuff like “She used to drink this exact tea on the balcony at this exact time.” And it broke your heart to see Shawn so sad, but at the same time you really were tired of it.

“Shawn, do me a favor? Okay, we are gunna go out to eat, because I’m hungry okay? But, when we go, and even just now, whenever I talk I want you to listen very carefully to everything I say and just don’t think about her okay?” You said remembering how your friends handled your first heartbreak. They made conversation with you about random things, and snapped in your face whenever they noticed you close your eyes, or look away, meaning you were thinking of something that wasn’t important. You hoped you could think of random topics to talk about with Shawn, and you hoped he would listen.

“Okay.” He said simply, and soon enough the both of you were off to that burger place downtown. It was the only place where Shawn hadn’t gone on some kind of date with his ex. You talked to him about your life and how busy you were lately. You told him about work and school and just everything in between. But eventually you got tired of talking about stuff he mostly already knew.

“You wanna know something?” You said with your mouth full of fries.

“Sure.” Shawn said and ran his hands through his hair, leaning against the table across from you. He was so pretty, and he didn’t even try.

“When I was like 13, I told myself that I’d marry my first boyfriend, that way I wouldn’t have to ever experience heartbreak. Funny right?” You laughed as you wiped the grease from the food off your hands. You weren’t trying to bring up the topic of relationships but you were just being honest, hoping that maybe Shawn would understand that heartbreak is bound to happen even when you try to prevent it.

“You always had that kind of mind. Wish I knew you when you were 13.” Shawn joked, because he knew you when you were only a year older and that’s when you first became friends.

“Can I rant? I think, all day, I’ve been crying about all this, and not actually talking about it and sometimes talking helps. Is it okay if I rant?” Shawn spoke with a rawness in his voice. You loved how honest and real your friendship with him was. So you nodded your head, and he started ranting. Ranting about how beautiful she was, about how he did everything she wanted all the time, about how he thought he was so lucky. It was breaking your heart to see him so sad. It made you realize really what love does to us as humans. It makes us destroy ourselves for someone else, hoping they’ll destroy themselves back for us. And when they don’t, we destroy ourselves even more, thinking it will help. And so here Shawn was, sitting across from you, ripping his own heart out, wishing he could put it on some kind of pretty platter and hand it right over to his ex.

“It’s not fair. How come the people we love most don’t love us back?” He was making circles on the table with his finger, and tapping his foot in the chair.

“Sometimes the people who actually love you, are sitting right in front of you and you just don’t realize it.” You said without even noticing that you were literally sitting in front of Shawn. You were just speaking the truth you heard your friend say to you once.

“What’s that supposed to mean, you got some kind of feelings for me or something?” Shawn was shaking his head and laughing. You looked up from your food and realized what he got out of what you said.

“I never said that, but so what would you say if I did have feelings for you?” You were a little hurt that he was laughing but at the same time you knew that’s how it would end up being anyway. That’s why you never told him how you felt.

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Why not?” You sat with your elbows in the table, your chin in the palm of your hands.

“Because you’re you. I dunno.” You were taken back at what he said and you wanted an explanation. You raised your eyebrows and just stared at him.

“I mean like, you’re a rockstar Y/N. You’re out there kicking ass in your colorful socks and band t-shirts. You’re the smartest chick I know and, the way you live your life is just.. It’s different, you’re different. I always guessed you’d like a guy that’s different too. Not me, I’m just your average white kid that happens to be able to sing. Nothing special really, nothing compared to someone like you.” This was the second time now you were taken back by everything Shawn said, and you just sat there staring at him not knowing what to say.

“You seriously think you aren’t special?” Was all you said at first. Shawn just shook his head some more and laughed again.

“You’re Shawn Mendes, you’re the most popular name out there right now, and probably forever. If you weren’t special, you wouldn’t have millions of girls running after you everyday. Don’t fucking sit here and tell me that you’d be surprised if I liked you Shawn. You can call me different but in reality I’m not. I’m just like every other girl out there who’s crazy in love with you and your special ass.” You weren’t saying it in a mean way, you were just being as honest as possible and you surprised yourself at first, but you were sick of pretending that you weren’t in love wth your best friend who sat across from you, mouth wide open.

“You’re in love with me?”

You shrugged your shoulders and stood up from the table getting ready to leave, regretting what you said. You and Shawn walked out in silence and suddenly the cool air hit you and you stood outside, letting the wind blow your hair around.

“I asked you a question back there.” Shawn reminded you of what he said before, but this time he grabbed your shoulder. You turned to look at him.

“Yes Shawn. I’ve been in love with you since day one. Don’t act like you didn’t know.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, hoping you weren’t upsetting Shawn. You stood still for a minute, before you notice Shawn walk closer to you. He was so tall, looking down at you.

His hands were now pushing the other pieces of hair around your face, behind your other ear, and he was looking right at you. He leaned in slowly to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“You’re lonely Shawn. You’re sad. You want someone to kiss and as much as I get that, I’m not letting it happen. I’ll bring you home and you can go back to moping and do whatever you want, but I’m not letting you use me to get rid of your pain okay?” Your face was probably bright red and you could feel your heart beating in your chest, like it was going to jump out and land right in Shawn’s hands. But you didn’t let it. Not this time.

“What do you think I am? Some kind of fuck boy? I wouldn’t kiss someone just for fun Y/N. I did that maybe once. Maybe twice.. But you’re my best friend.”

You stared at him in the cold, and he just stood there staring back at you. The cold air was making his nose pink and his eyes were watering from the wind. You didn’t know what to say, so you just walked over to the car opening to door and getting in. Once you were both seated in the car, Shawn turned on the ignition getting ready to drive before saying, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Was all you could think to say. Shawn started driving and the ride home was quiet. Silent actually, no words. You sang softly to the radio that played but otherwise, there was nothing more between you and Shawn. That was, until you got home. He threw the keys on the table and yelled.

“I fucking love you okay? There, I said it.”

You stood still in your tracks, and you turned to face Shawn.

“Um.. I love you too?” You said and titled your head, before letting out a weak laugh.

“No Y/N. I mean like, like more than that. Of course I never told you because I was too busy being stupid with other girls. But what I said back there, before we got home, it had me thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what I said about how you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna be kissing girls for fun anymore, I wanna be kissing my best friend.” You slowly walked closer to Shawn, watching him as he stood still, his hands in his pockets.

“Really?” You raised your eyebrows, laughing, just in case he was joking.

“Yeah really. Really, really really Y/N.” But he wasn’t joking, his hands were on your neck now, and his breath was warm against your skin. His voice vibrated into your head and soon enough his mouth was on yours. You didn’t stop him this time, instead you kissed back, harder, grabbing his hair and running your fingers through it.

You let out an awkward noise, and you stumbled over the table that was behind you. Shawn pulled away and smiled into your mouth, laughing at you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” You admitted as you grabbed his hand.

“So have I.”

anonymous asked:

andreil + 121? i think itd be so funny and maybe neil accidentally blurts it out in front of the foxes and andrew mocks him for it later

I am so so sorry that this took so long, but its finally here [along with the strength to write all of the other generous prompts I’ve received :) ]

From here.


Summer was just beginning for most high schools and even for some college students when the Foxes were called back to PSU to continue training once again. Not that Neil minded in the slightest, but this year was going to be different, what with the girls on their last season and the new recruits already being a pain in his ass.

They started up pretty easy, much to Kevin’s anguish and Nicky’s delight, going through basic drills that tempered footwork and stamina before moving onto stick work and fundamental technique. And surprisingly, the new kids had gotten on pretty well, with the exception of one who did everything in his power to try an outdo the rest, both in performance and problems on and off the court.

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Can I...? (Ten x Reader)

Hey everyone! This one goes out to the light of my life @succaphon, who deserves far more than my lame excuse for some Ten fluff. She’s the Dark Mistress of Prompts and blessed me with one to bring to life. I hope you love this one Tsh, because it’s all for you baby ;) I hope you and everyone else absolutely explode from feels because that is my goal and what I strive for every day. #MAKETSHLOYAL2K16

p.s. arthoe!ten is my aesthetic, nothing beats seeing this boy draw. NOTHING.

Originally posted by tenace

You told yourself at least fifty times this morning while agonizing over what to wear, don’t wear a skirt, yet here you were. Freezing, even with tights, goosebumps making a permanent home all over your thighs as you trudged away from your single room apartment towards school.

It was late October and autumn was in full swing. The vibrant red and russets, fiery oranges, and subdued yellows were breathtaking, but they did nothing to curb your anxiety as you walked along. You adjusted your giant tartan print scarf, pushing it up your face to cover your nose and the fact you were chewing on your bottom lip nervously. You had decided to take the long way to school, even while wearing a skirt, because you still didn’t know how you were going to do it, or even if you were going to do it at all.

Fellow college students on bikes whistled past you as you entered the park, whooping with laughter as the sped on ahead and joked among themselves. You pushed your scarf up again, fingers shaking beneath your mittens as you forced your legs to walk faster. You purposely woke up this morning so that you would have enough time to walk through the park before arriving at school. Why, on one of the coldest days so far, had you decided to wear a skirt and take the longest walk? 

Because of him.

You’d been switching up your morning route ever since you first saw him walking with his friends through here on your way to school. He’d looked so unapologetically beautiful with his radiant smile and musical laugh, pushing his dark hair from his eyes as he listened to a funny story. Your breath had completely left you then, knees shaking as you realized your little crush you’d developed on Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul was much, much more. It only grew worse when you learned he was in the same Visual Arts program as you, every day beginning and ending with the thought of him. You constantly chastised yourself for your attraction to him, it was so bad you couldn’t formulate a proper sentence when he talked to you. He could ask for a different paint brush and you would stutter and blush like he was asking for your hand in marriage. Ten always smiled warmly at you, his eyes alight with mischief as he noticed your obvious nervousness, but he thankfully never said anything.

You began to notice that Ten and his friends always entered the park through the later entrance, to-go coffee cups warming their cold fingers as they walked languidly towards school. You always ended up passing them and going on ahead because they didn’t really care if they were late to class because the teachers were all so laid back and knew that they were good students already. But you always walked by them quickly, hand nervously gripping your bag that held your precious sketchbook and supplies like some shoujo anime school girl. 

Today was no different, and you saw the familiar black bomber jacket ahead of you amongst the large group of boys and your face heated up. You tugged hastily on your skirt, pulling it down out of embarrassment as you went to pass them. One of them called out with a whistle, “Nice set of legs there, ______! You should show them off more often!” You heard some of the boys snicker at this, practically patting themselves on the back for being so funny.

You felt your face heat up underneath your scarf, fingers hold your bag in a death grip as you tried to look calm and walk carefully away.

“Knock it off, Johnny. Leave her be,” came the annoyed voice of Ten. “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, you know." 

The boys all laughed raucously then, giving you the chance to turn around a sneak a look at him. Through all the cacophony, Ten managed to catch your eyes that peeked out from your oversized scarf, a small apologetic smile on his face. You squeaked in surprise, frozen legs suddenly thawed as you hurried on ahead, red face thankfully covered by your scarf. If you had turned around, you would have saw the worried look that Ten shot after you, watching your small back disappear into another dense crowd of students.

A million thoughts were bouncing around in your head, all from one look a boy gave you. How much sadder could you get? If you weren’t in public you would be laughing at yourself right about now. Tea, you thought hazily as you finally arrived at school, jogging over to a hot-cold vending machine and jamming the button for your favorite warm milk tea. You breathed in deeply, trying to lose the unnecessary tension in your shoulders as your drink clunked to the bottom of the machine. You grabbed it and set off up the gleaming stairs towards the art studio classroom, anticipation curdling in your stomach with each step.

The school you attended was a private Fine Arts university, the pride and joy of Seoul’s art community, and the most prestigious in the city. Students from across the globe attended this melting pot of a school, coming to dance, sing, compose, and create art. It had been your dream since high school to attend, so when you were finally accepted into the rigorous art program, you packed your bags and moved to Seoul. People always asked if you regretted leaving everything behind, to answer them, no you didn’t. This had been your dream for so long and you were finally living it, you haven’t been happier in your whole life. You smiled to yourself, forgetting why you had been anxious at all as you bounded up the stairs.

The art studio was almost on the top floor, the big, loft-style classroom splattered with talent as past and current students decorated the exposed brick and even the ceiling with graffiti, paintings, murals, quotes, or just tiny, messy strokes left from swatching colors. The large windows, let in copious amounts of stunning natural light and allowed for a spectacular view of the Seoul skyline. Even after attending for two years, you were still struck with the eclectic beauty of your school.

You took a seat at your favorite desk, an old creaky wooden one whose top was still as smooth as the day it was made. It was pushed right against one of the windows, allowing a peaceful view of the city to inspire those who sat there. Two chairs were pushed neatly into the table, one for you and one for your bags. Your classmates didn’t usually sit with you anyway, they knew you liked your solitude, but would still pop over to say hello and see what you were up to. You appreciated their interest in your drawings and paintings, it made you feel a little less lonely than you felt.

You eased your bag down into one of the chairs with a relieved smile, slipping your mittens off and pulling your big scarf from around your neck and letting it all pool in the seat. Your camel colored coat followed next as you draped it over the back of the chair you liked to sit in best. You pulled it out and sat down with a content sigh, rummaging around in your bag to pull out your sketchbook and tools. Today was what your professor called, a Self Day, where all the students were free to work on whatever they wanted or even not work at all and just relax. Your classmates worked on web comics, digital pieces, commissions, personal projects, or doodled, letting the buzzing classroom be their muse. Many were goofing off today, it was a Friday and you couldn’t blame them for itching to be free and enjoy the weekend, you felt the same way. There was just something on your mind though that you couldn’t shake.

You opened your sketchbook to a blank page and began to absentmindedly sketch the noses of the people around you from memory, your head resting in your hand as you worried your lip between your teeth. Any moment now, Ten would walk into the classroom and you would become ten times more self conscious. You’d worn a skirt this morning in an attempt to look cute, but it had backfired and now you were just miserably cold. Would he notice that you were trying to dress for him? He’d probably think you were weird now and just not speak to you anymore, leaving you alone and even more heartbroken.

It was no big secret that Ten was one of the most sought after guys at school, everyone knew that. He was handsome, charismatic, multi-talented, and pretty much perfect to any girl with two working eyes and a brain, and you were no exception. 

You drew a cute ski-slope nose without thinking, wanting to slam your head on the table as the owner of said nose walked into the classroom. Many people greeted him and he smiled at them in turn, but you didn’t even bother to turn around, afraid you would trip over your own words and make a fool of yourself. So you continued to quietly shade the noses you’d drawn, keeping your mind at work and away from wondering over across the room to where Ten usually sat.

You heard footsteps behind you, knowing that someone was about to bother you. You groaned quietly and spun in your chair, "Not right now, please. I’m-” You practically swallowed your tongue, soft lips parting in a gasp. 

“Is this seat taken?,” Ten smiled, his dark eyes filled with amusement. 

“O-oh, no?,” you stuttered and shook yourself in disbelief. “I mean, no! Go ahead, let me just move my things.”

“Thanks, let me help you,” he grinned, he reached for your scarf and mittens, "These are really cute, I noticed you wearing them this morning and I wanted to say something, but you walked away so quickly.“ He looked shockingly crestfallen, fingers smoothing over the soft fabric of your scarf.

You felt heat creep up your neck, "Oh, sorry,” you set your bag down beside you on the floor, chewing on your bottom lip, “But thank you.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said lightly, settling down into the empty chair. “I wouldn’t blame you for walking away though, Johnny can be a handful sometimes. But he’s a good guy, so don’t hold it against him.” He pulled out a beautiful leather covered sketchbook and pens, spreading them out carefully on the table so as to not intrude into your space.

“Yeah,” you gave a small smile, “I was kinda asking for it, wearing this today.” You gestured meekly at your skirt, pulling it down self consciously. You saw the way his eyes followed your hands and blushed, quickly crossing your legs and returning to shading your noses.

Ten watched as you added delicate details, the corners of his mouth turning up as he murmured, “I was about to say how nice you looked today. Haven’t you noticed? Everyone’s been doodling you.”

“W-what?,” your brow rose in surprise, “No way…,” you peeked over at some open sketchbooks and scrap pieces of paper. Your oversized sweater and skirt clad figure was doodled everywhere, which didn’t surprise you since everyone drew each other for life or anatomy studies all the time. But it was you, the quiet just kind of there girl.

“If you don’t mind,” Ten tapped his pencil thoughtfully, “Would you allow me to sketch you too? Just as a warm up? I’ll even do it from memory if that makes you more comfortable.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, cheeks pink as your voice shook, “Sure, if you really want to.” His face lit up at your words of permission, his fingers drumming excitedly across the table. You went back to shading the Ten-inspired nose without realizing it, hands quivering slightly as he leaned in close, head tilted a little. 

A grin spread across his face, “Hey, that’s mine,” he pointed to the drawing of his nose. “And there’s Taeyong’s and even Yuta’s!” He picked out each nose, fingers deftly flitting across your sketchbook as you sunk low into your seat in embarrassment. 

“They’re so detailed,” he admired, then laughing, “You made my nose actually look good.”

You smiled at his words, glancing at him from under your lashes as he began to sketch in his notebook. His pen flew across the page, jumping from edge to edge as he sprinkled shading, texture, and depth throughout the simple drawing. He noticed your eyes staring and playfully pushed your cheek away with an ink stained finger, “No peeking, okay?”

“Okay,” you blushed happily, realizing that Ten was more normal than you had initially thought. Maybe you had put him on a bit of a pedestal, but he deserved it. His laughter and happiness was contagious and you felt your body grow lighter as you resumed drawing, doodling his amazing pierced ears as you waited for him to finish.

About thirty minutes passed, and by that point, you’d sketched one of his eyes when he let out a puff of air, “Done." Ten pushed his sketchbook over to you, an expectant look on his face, "Here, what do you think?”

You gasped softly, fingers softly touching the drawing as you gazed at it in awe. It was you, eyes peeking out from behind your ridiculously large scarf, hair tossed around in the autumn breeze as you pushed it away from your face with a mittened hand. Each stroke of his pen was so precise and light, each of your eyelashes painstakingly drawn and even the fabric of your scarf seemed to be real.

“Ten,” you breathed, heart swelling as you realized he had drawn you so beautifully, more than you really were. “She’s so beautiful.”

“‘She’?,” he laughed, biting his lip and nudging you playfully, “That’s you, ______.” He scooted his sketchbook back, eyes bashful as he closed it, “At least that’s how I saw you this morning.” The bell rang suddenly, signaling lunch was now prepared in the cafeteria for anyone who was hungry or had time for a snack. Ten began to collect his things, “Well I’ll see you later?”

Your breath left you, Did he just…? You shook yourself quickly, gathering your things, “Y-yes! I will,” you froze, realizing your gibberish, “I mean, you will…?”

Ten chuckled, his eyes smiling as he slung his backpack over his shoulders, “I will.” He raised an eyebrow and gave you one last heart wrenching smile, “I’ll see you around, ______.”

“Yeah,” you smiled back, watching him walk away and mingle with the other students. You stood up and tugged down your skirt, freezing as you remembered the one thing you’d been dying to ask him for weeks now. “Ten?,” you called out hurriedly, heart hammering as he turned around.

 He looked surprised but hopeful, hand pushing back his dark hair, “Yes?”

You gulped, hands shaking as you gripped your skirt and felt a sudden surge of courage, “Can I-”

“Ten! Whatcha doin’ buddy?,” the familiar loud voice of Johnny boomed, slinging his arm around Ten’s smaller frame as he pulled him away, “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Ten protested, but he let his friend shepherd him away from you, not even getting the chance to say goodbye as Johnny whisked him into the crowd of students. Your heart sunk into your stomach, feeling defeated as you finished packing your things. You didn’t even feel like eating at this point, disappointment sucking the spirit and appetite out of your body.

As you left the studio, you decided on a whim to just go find one of the old empty classrooms and hang out in there. You really didn’t feel like seeing anyone right now, might as well go pout by yourself in peace. You found one at the very end of the floor, the old work tables had paint peeling off of the wood, but other than that it seemed good enough to suit your needs. You didn’t bother turning a light on, letting the natural glow of midday pour in through the windows and warm your cold fingers as you pulled out your half empty bottle of milk tea. You eyed it grumpily, opening the cap and taking a sip of the now room temperature drink. It tasted bittersweet and sad, your mood sinking lower as you curled up in one of the creaky old chairs.

Why couldn’t you be more outgoing? If you had just went up to Ten, pulled him aside, anything really, and just told him without swallowing your own tongue, maybe he would say yes. Even if he didn’t, you’d at least be proud of yourself for plucking up the courage to ask him. You saw your sketchbook peeking out from your bag from the corner of your eye, huffing before you dumped it on the table and turned to the last page you had been working on. You gazed sadly at the drawing of Ten’s nose, a finger coming up to stroke the paper bridge softly. You were so hopelessly smitten with that boy that if he did say no, you’re sure it would feel like the end of the world. 

You groaned and buried your face in your arms, so caught up with wallowing in your own despair that you didn’t hear the door open and close softy. Only when a hand pressed against your back gently did you jump in surprise, knee bouncing up and hitting the bottom edge of the table painfully, “Ah!”

“Woah!,” came the same voice that smushed your heart into a ball. The hand on your back moved up and down it soothingly, “Take it easy there, ______.”
You turned and took in the always handsome face of Ten, his gentle eyes, button nose, and petal shaped lips that twitched into an amused smile, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You licked your bottom lip nervously, “Oh, no I’m fine.” Wonder and confusion filled your face as you regarded him, “I just didn’t expect anyone else to end up in here.”

Ten messed with the zipper of his worn bomber jacket, “Well I sort of came to find you.” He occupied his hands by zipping and unzipping a small section, “Johnny kind of interrupted, and I think you wanted to ask me something…,” he suddenly looked worried, “Unless I’m totally wrong and I’m assuming too much?”

If you were allowed to, you would’ve grabbed him by his face and peppered it with kisses. You wanted to squeal at his adorable behavior, but instead you waved your hands, “No, no! There was something I wanted to ask…,” you felt a blush spread over your cheeks. It was now or never, might as well do it like a band aid and rip it off quick.

“Yes?,” he gazed down at you, fingers ceasing their movements as he waited for your words.

You inhaled shakily, hands pulling down your skirt as your voice trembled, “Can I draw you?”

Ten sucked in a breath, eyebrows raised high at your request, “You want to draw,” he gestured to himself, “me?”

You nodded, embarrassed beyond belief as he regarded you with an unreadable expression, “I mean if you don’t want me to or…”

“No,” he interjected, hastily pulling up a chair and sitting directly across from you. “I want you to, ______.”

I want you to, ______. His words echoed through your head as if you were standing in a cavern; each time you heard it, your happiness rose ten fold, but so did your nervousness. You felt jittery, tilting your head in confusion, “Right now?”

“Right now,” Ten grinned, his confidence suddenly returning as he watched your cute surprised expression and the way your cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink.

“Okay then,” you tried to sound as nonchalant as you could, taking out your pens and pulling your sketchbook into your lap. “I guess I’ll start then.”

He grinned, tapping his feet happily, “Do you want me to do a specific expression or pose?” His face grew stern and serious as he placed a fist under his chin, “Perhaps you want my thinking face? Or maybe,” he winked and cupped his face, his voice becoming high pitched and whiny like a child’s, “You want to see my cute face?”

You burst out laughing and he gave a triumphant look, “I knew it.”

You wiped a tear away from your eye, still giggling, “Knew what?”

The way he gazed at you now made the whole world slow down, his dark eyes soft as he murmured, “That you’d be even more beautiful when you laughed.”

Your face heated up, hands shaking as you opened your sketchbook to a fresh page, “Oh.” He smirked, watching as you nervously chewed your lip and tried to change the subject, “Just be normal, have a natural relaxed expression." You felt like you were speaking to yourself more than to him.

Ten shifted in his seat to find a comfortable position, "Alright.” When he was settled he smiled at you, “Ready when you are.”

You nodded, crossing your legs as you bent slightly over your notebook, eyes darting from paper to person as you took in and studied all of Ten’s features. He let you draw in a comfortable silence, only interrupting to give some input as he watched your graceful hand bring the plain white paper to life. 

You took a shallow breath, looking up at him as you asked, “Could you possibly move a little closer? So I can see your eyes better?”

“Sure,” he replied, obediently scooting his chair closer and settling down once again as you continued to draw. During this time, he studied you as well, relishing each moment he got to look directly in your eyes without you looking away and blushing. He noticed small details about you that he hadn’t noticed before, the unique way you held your pen, how you tapped  your toe when you got stuck on a certain line, and even the tempting way you chewed your bottom lip when you were concentrating on something else. He let his eyes wander to the smooth expanse of your pantyhose covered legs that slipped out from under that blessed skirt you wore today. To him, you looked nice every day, but when he saw you in that skirt this morning…let’s just say he was ready to put Johnny in a hospital when he decided to whistle at you. He then grew a little worried that you would freeze just wearing that, and now that he realized it, you still looked cold. 

“Hey,” he interrupted you suddenly, shrugging his jacket off and handing it to you. “Here. I can practically see the goosebumps on your legs through those rights,” he smiled, secretly giving a bittersweet goodbye to your legs for now as you spread his jacket over them.

“Thanks,” you smiled sweetly, enjoying the feeling of him thinking of you before himself and taking care of you. You resumed drawing, head craned over your sketchbook and oblivious to the fact that he was checking you out.

You looked up suddenly, “Almost done, by the way.” You noticed the way his eyes darted up quickly, but he didn’t give any slip of what he’d been staring at.

“Have any suggestions?” You turned the sketchbook towards him, watching with anticipation as he surveyed your work.

“Wow,” he murmured, admiring what you’d done so far. He regarded your drawing for a moment before saying, “Needs more detail though.” He glanced at you, watching as you nodded thoughtfully at his words.

“You’re right,” you looked up up at him through your lashes shyly, “Would you mind moving just a little bit closer though?”

“Not at all,” he smirked, scooting his chair closer, your legs brushing against his as he leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his knees, grinning at you, “This good?”

His face was mere inches from yours as you gulped, “Y-yes." 

A few moments passed, your breath catching as you noticed even the most minute details of his face. A smile line here, a faded freckle there. He was so close you could count his lashes one by one, the urge to reach out and cup his cheek was almost impossible to resist. His tan skin glowed under the strong midday light that filtered in through the window. 

You were pulled out of your reverie as his lips moved hypnotically, "You should add more detail to the lips,” he whispered, leaning in closer so that your foreheads practically brushed together, “Here. Better?”

Your heart pounded, hand stilling as you looked up into his dark eyes, the dark brown rings of his iris reminded you of tree rings and the way his pupil dilated swallowed you whole. They darted down to your lips before holding your gaze again, “Why’d you stop drawing?”

A blush bounced across the tops of your cheeks, the room suddenly feeling hot as you mumbled, “I can’t see the paper anymore.”

“You know what?,” he murmured softly, “You can try to capture all the details through sight alone…but what about through touch?”

Your fingers curled nervously around your pen, hand gripping Ten’s jacket on your lap, time standing still as you whispered back, “Why don’t we find out?”

Ten’s lips parted in surprise at your words, but quickly switched to a small smile, “Well,” he swallowed thickly, “Shall we?”

You nodded, hair brushing against Ten’s bangs as you leaned in toward each other, heart fluttering as his nose bumped into yours. You felt his hands carefully grasp your arms, his eyes flickering up at you once more as if asking for permission. You silently agreed when one of your hands pressed against his knee gently, smoothing over the soft texture of his dark jeans.

His Cupid’s bow lightly brushed yours before he finally pressed his lips against you. The feeling of his lips caressing yours made your heart melt in your chest, body relaxing into his arms as he deepened the kiss. He tasted like the same milk tea you had earlier and caramel coffee, making your eyes flutter close when his hands came up to cup your face. He pulled you closer, making you shift to the edge of your chair, the sketchbook in your lap sliding down to the floor. You ignored the forgotten drawing, dropping your pen carelessly as you slid your hands up Ten’s chest and grabbed his maroon sweater tightly.

Ten softly groaned into the kiss as your small hands tugged him closer, his lips moving more enthusiastically at your encouragement. He pulled away when he noticed your small gasps, realizing you needed a breath. You smiled hazily at him, feeling drunk from his lips as he grinned and placed kisses all over your face, making you giggle, “Ten~”

He pulled away and let his thumb stroke your cheek, eyes full of endearment as he murmured in disbelief, “God, you’re prettier than the beach, the stars…” You let out a small gasp when he dragged you from your chair and settled you in his lap, hands resting on your hips securely. He brought your lips to his again, kissing you senseless as your heart jumped for joy. He just called me pretty, you squealed to yourself, head reeling as you tried to take in everything that was happening at once. You let Ten kiss you as much as he wanted, and he even let you kiss him back, his laugh melodic when you pressed a sweet kiss to the tip of his button nose. 

The beautiful minutes you were sharing with him were cut short when the familiar ring of the bell interrupted the two of you once again. You sighed, fingers playing with his dark hair, “I don’t want to go.”

He looked up at you adoringly as he murmured, “Then don’t. Let’s go somewhere else. Together.”

Your eyes widened in wonder, “I’d like that very much.”

“Perfect,” he said, helping you gather all your things up.

It was an unspoken agreement between the two of you to rush down the stairs like eager children, Ten’s hand holding onto yours securely as you took them two at a time.

Ten pushed the doors to the school open, the cold air blasting you in the face and whipping your hair wildly. He noticed and saw your teeth chattering, “Oh no, where’s your coat, ______?”

You realized it wasn’t on you, looking dumbly down at yourself, “Oh hey, would you look at that." 

He burst out laughing, shrugging his bomber jacket off and handing it to you, your protests silenced as he shushed you, "No way, I’m not letting my girl freeze on our first day together.”

You looked up at him in awe, my girl? He helped you slide the jacket on, your hands disappeared under the sleeves that were too long. It smelled like him, like caramel coffee and ink, a little bit of boy too. He zipped it up to your chin, chuckling at how big it was on you, “Oh my…It looks so cute on you~”

You pouted cutely, but thanked him nevertheless, “Thank you,” you pulled your mittens and scarf from your bag and offered them to him. He looked down at you in surprise, his eyes wide as he took them. He pulled the mittens on, wiggling his fingers underneath the fabric as you bit your lip, “It’s not much, but now neither of us will be cold.”

He smiled sweetly at you, taking your scarf and wrapping it around your neck, pulling it so that your lips met his chastely. You broke the kiss with a giggle, the stray fuzzies on the scarf tickling your nose as he finished wrapping it around you. 

Ten bounced on his toes with a grin, “So…,” he scratched the back of his head nervously, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, “Since we both missed lunch, do you want to go grab something with me? There’s this really nice bubble tea place I go to a lot. I know it’s not the most romantic place, and we should probably be drinking something hot instead of cold-”

“Ten!,” you grinned, stopping his rambling as you took his mittened hand in yours, “Yes.”

He looked down at your joined hands, a small smile on his lips, “Okay.”

“Take me away, my handsome abductor,” you said dramatically, pulling him along down the autumn path, the chill no longer gripping you as he teased in a sing song voice, “You called me handsome~”

You shushed him, allowing him to take you away from school, God knows where. You didn’t care though, as long as it was with him, “Lead the way.”

Golden

Wolfstar for “You’re too young to hate the world”

requested by @mrncwton

Pairing: Remus/Sirius

Word count: 2241

Warnings: Angst, a bit of kissing (idk if kissing needs a warning, but better safe than sorry), slight canon divergence* 

* The incident with Sirius trying to get Snape to enter the Whomping Willow is said to have found place early into their Hogwarts years. In this fic, it happens during their sixth year, sometime right before ¾ marauders become animagi, which I also moved forth a year. Sorry about this to those who prefer things to stick to canon 100%.

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Hoseok: Emergency Personnel Meeting

Genre: AU, fluff, business man Hobi (feat. Namjin)

Summary: A mandatory company meeting gets spicy when someone shows up late.

Originally posted by syubbed

There are three words that every employee dreads. Three words that turn the stomach of every person no matter their position, pay-grade, or prestige. Three words that make you groan as soon as you open the email titled “Monthly Memo.”

Personnel Performance Review.

Beneath the big, bold, Copperplate fonted title is the expected mandatory public relations bullshit.

“Dear valued employee,

It has recently come to my attention that… etc etc… there has been a trend of decreasing sales, profit, employee satisfaction, and other important statistical figures… etc etc… so this Saturday, I will be hosting a mandatory workshop… etc-”

Wait. Saturday?

He wants you to come in on a Saturday? If you’d thought Kim Namjoon couldn’t be any more of an asshole than he already was, you were wrong.

The man couldn’t even use an autofill application to input individual names? No, he had to use a general “Dear employee.”

You huff, closing the email and opting to forget about it for the next few days. At least you’ll be getting overtime and hopefully they’ll buy those ridiculously good donuts that they served last time…


“A veggie plate?” you lament as you stare at the refreshment table.

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As You’re Told

Relationships: Castiel x Reader
Rating: Smut
Warnings: Dom/sub, bdsm

~2600 words

Summary: You start dating Castiel, a famous physicist, when you get hired at the same university as him. A few months into the relationship, you explore dom/sub dynamics within your sex lives.

Read it on ao3

Chapter ONE

You’ve been reading the same three lines for at least three minutes when your phone chimes. You read the short paragraph one more time, hoping the words will magically hold meaning, then give in and reach for your phone.

Come over

You sigh. If only.

Can’t. Still got a stack of papers to grade.

That’s what tomorrow’s for.

You’re a bad influence

You’re a bad habit

And then, before you get a chance to reply: Come over. I wanna sex you up. Also, I made cannoli.

You sigh again, switching between glaring at the pile of assignments in front of you and looking wistfully at your phone. You keep it up long enough that the screen darkens. When it lights up again it’s to reveal a picture of Castiel and the words Prof. Novak (Black Hole Thermodynamics). You roll your eyes at the ringtone that accompanies it. Don’t Stand So Close To Me by The Police.

Cas thought he was funny when he replaced the default tune on your third date. That was months ago and you still threaten to change it back but never do. You should also probably change his name in your phone to something a little more familiar, too. You aren’t likely to forget which class he teaches anymore anyway.

“Hey,” You say.

“Hey. How long ‘til you get here?” You hear a smacking sound and you know he’s licking his fingers clean, probably of powdered sugar.

You grunt. You want to lick his fingers clean of, possibly, powdered sugar. “You make a compelling pitch. You sure your true calling isn’t sales?”

He laughs at that. He always laughs at your dumb jokes. “It’s just because I know my target clientele.”

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Trickster TV

gif is not mine

Title: Trickster TV

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Characters: Gabriel, Dean, Sam

Word Count: 1,419

Warnings: fluff

A/N: This was requested by @hair-dye-or-nawh:

   Maybe you can do a Gabriel one-shot where the reader gets trapped in TV land with Sam and Dean and he’s super flirty and you can put them in current TV shows. That’d be really cool c:


I thought this would be great for Sweet Treat Saturday! I liked writing this fic! So I hope you all love it! <3 Feedback is welcomed and appreciated C: (btw sorry this was posted so late, unexpected things came up, but it’s all good!)

When Sam and Dean told you about the Trickster, you never expected to actually meet him.  Today was your lucky day.  You followed Sam and Dean into the building.  As soon as the door shut behind you it was like you were in a whole new world.  You were dressed as a nurse; Dean and Sam were dressed as doctors.  

Dean and Sam turned around to face you.  Their reaction to you dressed as a nurse made you roll your eyes.  “Stop the staring you two,” you muttered, brushing past them.

As you walked through the hall, things got even more weird.  Sam was slapped in the face by some woman none of you knew.  “We’re in the show Dr. Sexy M.D.,” Dean informed you and Sam.

“Personally I prefer game shows, but if this is what you’re into,” you snorted, looking down the hall.

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Tugging On Heartstrings

Crowley imagine with a prompt from roxy-davenport’s/Lexie Carver’s Adult SPN Writing Challenge! I selected the prompt “Don’t you dare harm one hair on her head. Just bring me the information I need.” Because, let’s be honest, we all need a little drama in our lives. Thank you so much for tag and the formal invitation! Hope you like it!

It was an unlikely course of events, that much was certain, but you couldn’t help but succumb to your darkest, most sinister doubts that everything you were experiencing had been on the warpath with sights on you since the moment you laid eyes on the King of Hell. You hadn’t expected him to be so… well, kind wasn’t the most accurate adjective to attach to the man who slaughtered his followers on a whim (and with as nonchalant a sentencing as a snap of his fingers), but kind mannered could suffice under the circumstances the two of you had met. You’d been on equal terms, then; he was situated within a devil’s trap, locked away behind a row of gleaming metal filing cabinets, his nose bloodied from one of the Winchester brother’s “interrogations,” his trademark smirk plastered in place at the sight of what he referred to as “a darling new addition to the family.” Lucky for him, your interrogation tactics were a whole lot less violent (equally invasive, but still), leaving him without further injury to anything save his dignity. He had warned you then, while you wiped the drying blood from his chin with a wrinkled handkerchief, that he would be freed and spare your companions no mercy. You offered a grin, asking calmly to be spared from the Hellfire his wrath would surely invoke.

“Don’t be so comfortable, love,” he replied, his eyes glimmering on yours, mischief animating his features. “You’re very sweet to clean me up like this, but I don’t want you thinking a simple act of courtesy exempts you from the punishment you deserve.” Your hand fell, your guard erecting itself where your simple act of human kindness had extended, your face falling noticeably. Crowley seemed to backtrack, his hands twitching where they were cuffed, fighting the chains as if to reach out and comfort you, fingers dragging his words through the air until they became murky and illegible. “I only meant… listen, darling, you’re a real dove, truly, but your association with the Winchesters signs your death certificate. And don’t think they won’t be back to bloody me up come morning. I’m a living, breathing punching bag to them, and you might like to clean their messes and offer your sunshine routine, but at the end of the day… I’m a demon, and you’re a hunter. We don’t mix. You run with a pack of very large animals who specialize in hunting top-grade demons, and I myself am one of, if not the highest caliber Hell-spawn I can think of. So sorry you had to hear this in this way, but it comes down to if I don’t kill you, they will, or something going for their throats will, and I can assure you my way is a lot cleaner than bleeding out on the end of your own machete.” He settled back into his makeshift throne, his brows raised as if to emphasize and punctuate his statement. “We’ll stay like this, with you watching over me, or we’ll end in the opposite, with you in one of the finer cages I’ve furnished in Hell. It’s the very least I can offer you for not swinging at me while I spoke.” You snorted, taking a step backward, your body moving with the confidence of someone who hadn’t just had the details of her death handed to her on a silver platter, topped with a cherry and a promise of eternal suffering in a very swanky plot of Hell.

“Let me get this straight: boo! I’m Crowley. Fiercest multimillionaire demon in your custody. Fear me, you’ll die by my hand, just kidding, the Winchesters will be your downfall, but at the end of the day, I’ll lock you up in Hell’s penthouse suite?” You rolled your eyes at his lack of consistency. You were told he was a talker, and manipulative too, but his story really suffered under pressure. He must have been frightened by his predicament, locked away where none of his highly disposable henchmen could orchestrate his release. “To be honest, I could use the upgrade. This place gets a bit musty after a while, the whole fifties vibe is a little stale. I’d kill for some reliable internet, you know? And memory foam? Can you hook me up with a Tempurpedic when you inevitably enslave me?” His eyes lowered to the concrete at his feet, but he couldn’t manage to cloak the smile spreading across his lips, lifting the corners of his mouth. He shook his head, exhaling in mock-awe.

“I all but promise you your own murder and prime acreage in the Happiest Place on Earth and you respond with humour?” He paused, biting his lower lip, his eyes on your face. His expression was open, unguarded. For a moment, you felt the silence amplify the loneliness of the bunker’s hidden cell; it was just you and Crowley, and it was oddly peaceful. “Either you’re exceptionally jaded… or you truly are something else.” He smiled freely now, his eyes squinting in your direction as he raised his shackled hands, one of which pointed at your chest. “You know, they warned me about you. Word travels quickly with demons, the bloody gossips, and I heard your name bleed into conversations quite often. Y/n’s slaughtered a nest of vampires, Y/n’s vanquished a group of demons…. but nobody knew where you’d managed to find an angel blade until word got around that, yes, Y/n’s killed a rogue angel by the name of… what was it? Rebecca? When my little birdies told me you were throwing your lot in with the Winchesters, I planned and replanned your death a thousand times. You were already a disaster on wheels, and I didn’t need you joining the two most obnoxiously stubborn hunters the world’s ever seen. Having known you now, however, I’m inclined to… alter my schedule. Let’s not and say we did, hm? What’s one missed meeting?”

“I imagine you have quite a few of those, being the King and all that,” you joked, watching him tip his head in agreement, his lips twisted in a smirk of approval. “I doubt anyone would notice if you marked that one off the calendar.”

“No, I doubt they would. Idiots, the whole lot of them. Takes every ounce of patience in my borrowed body to keep them all alive. Speaking with you is a nice change of pace.” You glanced down at your wristwatch, slyly checking how long you’d been interrogating the King of Hell, absentmindedly wondering what would happen if Sam or Dean strolled in on your casual conversation with their highly dangerous and homicidal hostage. When you refocused your gaze, Crowley was grimacing slightly, his eyes on your watch. You supposed it was silly of yourself to imagine the demon wouldn’t be watching your every move, what with you being his newly-assigned torturer as well as his only form of entertainment. He sighed, his breathe rumbling in his chest, his shoulders relaxing. “I don’t suppose you’ll be back tomorrow?” he asked coyly, calmly, as if discussing the weather, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they locked with yours. “I much prefer your tactics to the Winchesters’. Those boys do not know how to play nice. You, however, do not live up to your reputation of cold-blooded killer. If I weren’t at your mercy, love, I’d be a bit disappointed in you.” You chuckled, working your way to your feet, sliding from your perch atop the weapons table, your hand on the blade of a machete.

“Ha ha bloody ha. Don’t tempt me, or you’ll be seeing my smiling face through a film of your own blood bright and early,” you threatened, your voice lacking the necessary grit to match your gruesome promise, your tone lighthearted instead. Crowley grinned merrily, wiggling in his chair, his chains jingling as he shifted in his seat.

“It’s a date,” he smirked, watching your eyes roll as you returned your weapon of choice to its designated slot on the pegboard arsenal hanging above the table. You shut the doors on the King of Hell, watching his smile fade to his usual confident composure as you disappeared from sight. Keeping with your word, you returned the next morning, and the morning after that, slowly working your way to the well-deserved title of Crowley’s personal torturer, although your torture methods were lacking in bloodshed and physical pain. Mostly, you spoke, got beneath his skin, listened to his countless tales of destruction, taking mental notes whenever his stories seeped into categories you were involved with, listening to him carelessly release details you could later use to benefit your hunts. you began to feel… unclean, stealing information under the veil of friendship, proving your own sneaking suspicion that your facade was becoming a reality. You looked forward to your meetings with Crowley, oftentimes taking your meals in his chambers or skipping them altogether to rush your way to the dungeon, your heart racing in your chest at the thought of another day lost in conversation. You were developing a relationship that had no hope of success, regardless of its extent, and that couldn’t continue for both of your sakes. From what you heard, Crowley’s demons talked far too much for anyone’s good, and the rumors that would no doubt circulate of their very own king frolicking about with a well-known hunter would sign your death certificate… and you didn’t want to think of what they’d do to Crowley for leaking information to the enemy. He was in the middle of a sentence, recounting one of his past encounters with the Winchesters while searching for a tablet, when you held your hand up to stop his speech, your eyes closed, head shaking slowly.

“Crowley, don’t tell me about it. You’re going to tell me more than you want to and I’ll have information about you that will inevitably cause you harm.” You paused, opening your eyes to a shocked and startled Crowley, his mouth open still. “You can’t keep telling me things someone can torture out of me, things I’ll have to tell Sam and Dean. It’s not good for you, alright? And it’ll end up killing you, so… just stop.” The room was thick with silence, then, save for the quiet sigh Crowley emitted. Your pulse was loud in your ears, waiting for his return, for some snide remark about how you’d been passing his information on, about how he was just trying to pass the time, anything… but what he responded with was far more dangerous than a raging tirade.

“I’m only going to say this once, love, so I need you to listen to me.” You raised your gaze, meeting his shockingly serious eyes, his facial expression one of absolute focus. “My demons are coming for me. Tonight. I’ve been communicating with them, negotiating my escape, for the past week. All the blood your Winchesters are spilling is a means of communication between me and Hell. You need to get out of this bunker, do you hear me?” You started to interrupt him with one of the thousand questions swirling about your mind, but he held up his finger to silence you, his chains jolting through the silence. “You need to be gone. You and the sentient trees you roam around with. If you leave, no harm will come to you. You have my word.” Luckily, the Winchesters were out for the day, tracking some unimportant, yet immensely destructive, siren. You were alone with the King of Hell, and you were about to be acquainted with his demonic army.

“Crowley, I don’t-” you began, watching the demon’s eyes flicker to the roof, his expression falling to a mask of terror and dread. You followed his eyes, listening to the quiet that echoed throughout the bunker. Despite the quiet your pulse quickened, your fingertips aflame with tingling sparks. Something was happening.

“No, the bloody idiots.” He lowered his eyes, alight with fear, to your face. “They’re here.” You froze atop the table, your eyes wide on his. How had they managed to bypass the warding? He grit his teeth, his eyes flashing from your face to the ceiling, dropping back with a tangible fervor. “Go!” You leapt from the table, turning to the filing cabinets, your hands prying the concealed doors apart, bolting into the library, your feet sliding on the hardwood as you turned for the door, stumbling to a stop to avoid colliding into the chest of a particularly muscular stranger, his eyes black as pitch as his arms wound around your torso. With a single squeeze and a few blotches blacking-out your vision, you were unconscious.

When you woke, you were being dragged through unfamiliar halls, hands gripping your biceps with unnecessary tightness, your head lolling against your chest, your knees sliding against the polished flooring. From Crowley’s many descriptions, this had to be his newly renovated Hell, complete with marble tiles and tasteful sconces. You lifted your head, watching as room after room passed you by, some with hands outstretched for help, countless cries echoing about the corridor. One cry lifted over them all, carried on a different tenor, not one of agony or of fright, but one of authority.

“Just where do you think you’re taking her?” Called the voice, shoes clicking against the marble underfoot. Your guards turned, one of them dropping your arm, your cheek striking the stone below as your support was abandoned. The demon who hadn’t abandoned his hold now twisted you in his grasp, taking hold of your available arm, turning you to face Crowley as he addressed his henchmen. “I gave you an order, do you remember what it was? Something along the lines of leave the bloody girl alone. Ring any bells?” The demon lifted you from the floor, wrenching your arms behind your back, holding you like a shield, or perhaps a trophy, before him, your body tight to his chest. Crowley flinched, watching as you hissed, your shoulders screaming at the tension your captor created.

“She has information on the Winchesters. They weren’t with her when we came for you, but she has to know where they are. she’ll know their upcoming attacks, who they’re in contact with… she’s an encyclopedia, ripe for the taking. She’s in the network of hunters, your Highness. She could give us tens of hundreds of names, and we can pick them all off like flies.” Crowley’s eyes locked on yours for a brief moment, and you couldn’t tell if he was contemplating allowing your torture or demanding your release. Your heart tightened within your chest, every artery and vein frozen as your constricted heart fought for each beat. Your heart jilted in your chest, your ragged breathing made uncomfortable by the position you were being held. Crowley was prompted to answer with a quiet “Your Highness?,” his face composing itself into a strictly businesslike mask of unfeeling stone.

“You can question her. No torture, Silas, or I’ll have your heart halfway across the room,” he paused, waving his hand for you to be carted off, the demon known as Silas dragging you behind him as he walked, your second guard holding tight to one of your arms once more, leaving you to stare Crowley down as the distance between you grew. Apologies swam in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists at his side. As a final plea for your safety, he called out to you, his voice shaking slightly. “Don’t you dare harm one hair on her head. Just bring me the information I need.” You rounded the corner and were gone, a final image of Crowley’s tortured expression burnt into your mind.

anonymous asked:

OH MY GOSH. Please please would you write this for sterek....i’m a prince/ss and you’re my bodyguard and we’re so not supposed to bang but we kind of did anyways” au (bonus: limo sex is great sex)

okay okay okay SO. i wrote this prompt today, in like this huge rush of wow omg i am inspired. and then i realised as i looked over it just that i wrote “i’m a prince/ss and you’re my bodyguard and we’re not supposed to fall in love. kinda of thing. so i apologise but there is no limo sex. i kept trying to bring it around once i realised, but like, this just went in another direction. sorry. (i can write it? if you know, people so desire? could totes do like a part two?) but anyway here’s 9k of not limo!sex but bodyguard in love with a prince and bickering and affection ensues. just a heads up.

*

“Stiles, come on, we’re going to be late!” Derek glances at his watch again, looks towards the open door of the palace where Erica is leaning against the frame looking bored. “At least try and look like you’re a professional,” he hisses to her.

Erica rolls her eyes, but straightens up, sliding on her shades as she does, “You know he hates it when we stand on ceremony.”

“It’s not your job to pander to his every whim; it’s your job to protect him.”

“Hey!” Stiles appears from the front drawing room, dressed to the nines and adjusting his shirt cuffs. “I heard that, and it is an absolute lie. You are definitely here to pander to my every whim and desire.” He smirks as he gives Derek a once over (one that Derek refuses to let bother him), “And, you’re doing a fine job in that suit, I must say.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “Get in the car.”

“Is that any way to talk to your prince regent? The national treasure?”

Please, get in the car, your highness,” Derek adds, narrowing his eyes, “Better?”

“I can think of about fifty ways you could make it better,” Stiles leers at him, “Maybe if you took off your—”

“Alright,” Derek interrupts, places a firm hand on Stiles’ back and tries not to forcibly push him out of the front door.

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Going Ghost

I’m sure someone’s already done this, but I haven’t seen it, so humor me? I modified the timeline to fit my own interests. Had an idea last night and wrote this super messy and unedited drabble.

You’re fourteen and you’ve just survived your first ghost attack. Not just survived— won! Ever since the accident you’ve been off kilter, but for the first time you feel like you’ve found your purpose. It’s like stepping outside on a brisk winter morning. Crisp. Crystalline.

You lock away the Lunch Lady in the Fenton Thermos, find that fiery warmth that pulses somewhere behind your stomach, and change back. It only takes a faint pull. The trigger is sensitive and touchy. Going human is like running downhill compared to going ghost. A wave of relief and exhaustion batters you. The edges of your vision darken. You shake your head sharply in an attempt to shake away dizziness.

Yesterday you found out the cost of these new powers after fainting. They drain you, and the longer you stay ghost the more exhausted you get when you change back, but, you’re pretty sure that with practice it will get better in time.

Sam and Tucker notice your wobbly knees and hook their arms in yours, grabbing you by the armpits. Together you watch your parents stampede away from the school. Their Fenton Finder chirp chirp chirps.

“So you’re not gonna tell them?” Tucker asks.

“Nah,” you say. “I finally think I understand what these powers are for.”

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anonymous asked:

omg do the ziam fic

Single dad Liam takes his new neighbor, Zayn, into his house for a couple of weeks while Zayn’s house is being renovated. The two aren’t even dating, but with little sleepless James to deal with, they might as well be raising him together.

Based on this prompt: (x) (also found on ao3 under the same username)

Pausing for a moment, his fist only inches from the stained mahogany, Zayn bit the edge of his lower lip as he once again felt the need to ponder his decision to knock on this door. Maybe it was the perfectly trimmed hedges that did it for him, maybe the slight smell of a Crockpot dinner wafting underneath the crack in the front door. Maybe it was the fact that he could just barely make out music coming from inside. But this house felt right.

Breathing out, he finally allowed himself to bridge the gap between his hand and the wood. Having already practiced what he was going to say at least fifty times, he shouldn’t have been nervous. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel his heart racing, though, as the sound of footprints–accompanied by the sound of singing–came closer and closer. The door swung open, Zayn only able to catch the belting of “–Y wonderwall” before the singer, a shirtless, blonde man, abruptly closed his wide-open mouth. Zayn’s eyes immediately scrolled down, noting his abs but catching on his happy trail.

“Sorry,” the man stammered, his face flushing. “I’m expecting a friend to drop by, and so, I just assumed, you know…” A gulp caught in his throat as he looked down his own body, realizing his attire was also potentially not appropriate for a fellow he’d never met before. “Anyway…” he finished, rubbing his hands along his thighs. A smile grew on his lips, crinkles forming by his eyes as he did so. The sight infectiously forced Zayn to smile back, his initial worry replaced by a feeling of curiosity. “I’m Liam.” He stuck out his hand, very proper like. Zayn smirked, but took his hand anyway. “You must be the new neighbor, right?”

Zayn nodded, gulping as he tried to find the right words when all he could seem to focus on was the wall of abs in front of him. “Yeah, I’m Zayn.” Taking a breath in, he forced himself to bring his eyes up to Liam’s face as he clarified, “But that’s actually kinda why I’m here, mate. My house is gonna get renovated for a couple of weeks cause it’s really not livable right now. Mold and stuff, you know.” With a flick of his wrist, he continued on. “And I’m an artist, and don’t really have a lot of money…” He scratched his head, not able to keep his eyes on Liam’s. The thought of having to ask such a favor hurt Zayn immensely. “But I was wondering if you maybe had an extra bedroom I could rent just for a bit?”

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Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animal

Originally posted by heartsnmagic

Pairing: past Sam x Jess, Sam x Reader
Word count: 3,367

Part 15 of Chocolate Cupcakes


After Halloween, it seemed like time was racing by, not only getting closer to the holidays but the twins birthday was coming up at the beginning of December. You were starting to feel cranky because of the cast, so thankfully a week before Thanksgiving, the doctor finally put your leg in a walking cast.

It felt so good to walk out of his office that you almost danced instead. “This feels great!” You exclaimed. “Now I can help your mother with Thanksgiving dinner and I can play with the kids more, and more importantly, I can play with you again.” You pulled Sam by his tie closer so you could wrap your hands behind his head and kiss him.


His hands moved to your hips and he held you tight. “Oh, I plan on playing…” Sam smirked, the two of you having decided to stick to making out and such. Sex hadn’t been on the table since you left the hospital. Most nights you just wanted him close by. You were getting a bit antsy.

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3 (Narry Oneshot)

In which you discover that both Niall and Harry really like you, and why choose one when you can have both?

A/N: so there was a rather vague request for Harry to find you in a bar with Niall and to be upset because he likes you, and somehow it turned into this. anon, if you’re reading this, I hope this is to your liking! xx

You’ve been in this position before, perched on a barstool next to Niall and halfway to drunk, but the air feels different tonight. The way Niall’s eyes land on you feels different.

It isn’t that you never thought of him in that way, in fact you have done so more times than you’d like to count; Niall is fun and funny and sweet in his goofy, down to earth way, and it would have been very difficult to know him as long as you have and not occasionally thought of being kissed or felt up by him. But did you ever think something would actually happen? Of course not. He’s a co worker, a friend, an occasional drinking buddy, not a potential lover. It would make things weird.

And you had seen the girls he went out with, the ones he had his arm around when leaving a club or giving a goodbye kiss before breezing into work, and you couldn’t easily place yourself in that group.

No, things were much more comfortable, much more reasonable, as they were, with you and Niall yelling at the sports match on the tv and laughing at juvenile jokes.

So why was he looking at you like that?

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Terrible Things Part 3

Imagine saving Sam and Dean on a hunt.

Author: hogwartsismyhometoo 

Word Count: 3,540

Read Part (1) (2)


Dean

“Hi,” Sam said, taking the initiative. Dean was a little surprised—he usually started conversations with the locals—but then again, he wasn’t. Sam had always gotten excited when he entered a library. The mere site of books was enough to brighten his day. Where Dean was more comfortable in a bar or a diner—his thoughts wandered to Y/N for the third time that morning—this was Sam’s element.

The librarian—a red-haired girl with horn-rimmed glasses and a nametag that read “Brittany”—smiled at Sam. “Hey. Can I help you?”

“If you can show us where the newspapers are,” Sam said.

Brittany laughed a little before realizing that Sam wasn’t joking. “Really?” She said. “You wouldn’t rather use the computers? They’re free to the public, you know.”

“The newspapers are fine,” Sam insisted. “But thanks.”

Brittany shook her head, but said, “All right, if you’re sure. You can follow me.”

She led them through a twisting maze of bookshelves and reading nooks, Sam’s eyes widening with each step they took. Dean smirked at his little brother, suddenly stricken by how young he looked in that moment. It was a nice change from the usual determined, serious scowl he wore during hunts.

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Friendly Fire

Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, the Howling Commandos

A question of strength and stamina is out of Steve’s hands when Peggy gets involved.

Headcanon regarding Howard’s throwaway line about Peggy’s 107 one-armed pushups.

“Oh please, I could take a little punk like you with one hand tied behind my back.”

“In a fight, sure, no contest, I’m dead, I’ve seen what happens to the little guy in a mismatch,” Bucky told Dugan, casting a meaningful look at Steve.  “Once upon a time, before Cinderella here met his godmother. But when it comes to actual stamina, the ability to hold out, let’s face it, you’re a one shot wonder.”

“You know, Barnes,” Dugan said, pausing to empty his stein and slam it on the table.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that sounded like a challenge.”

“Alright, guys, settle down,” Steve sighed, grabbing his own mug wearily.  “We don’t need to go there.”

“Easy for you to say, Captain America, with your biceps of patriotism,” Bucky snorted.  “And anyway, it’s just a…friendly competition, right Dugan?”

“Stamina is never something I’ve had complaints about either, Barnes,” Dugan argued mildly, winking at the barmaid as she brought him another beer.

“So then there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Bucky countered, and Steve rolled his eyes.  When he caught sight of Peggy sauntering closer with an arched eyebrow, he immediately sat up straighter, a movement that wasn’t lost on his friends.

“Well, well, well,” Bucky said, glancing up at Peggy.  “Look who’s decided to grace us with her lovely presence.”

“Does that charm usually work for you, Sergeant Barnes?” she asked, signaling for her own drink.

“Usually, yeah,” Bucky said, watching Peggy draw up a chair next to Steve.  “But even I know some competitions aren’t worth it.  So what do you say, Dugan?”

“Ah, come on,” Dugan complained.  “No one is going to come away from that well.  You’ve got to deal with being beat, and I’ve got to deal with beating Captain America’s best friend.”

“You’re very confident, Corporal Dugan,” Peggy observed.  “Dare I ask what the competition in question entails?”

“Please don’t encourage them,” Steve moaned as his friends grinned at each other.

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Psyche

Happy Halloween!

“I hate Halloween!” Beckett growled as Castle dragged her through Spirit, one of the many costume stores that just seem to pop up around this time of year. They were on the women’s side now, as Castle thought it wise to pick a costume that she would actually approve of, before he found his own.

“Nobody hates Halloween,” he scoffed as he reached for one of the nearby dresses on a hook. “How about a slutty nurse?” The force of Beckett’s glare nearly gave him a headache. He put the costume back. “No nurse,” he murmured. “What about a slutty cop then?”

“I’m already a cop,” Beckett growled.

“Are you calling yourself slutty?” Castle asked with a grin. Beckett growled—actually, truly growled at him—and he put it back. “Werewolf?”

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