i know you never never loved the sound of your voice on tape

Podcast Recs

I was already making this for @dauphinedolphin (whom I’ve successfully dragged into podcast hell alongside me) so I figured I would just post it here for anyone else who might be interested! 

Note: these are just the podcasts that I’m interested in. Not everyone will enjoy them and there are many many MANY more out there that I haven’t listened to yet that are absolutely amazing. I’ve only been listening to podcasts since about October, so I haven’t listened to many yet. Also I have a significant preference towards audio dramas because I find them easier to focus on. 

All these shows can be listened to for free on iTunes. 

* = personal fave 

The Bridge******** - I literally cannot recommend The Bridge enough. It is INCREDIBLE. They excel at everything from sound editing to incredible writing to incredible voice actors and I just love it. so. fucking. much. It’s so good. And you should go listen to it right now. It’s about the crew of Watchtower 10 out on the Transcontinental Bridge, which spans the length of the Atlantic Ocean. It features spooky stories, eldritch monsters, a possessed doll and my favourite character of all time, so it’s basically the best. I’ll probably be making a separate recommendation post for it soon because there’s too much to say. 

Welcome to Night Vale - I know, I know, Night Vale Presents podcasts are on every single list and everyone’s sick of hearing about them, but seriously folks. They’re popular because they’re good. If you haven’t heard of Welcome to Night Vale before, it’s a radio show set in the fictional town of Night Vale where all sorts of weird stuff happens. 

The Orbiting Human Circus (Of the Air)* - The only other Night Vale Presents podcast that I’m gonna put on here. It follows Julian, a janitor at the Eiffel Tower who dreams of becoming a famous radio host. 

Wolf 359*** - This show. This fucking show. It’s so good y’all. If you like shows that start off kind of funny and not-so-serious before doing a complete 180 and becoming the most HEART-WRENCHING ANGST EVER then you will love it. Also kudos to them for having the best team of antagonists ever. It’s all about Doug Eiffel, the Communications Officer onboard the Hephaestus Station who finds mysterious radio signals out in deep space. But not everything is what it seems, nor is anyone who they seem… 

Wooden Overcoats - It’s all about rival funeral home directors on the small British island of Piffling. It has a lot of dark humour so if that’s your jam you should totally check it out. 

The Bright Sessions** - This is another show that’s just… so amazing. It’s about this group of humans called atypicals, who are basically superheroes (only they don’t fight crime and they have to hide their abilities from the general public). The show follows a time traveller, an empath, and a mind reader, with more atypicals popping up as the show progresses. It’s another one of those shows that gets darker as it goes, but the plot’s very character driven so you also get a TON of great character development. 

EOS 10* - Apparently the best way to describe this is “Scrubs in space”? But yeah, it’s basically a hospital drama set on the space station EOS 10. The main lead’s a recovering addict and that part of his backstory’s never ignored or glossed over, which is amazing. Also it’s my #1 feel good show sooooo…. 

The Deep Vault* - It’s the end of the world and a group of four people seek asylum in an underground vault created to help humanity survive the apocalypse. But is it really as safe as they thought? 

Archive 81 - Made by the same people who did The Deep Vault. Daniel Powell has a new job working as an archivist at Archive 81. The tapes he listens to seem to be telling a story that he’s not sure he wants to hear but knows he has to. Season two’s a little weird but season one really holds up. 

The Once and Future Nerd** - Three kids from Pennsylvania end up in a fantasy world and soon get caught up in the conspiracies and dangers that are threatening to pull it apart. This one’s got a lot of really great social commentary, particularly of fantasy tropes. 

The Strange Case of Starship Iris* - Violet Liu is the sole survivor of a shuttle explosion, but her ship is going down fast. She’s going to need whatever help she can get to make it out of this alive. Featuring the best alien you will ever meet, government conspiracies, and cases of mistaken identity that might just get you killed. 

The Far Meridian - This one’s pretty new but it’s already shaping up to be absolutely amazing. It’s all about a woman named Peri who wakes up to find that her lighthouse has mysteriously moved locations. Peri’s also agoraphobic but it’s never treated like something weird or used as a joke, which is sooo refreshing to hear. 

Bonus non-fiction podcasts: 

The Podcast History Of Our World - Exactly what it says on the tin. Each episode examines a different part of history, with the end goal of studying every single part of history. Currently somewhere in the Roman Republic.

My Brother, My Brother, And Me - Yeah so I’m slowly being dragged into McElroy brother hell… This is another one that makes basically every single list (or at least one McElroy podcast does) but for good reason. It’s really really good and really really funny. The McElroys run an advice show but their advice is not meant to be taken seriously. In fact, you really shouldn’t take their advice. 

dean/cas fic: nothing else matters (1.2k)

nothing else matters; 1.2k, coda for 13x01, dean is a sad bean

[AO3]

“We lost everything,” Dean snarls. His pulse is thundering underneath his jaw. “And now you’re gonna bring him back. You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back Mom, you’re gonna bring ‘em all back – all of 'em. Even Crowley.

”'Cause after everything you’ve done… you owe us, you sonofabitch. So you get your ass down here, and you make this right. Right here. Right now.“

Dean sucks in a breath. He pauses for a second, but nothing happens – no thunderbolt, no flash of light, no voice in the distance. Swallowing hard, he glances at the sky, then turns and looks out across the lake. The water is pale blue and rippling softly. Dean sucks in another breath, and another. The stench from the restaurant’s dumpster crowds into his nose - rotting food and grease.

He slams his fist into the smiling pirate cut-out on the wall, again and again and again – until his knuckles split open and the wood splinters and snaps in half. He hurls the pieces over his shoulder and chokes down a thick, desperate noise. He wants – fuck. Fuck.

"Please.”

Keep reading

“Cas! Cas! Don’t do this to me, Cas.”

Dean kneels in the dirt next to Cas’s inert body, the rough fabric of the trenchcoat gripped tightly in his fists. It’s been minutes–hours?–since they came through from the other universe, since Cas… Dean doesn’t know when he started crying, but his face is wet with tears and his throat is raw from sobbing and pleading with Cas.

“Open your eyes, Cas. You cannot leave me. Not again. Open your eyes. Open your eyes. Open your eyes…”

He is still whispering the words, his voice nearly gone, when Sam pulls him away.

***

“Cas.”

It’s been over a week since they burned Cas’s body. Dean’s mind won’t let him sleep; he still sees the flames every time he closes his eyes. He feels the heat licking at his skin, cracking his lips. Now he sits on the cement floor of the parking garage; it’s the coolest place he can find.

“Where are you, Cas? Can you hear me anymore? Is it hot where you are? Is it cold? Where do angels go when they…”

There are tears on his cheeks again.

The barest whisper: “I miss you, Cas.”

***

On a hunt, a werewolf pack closing in.

“Cas! We could use your help!”

Sam jerks in surprise, barely escapes a snapping jaw.

The fight is brutal. Dean has a gash on his arm, Sam a badly bruised rib, but all the werewolves are dead. They make their way back to the Impala, Dean muttering, “Where are you, Cas?”

“Dean,” Sam says softly, “Cas is–”

Dean’s glare stops him cold.

***

Dark fields fly past outside Baby’s windows, and the sky above is a flood of stars. Dean is blind to all but the road and the steering wheel.

Led Zeppelin plays on the radio. Ramble On. This isn’t on the tape he made for…

“This used to be one of my favorite songs, Cas. But it’s all about goodbye, all about looking for something more. That was my life, always saying goodbye. Then we found the bunker, so we kinda had a home. And I thought–I hoped–someday I’d have you too.”

The song had ended while he was praying. The Impala’s engine and her wheels on the road are the only sounds until Dean’s gasping sobs fill the car.

He pulls over to the side of the road.

Cas.” Dean chokes on the name. “I wish you could hear me.”

***

It’s been 37 days since Cas…left.

Dean is off on his own again. He hunts with Sam, but between hunts he can’t seem to stay still, just like he can’t seem to close his eyes. So he drives. When he realizes where he is, he makes a sound that is almost a laugh.

Pontiac, Illinois.

He takes a few wrong turns, but eventually finds his way to the barn. It is, surprisingly, still standing. He expects to find the inside littered with beer bottles and the like, but there is nothing. Maybe all the signs and sigils scared off the local miscreants.

Memories wash over Dean in a rush.

Sparks.

Wings.

Stabbings.

I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.

I’m an angel of the Lord.

This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.

Dean falls to his knees, head bowed. Remembering. The awesome sight of Cas’s wings, filling the entire barn. The way his eyes seemed to look into Dean’s very soul. The feeling of being known, and chosen, and wanted.

He aches for Cas, so even he is surprised by the words that tumble from his lips.

“Chuck. I don’t know if you’re listening anymore. The bible says–and yeah, Cas told me to read the bible, so I did–that you’re everywhere at once, so maybe you can still hear me even off on your family vacation.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this. I sound like an idiot. I’ve gotten used to praying to Cas, but he can’t hear me anymore. Lucifer, he…” Tears flow from Dean’s eyes.

“I’m broken, Chuck. I can barely stand. You need to give him back to us. We need him. And not because he’s a fighter, or because he’s an angel, or because he’s a part of our team. You need to give him back because…” Dean takes a shuddering breath. “You need to give him back to me. Because I love him. He’s not my brother, he’s…he’s everything.”

His voice is raw, thick with tears.

“I never got to tell him. Please, Chuck. Please. I don’t know what else to say. Can you hear the sound of a heart breaking?”

***

Chuck blinks.

“Well, what do you know. Too bad I’m not writing any more books. I love character development.”

He twirls his finger in the air, and the dust motes form a spinning vortex. Atoms join, coming together to form more and more complex molecules until, with a tiny breath from Chuck, the angel stands in front of him.

Chuck gestures. “Sorry about the tie. Dean seem to like it backwards, though.”

Cas stands bewildered, patting his coat, touching his face, ruffling his hair–deliberately avoiding the place where the blade pierced his chest.

“And the tape is still in your pocket. I know it’s important to you.”

Cas’s hand flies to the inside pocket of his trenchcoat. When his hand closes around the familiar piece of plastic he relaxes slightly.

“I don’t understand,” Cas says. “I was…gone. Again.”

Chuck points at himself. “Did you forget who I am? Or how many times I’ve done this for you?”

Cas’s thoughts still haven’t caught up to the present. “But why?”

“Character development.”

Cas tilts his head, puzzled. “I don’t–”

“Nevermind,” Chuck says, chuckling to himself. “I just need you to deliver a message to Dean Winchester, okay?”

Cas nods, eyes bright. “Alright.”

“Tell him…tell him…no, on second thought, just go. I think he’ll understand. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that.”

Cas nods again, still not understanding, but willing to go. Chuck reaches out, gently rests his hands on Cas’s shoulders.

“One more thing,” he says. “It was never a punishment, Castiel.”

Cas’s eyes widen.

“You always believe in me. I keep bringing you back because I always believe in you too.”

***

Boards creak. Feathers rustle.

Dean’s head jerks up.

“Dean, why are we here?”

Dean cannot speak. He pulls himself to his feet, his eyes never leaving Cas’s. He walks to Cas, and when they are standing close enough to touch Cas says, “What about personal space, Dean?”

“Are you real, Cas?” Dean breathes. “Are you really you?”

Understanding, Cas flexes his wings. Blue-black feathers flash. No demon or shapeshifter could fake that.

“Good,” says Dean. “Oh, Cas. I–”

But there are no words. He pulls Cas into a hug, holding him like he never wants to let go.

“Thank you, Chuck,” Dean whispers. “Thank you.”

Please Don’t Go

Originally posted by babyangelmichael

A/N: Uh I was listening to some throwback music again and this is kinda based around a Boyz II Men’s song

Warning: Contains Sexual Content & Mentions of Alcoholism. View At Your Own Risk!!!

     Ashton sat alone in the dark. Curtains drawn to block out the early morning light. He was resting into the sofa and his hand clutched a bottle of vodka with a strong grip. His jaw clenched and he brought the bottle up to his lips and took a sip of the alcohol. Ashton’s eyes were dilated and clouded over as if he was stuck in a trance. They stayed locked on the moving boxes the sat near the front door. The moving boxes that held your belongings. Ashton swallowed hard and he wiped a tear that was rolling down his face. It was his fault that you were leaving him.

The two of you had been having problems for months and on top of that Ashton began to stay out late and he started drinking. It was becoming a hassle trying to handle him when he was drunk. His temper had elevated and the insecurity of losing you had drove him mad. At some point he had became violent and threatened anyone that looked your way. There was something about seeing him get into fights that struck a chord with you. It made you realize that if Ashton acted this way when someone pissed him off, then what would happen if he got angry with you while he was drunk. You didn’t feel comfortable being around Ashton when he was in that state of mind. As the arguments increased you feared for your safety even more. Ashton of course promised that he would never put his hands on you, but you couldn’t take his word for it. You never know what could make a person snap. Even if he had never physically hurt you before, there was still the thought that Asthon could and it scared you. 

The sound of the door unlocking echoed around the loft apartment and soon the door opened allowing a flood of light to sparkle into the entrance. Ashton stayed in his spot and he closely watched as you came inside. You were dressed in sweats, hair pulled back, and face bare of makeup. It was as if someone could see the exhaustion radiating off of you. You were sick of the fighting and just needed to get out. You tossed your keys on the table next to the door and let out a sigh. You were too busy scrolling through your phone to notice Ashton sitting in the living room. He took another swig from the bottle and licked his lips. “Is the moving truck coming today?” Ashton questioned, his voice sounded rough and the sound of it made you jump in your spot.

“Holy fuck, Ashton! You scared me,” you sighed, placing your hand over your heart. Your eyebrows furrowed when you turned to look at him. “Really sitting in the dark?” you sighed, walking over to the windows to pull open the curtains. Ashton groaned as light filled the living room and his arm came up to shield his eyes. Once you had adjusted to the light you finally got a good look at him. Ashton looked worse than you. His hair sticking up, facial hair grown out more as if he hadn’t shaved in days, and bags under his eyes. You felt a tinge of sorrow at the sight of him but quickly shook the feeling away when you spotted the bottle of alcohol in his hands. “Of course you’re drinking,” you scoffed, walking towards the moving boxes. You began to mutter under your breath and grabbed the tape from off one of the boxes to continue securing your things.

Ashton tilted the bottle of alcohol in his hands and looked at it in disgust. The taste of it almost didn’t have an affect on him. Somehow Ashton had become immune to the burning sensation of hard alcohol. With a deep sigh he sat the bottle down on the coffee table and stood up from his spot. “Is the moving truck coming today?” he asked again, moving to sit at the bar stool. 

“Yeah. I won’t be here when they make the second trip, but Joey will give you back the key,” you told him. You bent down to pick up the box you had just taped and placed it closer to the door. You chewed on your bottom lip contemplating on if you wanted to tell Ashton something else Joey was going to hand him. “He’ll also hand you the d-divorce papers,” you said. Ashton blinked back in surprise and his eyebrows furrowed at your words.

“The what? No-no I’m not signing anything, Y/N,” Ashton said, “When did we ever decide on that? I recall us talking about you moving out. I remember us talking about being separated for a bit, but divorce? We never discussed that.” His voice had rose in anger and you flinched at his tone. “Fucking divorce papers…I’m not signing shit,” he scoffed, rubbing at his chin. Ashton thought you were being a bit too dramatic. Sure you two were having problems, but it wasn’t that bad for you to file for divorce. He had been holding out hope that you’d get over this rough patch. He agreed on letting you move out to clear your head. At least that way Ashton knew you were still his in a sense, but divorce meant you were no longer together. He would rather die than divorce you. He sucked in a deep breath and stood up from his spot to approach you.

You felt his hand grab your elbow and you let out a deep sigh. “Can we just talk about this please baby,” he said, voice sounding desperate. You looked up at the ceiling and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

“I’m done talking about it, Ashton. You made your choice and I made mine,” you said, brushing him off. “I think I left some stuff upstairs,” you said, quickly walking away from him. Your footsteps sounded loud as you ran up the stairs and disappeared from his view. Ashton rubbed at his forehead and took a long look at the boxes. He despised them knowing that once they were gone you were never coming back. The first night you had left made Ashton realize he couldn’t let your love slip away. Ashton needed you because you were his rock and without you here there’s no telling what he’d do. He wanted to change for the better but that was easier said than done. 

You sat at the edge of the bed and looked out the glass doors of the bedroom with a melancholy look. You could never think straight when you were around Ashton and you could feel hot tears spring at the corner of your eyes. “Stop it,” you hissed at yourself, wiping your face as the tears started to flow. “Stop crying,” you said, trying to put on a strong voice. It hurt to see Ashton like this and you knew he needed help. He had to control his anger and how much he drank. Someone had knocked on the door the sound echoed loudly around the loft. You stood up from your spot and patted your cheeks twice. You left the bedroom and at the same time wiped away the rest of your tears. Ashton wasn’t going to make you feel bad for wanting a change. Especially a change where you needed to feel safe around the person you’re with. The knocks continued and your eyes darted towards Ashton. He was still in the spot you had left him in. “You’re not going to get that at all?” you huffed, brushing pass him to open the door. 

“MOVING DAY!” your best friend, Lea, cheered, entering your apartment with your other best friend, Joey. Your eyebrows rose up at her words and you gave a quick smile. You weren’t in a happy mood, but you did feel relief about leaving the toxic environment you had been in. “Oop hey, Ashton I didn’t know you were here,” Lea said, giving you a ‘my bad’ look in an apology for her greeting towards you. Ashton rolled his eyes and began to shuffle upstairs to your once shared room. On the way he swiped a scotch bottle from out the bar and soon left you and your friends in the living room. 

“He’s still drinking?” Joey questioned earning a silent nod from you in return. 

“I don’t even know how to deal with him anymore,” you sniffled, “Whoever that is upstairs is not my husband.” Joey sighed at your words and his hand came down to squeeze your shoulder in reassurance. You shook your head “It’s fine. Let’s just load up the car,” you said, pulling away from your friend and grabbing one of the moving boxes. Lea and Joey shared a look and then followed in pursuit. Ashton seemed to spend the rest of his time in the bedroom drinking away his feelings. He had only peeked over the railing once to get a glimpse of you; wondering where it was the two of you went wrong. When half of your stuff was packed into the car you made your way upstairs. Ashton was laid out on the bed, headphones in, and eyes closed to block out the reality that was happening around him. You leaned against the door frame and watched him curiously. “Ashton,” you said, trying to get his attention. When he didn’t respond you called his name again and this time your voice rose to a louder pitch. You pushed off the door frame and walked over to him. “Ash!” you yelled, yanking the headphones out his ear. He jumped in surprise and looked at you with wide eyes. 

“What?” Ashton said, eyes scanning over your face. Your eyebrows furrowed at his tone making you take a step away from him, cross your arms, and clear your throat. 

“I’m taking the first half of my stuff to the apartment,” you told him. Ashton nodded at your words and for some reason you found yourself lingering. “Lea and Joey will be back for the rest while I go to my appointment-” you paused to walk towards the door but then stopped yourself to turn back towards Ashton. You gave him a hopeful look and you wanted Ashton to show some sign of resistance. You wanted him to show some attempt of change, but instead he took a swig from the Scotch bottle. Instead of saying what you were going to say, you straighten back your shoulders and said “When you get a chance send the divorce papers to my lawyer.” You left after that leaving Ashton alone to his thoughts. Five minutes had passed of your departure and Ashton was already upset. Pacing back and forth all while chugging the alcohol. You were tearing him apart and he was tearing you apart. Your last words rang through his head and Ashton let out an aggravated yell throwing the glass bottle of alcohol towards a wall. The sound of glass hitting against the wall was loud and the liquid splashed against the wall and dripped down onto the floor. Ashton’s knees began to buckle under him and he fell down onto the floor and broke down crying. 

     You were curled up on the couch in a blanket, hand grasping tight to the television remote as you flicked through the channels. The only thing showing up on most channels seemed to be infomercials and it made you wonder exactly why you were up this late. You hadn’t been sleeping much over the past month anyway. Staying up late and filling your nights with television to not hear yourself think. It was different to be living alone and that was the problem. You felt alone. It was what kept you up at night. Being aware that you were no longer living with someone you had been with for years. It was weird and you weren’t sure how you coped with being alone before Ashton ever came into your life. It was reaching the early hour of 2am when you were starting to finally drift off. Your eyelids becoming heavy and mouth parting as you started to fall asleep. It was for only a second that you felt the relief of sleep only to be pulled out of it by someone banging loudly on your front door. Your head flew up in shock and it took everything in you to get up from the couch. You pulled the blanket tightly around you and yawned as the loud knocking continued. 

You stood on your tippy toes to look through the peephole and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of the wavy light brown hair. Ashton was leaning up against your door, face pressed into the cold wood and fist pounding on the door. You quickly stepped away from the door and pressed your back against it. “Y/N! I KNOW YOU’RE HOME PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR!” Ashton shouted, banging on it harder this time. It was too early for this to be happening and from how his voice was slurring you knew Ashton must have been drunk. “Y/N!” Ashton shouted even more, making your eyes shut tight and teeth sink hard into your bottom lip. You knew if you didn’t answer Ashton would end up waking your neighbors. After a minute you sighed in defeat and unlocked the door. Ashton stumbled inside nearly falling on his face. Once he had caught his balance he turned to face you. 

“Ashton what are you doing here?” you questioned, yawning once more. He had statred shaking his head and you noticed Ashton was gripping at some papers. The sheets crumpled and torn around the edges. “Where have you been? Do you know I’ve been trying to get a hold of you?” you questioned, still keeping a safe distance away from him. Ever since you moved out Ashton had been in hiding. You spent a whole month without hearing from him. No calls or anything. You even contacted the boys to see if they’d heard from Ashton, but sadly no. It had almost gotten to a point where you were beginning to worry about him. “Ashton,” you sighed, trying hard to get through to him. He ignored your words and kept mumbling to himself about something. “You’re fucking wasted,” you sighed.

“I-I can’t sign this,” Ashton slurred, shaking the papers at you. Your eyes squinted and you pinched at the bridge of your nose. “I refuse to sign them. I don’t want to lose you baby,” he whispered, “I can’t-please I just can’t lose you.” You were taken aback by his words and realized Ashton was crying. He had been drinking, but the emotion he was giving off was no longer anger. It was sadness. 

“You have to sign them,” you sighed, now being the one to shake your head at him. “Sign them and go home Ashton,” you said, voice coming out stronger this time. Ashton let out a small laugh, the sound coming out watery as he was still crying. He approached you making you back away from him until your back hit against the wall. Ashton trapped you between him and the wall and his hands came up to press on the wall and rest over your head. His head dipped low until his face was inches away from yours. 

“No baby. You don’t mean that,” Ashton whispered, nudging his nose against yours. You sucked in a deep breath and your eyes closed as you felt the tears start to come. The stench of alcohol radiated off of him and you shook your head. “Tell me you still love me,” he mumbled, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and sending a peck to your skin. “We can make it work-we can work it out. Please don’t go away from me,” he whimpered, sending more kisses onto your neck. You had started to cry at that point. Your body wracking with sobs. It’s not like you didn’t love Ashton because you did. You loved him with all your heart, but you couldn’t go through this cycle of negativity and pain over again. “Please don’t go,” he cried once again, hands dropping down to grab at your hips. His fingers pressed hard into your skin like a child clutching to their favorite stuffed bear and you cried even more.

“You need help,” you said through tears, body relaxing into his touch against your wishes. 

“I need you,” Ashton mumbled, lips trailing up to kiss at your jaw. You shook your head again feeling the tears run down your cheeks. He wasn’t listening to you. Ashton’s mind being somewhere else with the alcohol in his system. You needed Ashton to understand that the two of you couldn’t move forward until he dealt with his own issues. 

“No, Ash no.” You sniffled, hand reaching up to grab his chin and turning it so that he’d face you. His lips were slightly puckered and his skin felt soft to the touch. “You. Need. Help.” The words came out slowly and your eyes bore into his, holding his gaze. “The drinking has to stop,” you said, beginning to chew on your bottom lip. Ashton tore his gaze away from you and his grip on your hips released. “You want us to work it out then go to rehab,” you softly said, finally taking a breath. He went quiet at your words and pulled back to hold you at arms length. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” you questioned. Ashton nodded at your words, but then shook his head. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched his face scrunch up and nose wrinkle. His eyes squinted and he gagged for a few seconds.

Ashton had lurched forward his head dropping as he began to throw up everything he had been drinking that night. You grimaced at the sight feeling uncomfortable as he continued to empty his stomach out onto your hard wood floor. Finally after some time Ashton coughed twice and spit out the excess vomit. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lazily looked at you. “Mm I’m sorry,” Ashton muttered, looking down at himself in disgust. The splash of it had hit against your floor and backfired onto Ashton. He was covered in his own vomit. You sighed loudly and rubbed at your temples. Ashton looked about ready to pass out, but you weren’t going to let him sleep in his own vomit. 

“Come on,” you said, stepping around the puddle of throw up. You bent down and your arms slipped under his arms so that you could haul him up. Ashton placed his weight on you and you pulled him as best as you could towards your bathroom. Once inside you sat him down on the toilet seat and turned your back so you could turn on the water. You plugged the tub up and allowed it to fill. Ashton was too out of it to wash himself so you were going to have to do it. “Stand up for me,” you coaxed, trying to lift Ashton up yourself. He complied to your words and stood up. You grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Ashton looked like a lost puppy as you began to undress him. Your fingers brushed against his abdomen and Ashton could feel his skin heat up at the touch. Your fingers worked on unbuttoning his jeans. Pulling down the zipper and yanking them down his legs. A smirk made its way onto his lips when you had gone down onto your knees. The minute you felt his hand grab at your hair you slapped it away. “Stop it,” you huffed, standing up once you had him out of his jeans. Finally Ashton was standing naked in front of you and the tub was filled up with water. 

The water felt warm against Ashton’s skin and his head rested back against the wall as he let out a moan of comfort. Steam coated the bathroom mirrors and you sat on the floor watching Ashton. Your fingers dipped into the water and silence filled the air. It almost felt like a comfortable silence, but you knew it wasn’t going to last for long. Ashton’s hand lifted from out the water and he reached out to wipe a tear that was rolling down your cheek. You closed your eyes at the gesture and then cleared your throat. Your hand dipped into the water to grab at the wash cloth and you poured some body wash into it before grabbing Ashton’s arm and washing him. He sat quietly in the water and allowed you to run the towel across his body and wash away the day he had had. The once clear water had become foggy as the dirt washed off of him. Ashton stood up and he felt his cheeks heat up when he realized he had gotten hard. “M’sorry…it’s just the heat and-” his hands went down to cover his hard on and you nodded at his words. He had sobered up just a bit, but was still slightly out of it. You unplugged the tub and grabbed a towel for him to dry off with. 

“I have extra toothbrushes in the cabinet. You can wash out that taste while I grab you something to wear,” you told him, handing over the towel an exiting the bathroom. You began to rummage through your drawers looking for some of Ashton’s old clothes that you had acquired into your own wardrobe. You found a t-shirt and some basketball shorts that you had worn the first time you’d spent the night with him. You grabbed the articles of clothing and made your way back into the bathroom where Ashton was hunched over the sink brushing his teeth. He looked over to you for a split second and spit out the excess toothpaste. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, going back to brushing as you sat the clothes on the counter. You nodded at his words then left out to go clean up his vomit from your living room floor. It was reaching 4am and you were tired as can be. Eyes bloodshot, but not in the way that Ashton’s was, hair a mess, and body exhausted. You grabbed some rubber gloves out the kitchen drawer and began to clean. Finally after five minutes you were finished cleaning and sprayed some Febreze to hide the stench. You dragged yourself towards your bedroom finally ready to close your eyes and get some type of rest. When you came to the entrance of your bedroom you found Ashton passed out asleep on your bed. You shook your head and just climbed into bed with him. A sigh of relief left your lips as your head fell onto the pillow. Not too long after Ashton’s arm draped over your body and he pulled you closer into him. You didn’t even fight it this time and just allowed his body to mold into yours. “I love you,” he hummed, finally drifting off to sleep. You found yourself smiling at his words and squeezed his hand. Soon succumbing to sleep yourself. 

     Ashton was still hard. His crotch pressed up against your ass and the feeling of his boner was what had woken you up. You felt yourself grow wet at the pressure and you became angry with yourself for wanting Ashton in this moment. Ever since you both separated you had been lacking sex and you knew he had been too. Your eyes darted towards the clock and you let out another groan. You had only slept for two hours. Turning back to look at Ashton you could tell he was still deep in sleep. He was probably having a sex dream which is what brought on his boner. You felt your skin heat up and you tried to shake the thought of him filling you up from out your mind. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you on even if he wasn’t awake. The whole thing felt inappropriate especially considering the events that had happened earlier. Ashton snuggled closer to you and he softly grind his crotch into your ass and a moan slipped from his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore, turning in your spot and shaking Ashton awake. He groaned and pushed your hand away.

“What?” Ashton mumbled tiredly, eyes peeling open. Even though he was tired Ashton looked as if he had fully sobered up in the little time he had slept. 

“Can you fix your damn boner it’s making me-It woke me up,” you corrected yourself. Ashton’s eyebrows furrowed at your words and he lifted the covers to take a look for himself. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled for the third time that night. Ashton scratched at the back of his neck and he looked at you for a second almost hesitating to get out of bed. “Excuse me,” he said, finally sliding out from under the covers. You sat up in your spot and watched him walk towards the door. Your breathing had quickened in pace and your fingers fiddled with the duvet as Ashton left your room to take care of his “problem”. You sat in silence and stared at the door where he had gone through. Your core throbbed and you began to argue with yourself. 

“Ash,” you called, losing out to how your mind felt against what your body and heart wanted. He was quick to come back, head poking through the door to give you a quizzical look. 

“Yeah?” Ashton asked, eyebrows knitting in question. Your mouth parted for a split second and you licked your lips not sure how to voice what you wanted. You bit down on your bottom lip and stared at him in innocence. Ashton recognized the look you were giving him. You had often used it when you two had just finished arguing about something stupid and you were too stubborn to actually say you wanted to fuck him. His eyes widened in surprise and broken sounds left his lips. “A-Are you positive you want to do that?” he questioned, earning an eager nod from you in return. “Oh-um,” Ashton felt his cock grow harder at your unspoken words. His eyes clouding over in lust as he watched you rub up and down your arm in nervousness. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whined out, becoming inpatient at the fact that Ashton was still frozen in his spot. Ashton was quick to move from his spot. The bed dipped as he climbed on it once more and you moaned in delight when his lips pressed against yours in a passionate kiss. It had been months since you last kissed Ashton and it felt like you were at home. Your hands snaked around his neck and you pulled him into a deeper kiss. It was one of both hunger and need. Teeth clashing together and tongues massaging one another. “Mhmm I missed you,” you breathed into him, the kiss parting as he pulled off your shirt. You weren’t wearing a bra and Ashton groaned at the sight of your breasts. His head dipped into the crook of your neck and he kissed at your skin. This time you wanted the action and your head tilted to the side to allow him more access to your neck. Soft moans left your mouth as he trailed his lips down and took your nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin and your hands laced into Ashton’s hair. He pulled away to give you another kiss and you tugged at his shirt wanting him to take it off. 

“Patience, baby doll you’ll get to feel me soon,” Ashton whispered, pinching at your nipple until it was a hardened nub. You let out a moan and your hand reached out to grip at his shoulder. Your core throbbed and you felt a flood of wetness hit you when Ashton toyed with the hem of your pajama shorts. Your lips trailed across his jaw sucking tiny love bites into his skin. His moans turned you on even more and your hands slipped into his basketball shorts and softly grabbed at his cock. Ashton’s body tensed up against yours for a second and then he relaxed as you began to stroke his cock. His grip on your hips tightened and Ashton’s face fell to rest on your shoulder as he enjoyed the pleasure you were giving him. It took everything in him to pull away from you making a whine leave your lips. “Mhm no-keep doing that and I’m gonna explode,” he said, finally yanking down your pajama shorts. 

Once again Ashton’s lips were back on your body. He kissed between the valley of your breasts and marked your under boob with love bites. He continued his trek down your body making sure to kiss every inch of your skin as possible. Heat rose at your chest when Ashton kissed at your ankle and he sent you a wink. He kissed down your leg and came close to your core. His breath felt hot against your skin and Ashton took a tentative lick up your folds. Your eyes closed in bliss and when he took another lick, longer and the tip of his tongue fiddling with your clit, your back arched. Ashton’s hands slipped under your ass and he pulled you closer beginning to eat you out some more. Your thighs quivered as Ashton nipped at your bundle of nerves his pointer finger circling over your entrance. He sucked at your folds and the sound of him slurping up your juices sounded loud in your ears. Your moans bounced off the walls and you wrapped your legs around his head to draw him more into you. Ashton’s cock pulsated at the sound of your moans and he plunged his finger into your heat. “Ashton please,” you whimpered, hands fisting at the sheets. You needed him badly and the way he was licking you out had your body aching in the best way possible. He slipped another finger inside of you and began to thrust them, tongue circling around your clit and making your body convulse. Your eyes fluttered as you felt deep in the pit of your stomach your release approaching. It felt so good and you began to rock against Asthon’s fingers, slowly riding it as your release continued to build up. He curled his fingers up and the tips of it brushed at your g-spot. Ashton replaced his fingers with his tongue and he moaned at your taste. The vibrations of his moans hit your clit and your legs shook as you came to your release. 

Ashton hummed as your hips rose and legs kicked out in pleasure. He took two more licks up your slit and then kissed at your inner thigh. Your hand rose to rest at your forehead and you tried to focus on catching your breath. Your skin felt on fire as Ashton kissed back up to your lips. He gave you a passionate kiss allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. Ashton rested his forehead against yours and traced his fingertips across your skin. “You okay?” he whispered, sending tiny pecks to your shoulder. You hummed in response and gave him a lazy smile. You had missed having Ashton between your legs. You turned in your spot until you were facing Ashton. He gave you a smile and you kissed him softly before sliding your hand back into his basketball shorts. The head of his cock leaked with precum and you swiped your thumb over the tip. Ashton’s eyes closed at the feeling and his hip instinctively bucked at your touch. The kiss grew even more and you pulled down his shorts. Ashton kicked them off and you continued to stroke his cock. Your arousal grew and you pushed Ashton onto his back so that you could straddle him.

Your nails scratched down Ashton’s chest as you sat on his cock. His chest heaved up and down and you began to rock your hips. You were teasing the both of you. Your clit throbbing as it continued to slide across his cock. Ashton’s hand flew up to grab your hips and he halted your movements. He swallowed hard and you smirked at him. “It’s not fun when you’re the one being teased huh?” you said. Ashton glared at your words before pinching at your hip. 

“Stop teasing,” he said in a raspy voice. You grinned at his words and leaned down to give him another kiss. This time your hips rose and you grabbed his cock and ran his tip between your folds for a few seconds before sinking down on him. You both simultaneously moaned and your face fell into the crook of his neck. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus. It had been months since Ashton had last filled you up and your body molded into his perfectly. You missed this feeling. Once you had caught your breath you lifted up and looked down at Ashton. His teeth was sunk into his bottom lip as he stared at you in awe. You slowly lifted up until the head of his cock was the only thing inside of you and then you slid back down, starting a slow and steady pace. Ashton let out a throaty moan and began to move his hips up to match your speed. You began to roll your hips down in figure eights and the pace picked up. You rocked your hips against his and let out tiny moans. Ashton’s hand reached down to rub at your clit making your body shake above his. Your hands rested on the headboard and you began to really ride him. Tiny jolts of pleasure coursing through you. Ashton decided he wanted to control control the pace and his hands gripped at your hips. He took control and began to pound up into you. Your head fell back and you let out loud moans with you slightly distracted bythe pleasure, Ashton took the opportunity to flip you over onto your side. A small yelp left your lips at his actions and your leg draped over his hip. You giggled in surprise and he continued to thrust into you. Ashton was close and you had already came once, so getting him to his release was what drove you on. The pleasure was sending you into overdrive as Ashton tried to get you to another release. Ashton gave you a particularly sharp thrust and the head of his cock hit at your g-spot. Ashton pulled you closer and his lips landed on yours. He nibbled at your bottom lip and your tongues clashed together. The kiss broke and Ashton slowed down his pace to make you feel every inch of his cock. “I love you,” he whispered, feeling you start to clench around his length.

You had reached out to caress his cheek and your eyes rolled back into their sockets. “I love you too,” you cried out, breath fanning over Ashton’s skin. Your clenching became unbearable and Ashton grunted loudly as he came. You gasped at the feeling and your head fell back against the pillows. You both lazily grinned at each other and Ashton pulled out of you. You laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling in shock. Sleeping with Ashton was never your plan nor was him showing up at your doorstep. “I’m gonna go pee,” you sighed after a moment, peeling yourself from Ashton’s embrace and making your way to the bathroom. You flicked on the light and shuffled to the toilet, raising the lid of the toilet and sitting down to pee. You stared at the tile walls of the shower for a few seconds and then began to cry. You were a bit sad, but more in shock. With everything that had gone on you couldn’t believe you had caved. Ashton was still your husband so it wasn’t all bad, but you had still filed for divorce. Or at least tried to file since Ashton refused to sign the papers. Your head was spinning and you needed more sleep feeling exhausted now. You found your way back to bed, curling up besides an already sleeping Ashton and headed back to bed yourself. 

     The smell of bacon wafted into your room making you stir in your sleep. You turned over in your bed feeling the weight of it being much lighter than before. Your face nuzzled more into your pillow and you wanted to get more rest, but the smell of food was much more appealing than sleeping. Your body felt slightly heavy as you slid out of bed and you searched your floor for your shirt that Ashton had pulled off of you. Mouth opening to let out a yawn as you made your way out your room. The smell grew even more prominent as you came close to the kitchen. You stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, standing like a lost puppy at the sight of Ashton, and rubbing at your eyes. For a moment the events of the early morning had left your mind, but seeing Ashton brought them back. He was standing in front of your stove stirring something in a pot and flipping the bacon at the same time. Ashton had his back facing towards you and you were hit with a sudden feeling of comfort. He had often made breakfast when the two of you woke up from a long night. You could distinctly remember Ashton cooking you sausage and pancakes with strawberries on top. Fresh squeezed orange juice rested at the center of the table and a plate set up in waiting for the food to lay on it. Things were much simpler back then.

You had cleared your throat, catching Ashton’s attention by the sound. He looked worse than earlier. Hazel eyes less dilated than before, but still a tinge of red could be seen on his eyeballs. His facial hair looked as if it had grown even more and from the small crease in his forehead you knew Ashton was hungover. There were tiny bruises scattering his skin from the love bites you had given him. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said, giving you a sheepish smile. Ashton turned off one of the burners on the stove and placed the freshly cooked bacon on a plate. “Got hungry and I didn’t want to just cook for myself,” he said, voice coming out timidly. You nodded at his words and found yourself walking more into the kitchen to sit down at the table. Ashton wasn’t showing any sign of remembering what had happened. Though the goofey smile on his face showed that he remembered the two of you having sex. In fact he didn’t even seem surprised that he had woken up naked in bed next to you. Your eyes glanced towards the clock and you realized you had slept through the whole morning.

“Waffles and oatmeal?” you questioned, looking up at him with raised eyebrows when he began to pour the oatmeal into a bowl for you. Ashton looked down at the display of food and you could see a hint of a pink blush against his cheeks. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were hungry for so I made both,” he said, placing the hot pot back on the stove before taking a seat across from you. Ashton picked up a bowl of blueberries and he held it out for you to grab some. You grabbed a spoon and scooped up some of the fruit and placed it in your oatmeal. 

“Thanks.” The two of you ate in silence, avoiding each other’s gazes. It almost felt like old times again and for some reason you wanted to relish in it. Live as if nothing wrong had ever happened and that you two weren’t separated. The sound of forks scraping against plates and the sips of coffee was the only sound present in your home. You were surprised to see Ashton drinking something other than alcohol, but you weren’t going to voice your surprise out loud. Right now you wanted to avoid the drama. Alas the quiet moment ended all too soon by Ashton breaking the silence. 

“Y/N,” he whispered making your fork pause halfway towards your mouth and your gaze land on him. 

“Hm?” you mumbled, taking a bite out of the waffle and chewing slowly. Ashton rubbed at his facial hair and he looked down at his plate of food before meeting your gaze.

“I-um. I vaguely remember what occurred last night,” he said, “It’s showing up in my mind like jigsaw puzzles that I have to put together.” You could see his eyes cloud over in sadness, “One thing I do remember is making you cry,” he whispered. The image of your tears was clear as day in Ashton’s mind and it caused him pain to know that he was the reason for your tears. It was never his intention to hurt you. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but it happened more times than he could count and Ashton hated himself for that. You had stopped eating at his words and dropped your gaze. “I want to change for you, so I’ll do it-I’ll go to rehab and get sober for you,” he said. Ashton reached out to grab your hand and for some reason you didn’t pull away. “If I do this promise me that we’ll work it out? That you’ll stop wanting to divorce because I need you right here with me at all times. I won’t let go of you.” He looked at you hopefully and you chewed on your bottom lip as his words washed over you.

“The drinking stops and you’ll take some anger management classes?” you questioned, earning an eager nod from him. 

“I meant what I said last night. I still love you,” he repeated. You smiled at his words and then nodded.

“You get sober and I promise you we’ll work it out. No divorce,” you agreed, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Ashton grinned and the sides of his eyes crinkled in happiness. You had agreed which was all the motivation Ashton needed. He was going to change for the better and fix your marriage.

Hide and Seek

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Omega!Werewolf!Reader -A/B/O

Summary:  You’re a bonded Omega who left your human family when you were turned. Now, a year later, your mother and father have hired an interventionist to extract you from what they assume is a cult. 

A/N: What are a/b/o dynamics

Words: 5300+

Beta: @just-another-busy-fangirl

Warnings: Pregnancy, kidnapping, dominance, violence. References to: claiming, choking, oral sex, unprotected sex (obvi), biting, rough sex, some dom/sub overtones.

Your name: submit What is this?


It’s not that you didn’t love your family, in fact it’s quite the opposite, love is the reason you disappeared. Being bitten by a werewolf meant that life as you knew it was over. You had nightmares of killing your mother under a full moon, unable to control your base instincts: ripping out your father’s heart and eating it raw under the night sky.

Telling them the truth wasn’t an option; your father’s a physiologist, your mother a nurse. They’re level headed people who at the first mention of lycanthropy would have had you committed.

You couldn’t stay. You couldn’t see a way out, so you ran.

You wrote a note. Most of it was lies, but you wanted it to seem plausible. It wasn’t in your character to just abandon the people you loved, so you had to make it seem real. You had to hurt them so they would let you go. You wrote about meeting someone you wanted to start a life with, about how they’d suffocated you for twenty five years and you just couldn’t take anymore. You told them they drove you to leave.

You cried as you set the note on the kitchen table early one brisk autumn morning, then walked out the door falsely assuming you’d never seem them again.

Keep reading

Sharpie Promises

Originally posted by escaped-ocelot

Raphael x Reader

Sharpie Promises

Note: I don’t know if I’ll publish this or not, but basically, I’m a ho for TMNT and soulmate AUs and I’ve never seen a TMNT Soulmate AU, so here you go. It’s the 2k14/2k16 turtles btw. Idk. I might do more of these if you guys like it.

Raphael wasn’t human. He had struggled with this, but had eventually come to terms with the fact. He didn’t have a soulmate and he wouldn’t ever find love. Not in a world full of humans. He tried to be all right with it. Keyword: tried.

It wasn’t until he was working out one day that he felt something cold and wet travelling across his left forearm. Just as quickly as it had started, it stopped. He removed his three-fingered hands from the weight he had been lifting and sat up to examine it.

Hi.

Messy black letters written in Sharpie. His green eyes narrowed. What was this? He had never felt or seen anything like this. But there it was, plain as day on his arm. He stared at it, afraid that the words would disappear, but no. They stayed right where they were. And then soon after, more appeared from nowhere, as though a ghost was writing on his arm with an invisible marker.

So, it’s like three in the morning here and I don’t know if I’m doing this right, but um, hi.

A long pause. Raph stared in amazement, too shocked to say anything.

You’re probably asleep, aren’t you? Dammit. Well, um…bye, I guess.

He had never run so fast in his life.

“Woah, woah, watch it!” Donnie raised his arms as Raph pushed his chair away from his station and grabbed a Sharpie, pulling off the cap between his teeth and scrawling in the empty space on his arm.

Wait.

***

Your heart raced as a response finally appeared.

Wait.

Big, messy letters that you could tell had been written in a rush.

I’m here. Who are you? What’s happening?

You stared at the letters, the handwriting. Your stomach dropped, the nerves kicking in. This was it. This was your soulmate. You had no idea how this worked. No one did, but it worked, and that was all that mattered. A magical pen-pal from far away, probably. Why anyone would be up at this ungodly hour besides you was beyond you. But now you had to reply. You turned over your arm to write back.

I’m (Y/N). Your soulmate, I think. I don’t know…this is what everyone else does, but I’ve always been too shy to try.

***

Soulmate.

Raph’s heart skipped a beat when the word was written on his arm. Soulmate. He had a soulmate. He actually had…Oh my God.

“Raph, are you crying?” Mikey asked, looking up at his older brother, whose eyes certainly looked a little misty.

“N-no. I just got dirt in my eye. Go away.” He sniffled and smiled.

“Whatcha doin’?” the youngest turtle looked over Raph’s shoulder and scanned a few words before he raised his arm far above Mikey’s head, but he had already seen it. Soulmate. “You…you have a soulmate?”

“I guess so.” Raph shrugged. By now, Donnie and Leo were paying attention to what was happening.

“You have a what?” Donnie’s head snapped around. He pulled down Raph’s arm to examine it. But there it was, plain as day. What the internet described as a ‘soulmate exchange’. “I didn’t think it was scientifically possible for you…for us to have…”

“Are you serious?” Leo came over to look.

“What do I look like? A freakin’ museum?” Raph snapped. “Now go away. I gotta write ‘er back.” The others gave him some space as he walked over to the couch and sat down, the tip of the Sharpie hovering over his green arm.

Soulmate, huh? Did think I had one of those. Name’s Raphael. Nice to meet ya.

***

What are you, a renaissance artist? Lol JK

Something like that.

So where are you from, Mr. Renaissance Artist?

New York, New York.

Seattle, Washington. Well, this might be a little complicated, huh?

Something like that…

***

You wrote to Raphael until the sun came up and then you crashed. You had thought it was a dream until you saw the words written there the next morning. You had a soulmate. His name was Raphael. He was from New York.

But at least he existed. It could be a lot worse.

It wasn’t until about noon, three o’clock there, that you wrote to him again, after having wiped your arm off to give you more room to write.

Good morning.

You wake up at noon?

Only when I’m up until sunrise talking to my soulmate.

Fair enough.

So how’s your day been?

Overwhelming.

Fair enough.

***

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey were all bunched behind Raphael to watch.

“Go away!”

“Dude, we just wanna watch.” Mikey whined.

“Go! Away!”

“All right, sheesh,” Donnie walked back to his lab, and Leo and Mikey reluctantly walked away.

So…

He wrote.

What’cha wanna talk about?

I don’t know.

What’s it like in Seattle?

Rainy. What’s it like in New York?

Noisy. He replied, a smirk spreading across his scarred lips. How old are you?

Seventeen.

Same.

Nice. How tall are you?

Like 6’5”-ish.

Holy shit! You’re gonna have to bend down to kiss me.

Kiss you. He was going to kiss you. Eventually. A new concept. Butterflies spread through his stomach, but he tried to play it off.

You a shorty?

Compared to you, yeah. Always had a thing, for tall guys, though. No worries. ;)

He smiled.

Got any hobbies? You asked.

Ninjitsu, bein’ a giant mutant turtle, etc…

Uh, I knit sometimes. And I work out. A lot.

Mr. Muscles the Knitting Renaissance Artist. You keep getting better and better.

So what do you do for fun, Shorty in Seattle?

Oh you know, read, write, spend ungodly amounts of time on the internet.

Sounds fun.

It is. So, anyways, I’ve been looking into New York travel recently (and by recently I mean right now immediately) for reasons, you know. Anyway, what area of New York should I travel to in…ten months when I go to college (that I’ve just applied to) there?

***

After a long day of talking to you and patrolling and trying to work out, Raph was exhausted. He laid in his top bunk, reading your ramble with a smile.

After replying, he knew it was time to go to sleep.

I’m wiped. I gotta sleep.

Oh, okay. Goodnight Raph.

Night, (nickname).

I love you.

His heart skipped a beat.

I love you too.

I can’t wait to meet you.

Already countin’ down the days, babe.

Me too.

***

Weeks later, you got an idea.

So, theoretically, if I were to Skype you, would you pick up?

I don’t have a Skype.

I want to hear your voice.

I can call you, if you want. I just don’t do video chats?

Why?

Because I’m a giant freaking mutant turtle and I don’t want my soulmate to hate and/or be afraid of me.

I want to see you for the first time in person.

All right then. Here’s my number.

You waited in bated breath for your phone to ring, and then suddenly it did. Your thumb hovered above the accept button. You felt like your whole body was trembling.

“Hey there.” You could hear the shaking in your voice. He chuckled, and already you loved the sound of his laugh.

“Hey yourself,”

“Oh my God, I love your voice.” You gushed.

“I love yours too, shorty.”

“Aaaaah! Your accent is so hot!”

“Heh, yeah.” He smiled.

“Ooh, are you talking to (Y/N)?” Mikey asked. “Can I say hi?”

“No, you can’t. Shoo.”

“Who’s that?” You asked.

“My little brother.” Mikey tried to reach up and grab Raph’s phone, but he squirmed away from him. “Mikey, go away!”

“But-!”

“Go away!”

“I wanna say hi to your girlfriend!!”

“Mikey, leave Raph alone.” Leo smirked from across the lair. The youngest brother left, deflated.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Where were we?”

“I was gushing over your very attractive voice, Mr. Muscles.”

“Ah. Right.” He tried not to blush and failed miserably. A slow smirk snuck across his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too!”

***

“Did you get it yet?” Raph called you a few months before you were supposed to arrive. As the day approached, he got more and more anxious. You would be here in New York and he wouldn’t be able to skirt around the truth anymore. He was a giant turtle and you were a human girl. It wasn’t going to work out.

But nonetheless, he had sent you something. Something to remember him by if it didn’t work out, he supposed.

“It came in today! I haven’t opened it yet, though. I’m going to right now. Give me a sec, I’m gonna put you on speaker.”

“All right.” Raph listened as you set down your phone and put him on speaker. Then came the noise of you cutting the tape and opening the small cardboard box and sifting through the tissue paper.

“Oh my gosh! It’s amazing! I love it! You really made this?”

“I did.” He smirked. You held up the perfect little pendant. A polished wooden turtle that Raphael had carved himself. It hung from a simple twine string. You put it on immediately, tying the necklace around your neck. You let your fingers run over all of the intricate little grooves.

“I’m never taking it off, I hope you know that.”

“I’m flattered.” He chuckled. “I can’t wait to see how it looks on ya.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

A nervous little laugh.

“Yeah. Pretty soon, now.”

“It couldn’t come soon enough.” You smiled warmly. “It’s late. I’m gonna get some sleep. Exams tomorrow and then I’m out of school for the summer. And then, only two months until I get to see you.”

“Well, you rest up, shorty. Get good grades. I don’t want ya to fail.”

“Good night. I love you.”

“I love ya too. Night.”

When he hung up, he stared at the ceiling. God, what was he gonna do?

***

You were full of jitters when you landed in New York two short months later. The time had crawled by so slow, but you passed the time. And now you were here, the center of the modern world.

“I’m here! I just landed! When do you want to meet up?”

“Um, how about you get settled? Go to your apartment or whatever. I’ll come over tonight.”

“Okay.” Your heart raced. “Okay. I’ll see you then. I’ll uh, get you the address once I find it.”

“Sounds like a plan. Stay safe. I’ll see ya tonight.”

“See you.” When you hung up, Raph started to pace through the lair.

“I’m going to see her tonight. Oh my God. She’s gonna find out I’m a giant turtle and she’s gonna hate me.”

“Statistically, after ten months of-”

“No more science bulllshit, Don! I’m a freak! She’s gonna run screamin’ and I’ll never see her again!”

“It’ll be fine, Raph. You’re over reacting. As usual.” Leo’s tone was cool, annoyed. “She loves you. We’d have to be blind not to see that.”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight, huh?” He slumped onto the couch, a deep dread setting in. Tonight was not going to be pretty. He knew it.

***

After you had unpacked and met your roommate, a very nice woman named April who had been searching for a roommate for some time now, you called Raph and gave him an address. He asked about how things were and so you told him about your roommate. He chuckled. Well, that might make things a little easier. He told you he wasn’t far and he would be over in a few.

“Who’s that?” April asked after you hung up.

“My soulmate. He’s the reason I moved here, actually. He’s coming here if that’s okay.”

“More than fine with me.” She smiled. “What’s his name?”

“Raphael.” You told her. Her face lit up in surprise. Now the turtle necklace she had complimented you on when you walked in made a whole lot of sense. She doubted that you knew why though.

So this was the (Y/N) he had talked about. His soulmate. Shorty from Seattle.

“Nice name.”

“I know, right?” Your phone buzzed. “Oh my God, it’s him.”

“Hey babe, come outside.” You stood there in confusion for a second. “Fire escape.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll be down in a sec.” You nodded, tucking the phone away. Your heart raced as you climbed out the window and down the metal fire escape to the alley below. There, in the shadows stood a very tall, very large silhouette.

“Hey there.” It was him. His voice. In person. “I uh, I need ya to promise me something, gorgeous.”

“What?”

“Just…p-promise you won’t scream.”

“Why would I-?”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” You stated certainly.

“I, uh, I ain’t exactly…normal.”

“I love you, Raph.”

“You won’t when you see me.” His voice was quiet as all of his insecurities came to the surface.

“Raphael,” You reached out for him, hand forward for a long few moments until his three-fingered green one met it, pressing against it like Tarzan and Jane. Something familiar and something foreign. You gasped quietly, but when he moved to pull away, you gripped one of his large fingers. “Please.”

He let out a long sigh, considering bolting then and there, but he gave in and took a few slow, heavy steps out of the dark to where you could see him. Your soulmate was a giant mutant turtle. He waited for the sting of rejection, for the tears of disappointment streaming down your cheeks, but they never came. Instead, you pulled his muscular arms around yourself, clinging to him as though this was your last chance. He held you tight against his plastron, his knees giving out in the wave of relief that washed over him. Raph buried his face in the crook of your neck, and you felt hot tears against your skin.

Thank you.” A broken whisper from his scarred lips. “Thank you.”

“I love you.” You kissed his cheek and then his forehead, and you lifted his face to look at the green face under the tattered red bandana.

“All ‘uh this don’t bug you?” He asked, tear-filled green eyes searching yours. “You don’t care that I’m a freak?”

“You’re not a freak, Raphael.” The feeling of your soft skin against his face drove him up the wall in the best possible way. “Not to me.”

“Are ya just sayin’ that because I’m your soulmate?”

“I mean it.” You locked eyes with him and he felt as though you were staring into his soul. His smile was the most gorgeous thing you had ever seen. Curiosity sparked behind your eyes as you examined every inch of him, taking him in. “What are you?”

There wasn’t hatred or fear in your voice, only awe.

“I’m a mutant. A turtle. Hence the uh-” he motioned to the necklace around your neck. “That.”

“I love turtles,” You whispered as you kissed his snout. You were so close. So close he could just about…

You closed the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He didn’t know how to respond, but followed his instincts and tried his hardest to kiss you back. His large hands held your hips and your small hands framed his jaw before moving to his shoulders, fingers gently searching the terrain of his shell.

When you finally pulled away from him, you looked at him for a long time.

“Hey do you wanna come up for pizza?” April called down from the apartment window.

“Yeah, sure April. Are the guys coming?”

“Just got off the phone with Leo. They’re on their way.”

“Wait, you two know eachother?” You asked. Raph smiled and shrugged, finally getting to his feet and taking you with him. God, he was so tall.

“We go way back.” April smiled. “I named him.”

“What?”

“Long story. Come on, shorty.” He picked you up off of the ground as if you weighed nothing and carried you on his hip, your feet dangling a foot in the air. “’Bout time you met my brothers, huh?”

***

After you had met his brothers and enjoyed some celebratory pizza, the six of you had settled down to watch a movie. At the moment, Raph was spread out on the couch with you laying on top of him and a cozy red blanket draped over both of you. He nuzzled into your neck as your hands traced gentle circles on his plastron.

“I love you, Raphael.” You kissed his jaw. He hummed contentedly.

“I love you too, soulmate.” The word had never sounded so right.

@turtllinis @turtimagines @turtlebaes @anetteshortie @imagineninjaturtles @imaginetmnt @totally-turtle-imagines @immortal-turtles

Novocaine-Chapter 1

Summary: you have never been seen as beautiful, never been noticed, always picked last, in love and daily life, you pretend you’re fine with it, that you can live with it, until you start catching feelings for a certain super soldier, which he doesn’t return.it, until you start catching feelings for a certain super soldier, which he doesn’t return.

Warnings: Angst.

Pairings: Bucky X Reader (Unrequited Bucky), Steve x reader (Platonic), Natasha x reader (Platonic), Avengers x reader, Dean X reader, Cas x reader, Sam x reader TFW x Reader

Word Count: 1354

6 months ago

“Hey, B? Can we talk?” you ask, fidgeting nervously with the frayed sleeve of your battered sweatshirt. It was your favorite, a neon pink monstrosity with a Wookie riding a motorcycle on it, your sister had given to you before she’d left for New Zealand many years ago. What made her buy it, you had no idea. You weren’t particularly fond of pink, but anything with a Wookie on it was fine in your book. It needed to be thrown away, but you couldn’t bear to part with it.

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky replies, placing the book he was reading on the coffee table with a small thud and turning to face you, his gaze curious and slightly afraid, his brow furrowed with worry.

“We’ve been friends for years, Buck…” you trail off uncertainly, self-doubt crawling up your spine. Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another, you pull at the bottom of your hoodie trying to make yourself smaller. Your eyes dart from his to the floor, from the floor to the ceiling, finally settling on staring out the window. Shoving the self-doubt down, you muster all the confidence you can willing yourself to speak the words which reside in your heart. What’s the worst that could happen?  Breathing deeply, you wrap your arms around your waist trying to hold yourself together.

“Doll?” Bucky questions worriedly. Rising from the couch, he moves toward you.

You hold up a single hand.

He stops immediately, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Sighing heavily, you let your hand fall. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, not at all. You’d practiced and everything damn it!

“Have you ever thought about more, y’know, for us?” you whisper, finally meeting his eyes which are curiously blank. The look makes your heart sink. God, you were such a fool. What were you thinking?

“Do ya mean like a… a relationship?” he asks, his voice flat.

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, in too deep to pull out now. You had to see this through. Nodding once, you ignore the sharp intake of breath from Bucky.

“Ya feel that way about me, doll?” he asks gently, moving cautiously forward. Precise movements, like he’s approaching a scared animal.

You do your best not to flinch when he lays a hand on your shoulder, ducking his head to try and catch your gaze. Again you nod, eyes trained firmly on the floor.

He sighs and retracts his hand, dragging it nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t…” he swallows nervously when your face drains of color, your ruby red lips becoming a sharp contrast against your pale skin. “I don’ feel that way about ya,” he whispers, his heart breaking as your tears start to fall. “Hey… hey look at me,” he says, but you refuse, staring at a point just past his shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Shadow, I just don’ wanna ruin that, ya know?” he says uncertainly.

You feel hot and cold, the embarrassment and rejection a living thing you worming its way beneath your skin. Shoving it down, all of it, every single emotion currently beating against your scarred heart, you raise your eyes to meet his and smile.

His brow furrows once more, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but you cut him off before he can.

“It’s fine, Bucky. It was stupid. I was stupid. See ya later,” you say calmly, turning on your heel and marching from the room.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” he calls after you.

Ignoring him, you instruct F.R.I.D.A.Y not to let anyone in your room for good measure, needing time to tape back together the pieces of your shattered heart.

Present

You wish you could say you were handling things maturely, that you’d taken the rejection in stride, that you’d carried on with your friendship as if you hadn’t spilled your guts all over him then bolted out the room like a broken hearted teenager.You really wish you could, it wasn’t the first time you had been cast unceremoniously aside, but you weren’t going to think about him. Not again.

Instead, you had systematically distanced yourself from Bucky, stopped the Saturday movie nights, stopped going out to dinner, stopped joking around, until there was nothing left but distance. A seven-year friendship destroyed by your inability to accept and move on.

Bucky had tried, he really had, pursuing you with a single mindedness which scared you. He refused to give up. He needed you. Next to Steve you were the only one he connected with, but even he had his limits and five months in all contact stopped.

Crippling loneliness had set in, so lost were you in your self-imposed isolation you barely noticed the drop in temperature, or the faint rustling of wings, or the distinct sound of weapons being drawn.

“Shadow,” the gruff voice of your favorite angel washes over you, startling you back into reality.

Eyes snapping up, they widen comically as you take in the state of the living area.

Steve had his shield raised, ready to strike, Bucky was twirling a knife menacingly in his hand, Sam had his fists raised ready to unleash hell if Cas dared moved a muscle.

Cas’s smooth forehead pinched downward. Waving a hand, Bucky, Sam, and Steve fly backward into the couches. “I will not harm you,” he says evenly to the confused men as he turns to you, your face slack with surprise. “You were praying,” he says quietly.

A vivid red burns through your cheeks, your eyes instinctively dropping to the floor, trying to hide the burning embarrassment.

“You are hurting” he says worriedly as he yanks you upward, placing a cool hand on your forehead attempting to heal you.

You shrug him off, clicking your tongue with annoyance. “Stop it! I’m fine, Cas. Where are they?” you ask peering behind the couch, expecting a Winchester to jump out any second.

He frowns anxiously, attempting to drag you back toward him.

Shrugging off every attempt, getting pissier by the second, you finally bark, “Enough, Castiel! Where. Are. They?”

He sighs and cocks his head to the side, finally relenting. “They are preparing to leave the Bunker. Dean wishes for you to come home,” he says quietly.

You groan loudly, earning raised eyebrows from Bucky who until this point had been staring at Cas like he was mildly concussed. “I’m not going back, Cas. You know I can’t. Not after…” Swallow thickly, you turn your back on the Angel.

He grunts, knowing the story. He’d been dead, albeit momentarily, but Sam had filled him in on the blanks. It wasn’t a pleasant tale. He could smell the anxiousness wafting off you.

“Lisa and Dean-” Cas begins only for you to hiss at him, eyes darting between him and Bucky.

“This is not the place for this discussion. Go back to Moose and Squirrel and inform them I do not need, nor do i want,  their help. They need to stay the fuck away from me! In fact, I think all the men in my life need to back the fuck up. I do not need you!” you spit venomously, eyes trained firmly on Bucky who flinches at the acid in your tone. You look back to where Cas was standing not a second before, seeing nothing but air. Sighing heavily, stamping your foot petulantly, you drag your hand across your face.

Steve snorts, gaining your attention. “Best start explaining, (Y/N) .”

Tags: Under the cut

Keep reading

13 Reasons Why (Tape 2)

Characters: sister!reader, Dean, Sam, Crowley, mention of John, readers mom

Warnings: blood, angst, death, swearing, blackmail

Word count: 4775

Summary: Dean listens to tape two and learns the truth about what happened to your mother. His suspicion grows as he finds out more about who is and who isn’t part of the reasons why.

A/N: sorry I’ve left you waiting for so long but part two is finally here!

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You ran inside your old house, it felt strange to be home. But that’s where this place was… Home. Your place with John was never a home, it was just a motel; a room with four walls. That’s not what a home meant to you, it was a person more than a place. That person to you was your mom and you needed her now more than ever.

When you opened up the door you had expected her to be on the couch watching a movie or something. The TV was on, however she wasn’t there. Your mom would never have left the TV on and gone to bed, so where the hell was she? You shut the door behind you and checked in the living room once more.

Heading up the stairs you heard the noise of the TV from her room. Why would the upstairs and downstairs TV be on?

“Mom?” You called out, but there was no answer. “Mom, it’s me, Y/N… I’m sorry, things didn’t work out with John.”

You walked into her room and saw her foot hanging off the end of the bed. You figured she must have fallen asleep while watching TV. You smiled as you thought of her peacefully laying there and not having to worry about anything. You wanted to cover her with a blanket but as soon as you walked in, you saw something you weren’t prepared for.

Everything stopped for a moment, you couldn’t move or breathe. Not a single sound came from your mouth, you just stood there and stared at her lifeless body covered in blood. “No.” The short word just about escaped your lips. Your throat was dry and you still couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if it was fear or shock doing this to you but it was as if you had been frozen on the outside yet your mind was screaming on the inside.

Then the smell hit you. That smell your brothers and father had told you was an instant alert of demons. Sulphur.

“Fuck. No, fuck fuck fuck,” you finally screamed now that your body finally let you move. “Mom?” You sobbed as you moved forward and held her body close to you. You didn’t care that you were getting blood all over your clothes, all you were desperate for was to bring your mother back. “Please wake up!”

You laid her back down on the bed and looked down at her. She looked so… Peaceful. That’s not how someone should look when they’re dead, should they? Before you could even begin to think of a way to fix this somehow, a voice spoke.

You jumped and turned around to see a man in a black suit, an evil grin plastered on his face. “Hello, love,” he spoke in a British accent.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you a demon?” You snapped as you stood away from your mom. “Did you do this to her? I swear I’ll-”

“Yes, I know. You swear you’ll kill me and bleed me out and blah blah blah blah,” he interrupted. “And I’m not just some demon, little Winchester. I am the king of hell.”

* * *

“Crowley. Welcome to your tape,” you revealed.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had no idea that Crowley was the demon that killed your mother. Now that Dean recalled it he realised that you never really gave details on who killed your mother. But why?

“Not only did you destroy my life by taking my mother away from me, but you also made sure I could never tell anyone it was you because you knew my secret. You held that secret over me to make sure that my family never came after you for hurting my mom… I kept you safe to keep myself safe,” you explained. Dean fidgeted in anger and anticipation. “But now I’m gone, I’m dead and I don’t have to keep my secret anymore… Now I can let it out on this tape that you are the one that murdered an innocent woman. But when people know your motive, well, that’s the real twist in this story.”

Dean had so many questions about this. He had mixed emotions: he was confused, angry and intrigued. Crowley being the one that murdered your mother wasn’t the twist of his story? What the hell could his motive have been? What could you or your mother had done to make him want to hurt you so badly? But if Dean needed answers, that’s what the tapes were for.

“So, Crowley,” you said in a sassy voice, a voice that Dean missed so much. “Let’s begin with my secret.”

* * *

“I know who you are, Y/N,” he smiled. “We just need to have a chat, my names Crowley.”

“I don’t fucking care who you are,” you spoke dangerously low through gritted teeth. Tears of anger and sadness slid down your cheek as you talked to him. “I wanna know what the hell you’re doing here, what happened to my mother?”

“All in good time, darling,” he smiled evilly. As much as you wanted to just jump forward and kill him, you needed answers. The fact that you had just lost your mom failed to sink in, the mixture of rage and sadness was more towards the fact that something bad happened and it was out of your control. Right now, talking to Crowley was the only way to take control of the situation.

“We shouldn’t talk here,” Crowley insisted. With a snap of his fingers you were gone from your mothers bedroom; you appeared in a humid room full of people with black eyes. Crowley simply raised his hand as a motion for them to leave and they did it right away, no questions asked.

So maybe this guy really was the King of Hell, he had such a power over everyone. He walked over to a large, black throne and took a seat where you stood a few feet away from him. It felt like he was your King and you were bowing down to him but there was no way you would ever bow down to this asshole.

“Why did you bring me here?” You demanded.

“We need to discuss things. There are reasons I killed your mother, and there are reasons you can never tell your brothers or your father. They would kill me,” he explained.

“That’s exactly what I want,” you spat through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing you can say that will stop me from telling my brothers that you are the one that killed my mom.”

Now, now,“ he spoke confidently. “There’s a little more to it than that, Y/N. I know things… Things you wouldn’t want your family to know about you.”

“And that is?” You questioned, you had no idea what it could have been but there were so many options. You had a lot of secrets and a lot of bad history. How would Crowley know about any of them?

“Do you remember-” he stood up from his throne, walked down the step and towards you, “-that night you were drunk, we spoke in the bar.”

Now you started to remember him. You were so drunk that night you didn’t even think about who you spoke to. He circled around you as he continued to explain the story. “Drunk girls really like to open up about their feelings, especially the feelings about their daddy’s that leave them.”

What the hell did you say about John? What was Crowley talking about?

“I remember you,” you said with a shaky voice. “But, I didn’t talk about John. You just helped me out of the bar and back to my motel room, then you left. That was it.”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” He asked with excitement in his voice.

You stayed still in your place as Crowley continued to walk around you in a circle, time and time again. “I do- I don’t- I don’t remember.”

“You really don’t remember the fact that you wanted to kill John Winchester?” He questioned and now it all hit you. You remembered the whole night. You remembered that you told Crowley about hunting, thankfully he already knew about it or you would have revealed it to someone who might then start telling everyone. You thought back to sitting in the bar and telling Crowley your whole life story; how you father left you; how your mother was all you had; the fact that you were bullied for questioning your sexuality all through school; the amount of times you had sex with countless people just because you wanted to feel something other that hurt. He knew everything.

* * *

“You knew everything about me, didn’t you? You made sure you did your research before hurting my family so that you could cover your back. When we met in that bar… I thought you were kind. I guess I always made judgements too quickly.”

Once again, Dean paused the tape. Instantly, Crowley was a dead man walking. There was no chance that Dean would let this dick get away with it. But then he remembered the message at the beginning of tape one, you said there is someone making sure they always listen to the whole thing. Maybe this person watching is also making sure Dean or whoever is listening can’t react by hurting the others.

Dean stepped out of his room. He left the tape in the player but put the rest back inside the box so he could find them easily for the time he listened to them.

John, Mary and Sam were all in the library and looking for a case. “Hey,” Sam said as he noticed Dean. “I think we found us a case.”

“It was Crowley?” Dean snapped, changing the subject of the conversation completely.

“You’re only on the second tape?” Mary demanded. “What’s taking you so long?”

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean replied.

“I listened to it in one night the first time,” Mary revealed. The first time? She listened to it more than once?

“We need to have a life outside of these tapes, okay?” John intervened. “Look, Sam has found us a case and we haven’t been on a hunt in weeks. I say we go check it out.”

“Not all of us need to go,” Sam said as he held his laptop in his hands and looked at the case. “You two can just go, I can tell you’re eager for a hunt. I can find another one for me and Dean.”

“Sure, we’ll take this one,” Mary agreed. “I’ll go get some stuff for the road,” she told John before walking off.

Sam walked away with Mary and said it was to help her pack things but Dean was sure it was so they could talk about the tapes. He looked over at his dad who was slouched in the chair; he must have been drunk again.

“Why are you all so fine with these tapes?” Dean demanded. “Why have you all listened to them and never brought them up? Why aren’t they affecting you?!“

“Dean, they did affect us. And no one on these tapes could tell anyone anything, Y/N said it was part of her legacy to be the one to tell everyone how they ruined her life,” John explained as he stood from his chair. He pushed himself up by leaning his hands on the table. He was barely fit to drive, Dean had no idea how he was going to hunt.

“We’re family,” Dean snapped. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything!”

“We used to the first time around. But since your mother and I came back, things have been different.” John shook his head as he walked past Dean to go and find Mary.

Dean shouted before John could leave, “what about Sam?”

“He’s not even on the tapes!” John hissed. “He was the first one to listen to them and now he’s making sure all of us do too.”

Dean was taken aback by what John had revealed. Sam isn’t on the tapes. Sam is the one that you talked about on the tapes when you said the people listening are always being watched. But how did Sam know what to do? Did he know that you were going to kill yourself and not stop it?

Dean had too many questions running through his head. He wanted to ask John about it but if he tried to speak a jumble of words would just pour out like vomit. He waited to speak to Sam, he wanted answers right from the source rather that trying to get more out of John.

Once your dad and Mary had headed off for the hunt, the boys were left alone in the library which gave Dean the perfect opportunity to ask questions.

“Dad told me that you’re not even on the tapes,” Dean revealed.

Sam was shaken by what Dean said. He knew he would eventually find out, but never this early. He hated that he would have to explain this all. “I can explain.”

“Did you know?” Dean questioned which left Sam a little confused.

Sam stared at his brother with furrowed brows, “did I know what?”

Dean had to take a second to realise what he was accusing him of. Him and Sam had done some terrible things over the years, but suggesting that he knew you were going to kill yourself and letting it happen wasn’t something he would do. Never. His eyes darted to the floor, he was trying to think of what to say but it didn’t matter; Sam figured out what he was implying.

“No,” Sam shook his head. “No, you can’t accuse me of that, Dean. Of course I didn’t know she was going to kill herself, do you really think I wouldn’t have done everything I could go stop her?”

“I know,” Dean agreed. “But that doesn’t explain anything, Sammy. You’re not on the tapes, but you were the first person to listen to them.”

“Y/N left me the box with a note on the inside,” Sam began to explain.

* * *

The box was sealed and ready. You made sure Sam busy in the kitchen before hiding in the drawer in his room. He wouldn’t need to go in there until tomorrow when he changed his clothes which meant he wouldn’t find the tapes until you were already dead… He wouldn’t find them before it was too late.

It was hidden under a few of his shirts to be sure that if he did go in the drawer to put something away he wouldn’t be able to see it. When you left his room, you had a quick thought, something changed inside of you and you started to believe that maybe you could beat this.

You pushed past it. You couldn’t let that get in the way of everything.

* * *

“A few days after she… Took her life,” he stuttered as he looked down at his hands. He tapped them against the table nervously. “I found the tapes in my drawer. Inside was a note, she explained about the tapes and that I needed to listen to them and make sure everyone on the tapes heard them. She wanted me to make sure that no one could hurt each other until everyone on there had heard them. I have the note here if you wanna read it.”

Sam pulled out his wallet and dug out the note. He held it and looked at it for a few seconds before passing it to his brother.

Dean took the crumpled, folded piece of paper and held it in his hands. “I don’t know if I can. Not yet. Can I keep it for a while?”

“Sure,” Sam nodded. “As long as you need.”

“This note is instructions on what to do?” Dean asked.

“She said it’s her only legacy…” Sam replied. “She wanted me to pass it on for her.”

“Why are you?” Dean questioned. “Why not just kill everyone on the tapes?”

“Because there are people on there that I care about. And Y/N begged me to not do anything until everyone had heard the tapes… I owe it to her to make her mark,” Sam explained. He stopped tapping on the table and moved his hand to his mouth where he nervously bit his nails. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he felt awkward and weird. He finally just folded his arms over his chest and stood still.

“People you care about are on there? What about Crowley?” Dean snapped.

“We can do something about Crowley when you finish the tapes. You’re the last one on there,” Sam told him.

“The last one? So everyone else on there has heard them?” Dean asked but he already knew the answer.

Sam nodded. He didn’t want to answer anymore questions because what you wanted was for people to know your story through the tapes.

“I just have one more question. Just one more,” Dean promised.

Sam looked up from the floor and back over at Dean; he noticed how serious his face was. Sam knew he wouldn’t be prepared for whatever question was going to follow, but he never knew those words would leave Dean’s mouth.

“Did I kill Y/N?” His hands shook as he asked the question. He knew he would have to listen to his tape, but he would have to wait through everyone else’s first.

“We all killed her,” Sam replied, avoiding the real answer.

“That’s not what I asked,” Dean spat. “Sammy,” he spoke in a sad voice, “after listening to these tapes, and knowing what you know now, answer me that. Did I kill our little sister?”

Sam paused as he stared at his older brother. Dean had never looked so broken or damaged. There was no point in lying because Sam was a terrible liar. Dean knew what the answer was.. But he just needed to hear it. “Sam..”

“Yes,” Sam finally said. “Yes… You did.”

Dean just nodded. He heard what he needed to hear, that one simple word summed it all up for him. He was at the end because he was the final reason.

“But Dean, it doesn’t mean you did it on purpose.” Sam tried to convince him that somehow this wasn’t his fault. “It was just what happened, there was nothing you did or could’ve done… It was just the final straw that drove her to the edge.”

“She’s dead because of me,” Dean concluded.

“Dean!” Sam shouted because his brother wasn’t listening to him. “I already told you. We all killed her.”

There was no reply. He just walked off and went back to his room to listen to the tapes. Dean knew it wasn’t just his fault, but the fact that he even had a part to play in this all was something he would never forgive himself for.

Back in his room, he picked up the tape player on his bed, put the headphones back on and played the tape again. It was like an endless cycle. He felt like all he was doing was listening, leaving his room, listening, leaving his room. Maybe after this tape he should go on a hunt… Even if it’s just a hunt for Crowley. Dean is the last guy on the tapes, Sam said so himself. So if Dean went after Crowley it wouldn’t stop your story from being passed on.

He held it in his hands and once again pressed play.

“So now you know, Crowley, that the people on these tapes will find out that I did want to kill my own father. Everyone knows my secret, now it’s time they knew yours. You do remember why you killed my mother, right?”

* * *

“Why did you do it?” You cried. “What did she do to you?”

“Your mother had a lot of secrets,” Crowley revealed as he stood still in front of you. “There were a lot of things about her that you didn’t know, love. It’s even one of the reasons she wanted you to go live with daddy.”

“No,” you shook your head. “She sent me to live with him because she wanted me to know my father. She always said that a girl should think well of her father.”

“Not that you ever did, considering you wanted to kill him,“ he replied sarcastically.

“You’re still not answering my question,” you hissed. “What the hell could my mother have done to make you do this?”

“Your mother,” he said with power in his voice, “was a hunter.”

“What?” You demanded. “No! She had no idea about hunting, she would never have sent me to live with John if-”

“She sent you to live with John because she wanted you to have knowledge of the life,” Crowley interrupted. “And the reason she couldn’t be the one to teach you was because she was going to do the trials.”

“The trials? You mean like- like the ones that Sam-” you stuttered. “Like when Sam was going to close the gates of hell?”

“Exactly,” he nodded before walking back to his throne and sitting down. “She was going to destroy this place, I couldn’t let my kingdom go down.”

“It wouldn’t go down it would just be closed meaning demons can’t get out! You hate earth anyway, why would you want to stay? You had no good reason to kill her!” You screamed as you stepped closer to to him. You swore that for a minute you put the fear of God in him. “You fucking asshole!”

“I did what I had to do!“ He shouted back. “Your mother became a hunter when John left you because she wanted to protect you from demons.”

“Exactly, she wanted to protect me!” You screeched through tears of anger. “She was a kind woman who wanted to help the world and you killed her so you could feel powerful… You did it so that everyone in hell didn’t know that you are weak, Crowley.”

He knew that everything you were saying was true, but he couldn’t put up with it. Not if he wanted to keep up his image as this big, scary King that ruled hell. He pushed his hand out and as if by magic you flew back into one of the pillars. When you stood up he was standing directly in front of you with a knife pressed against your face. It dug into your skin and cut along your cheek, causing you to whimper.

“If you speak a word of this to any of the Winchesters, and I mean any of them, I will feed them to my hell hounds and make sure you’re the last one and that you suffer. And even before that your secret will get out and they may even try to kill you themselves. It’s not like you ever fit in with them anyway,” he growled. “Do not try me, Y/N. I’ve already killed someone you love, you weren’t there to stop it. Don’t let it happen again.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and you were back in your mothers bedroom. The warm blood was dripping from your cheek and onto the floor. Your moms body was gone, the only thing to show that she was once there was the pool of blood on her sheet. He must have taken her to hell when he sent you back home.

Now you just felt numb. Nothing could happen to change your mood right now. Someone could literally come running at you with a knife and you would just let them. You didn’t care at all because at least you would be feeling something.

The only thing you had left now was going back to live with John. You didn’t want to; the only plus side was that you would get to live with your brothers again. You didn’t really know what to feel about Mary yet, you hadn’t known her long enough but you had a strong feeling that she didn’t like you.

You rummaged through your backpack and found your phone. You called the only person you thought you could trust right now. Sam.

You clicked on his name and waited. After three rings, he finally picked up. “Hey, Y/N. Look, I’m sorry about what dad did to you, I know that he regrets-”

“Sam,” you spoke. Your voice was at a low tone, the kind that if someone spoke in that way anyone would know something was up. “Sa- Sammy.”

“Y/N? What’s-”

“It’s my mom,” you sobbed. “She’s, she’s dead.”

“Y/N, where are you? Stay right where you are I’m coming to get you. Dean!” He shouted to his brother. You heard a door open, Sam must have stepped outside when you called. “Get the keys we need to go get Y/N.”

“Sam,” you cried. “I- I don’t know what happened. It smells like sulphur so it must have been a demon… But I don’t know who.”

“Did you see the demon?” Sam asked as you heard the Impala door shut and the engine roar. They were on their way. “What did it look like?”

“I don’t remember… It cut across my cheek with a knife but everything just happened too quickly,” you lied. “I just, I need you to come here and get me.”

Sam stayed on the phone to you until they arrived. Once they were there they broke the door down and ran upstairs to find you in your mothers room. “The demon took her,” you told them as they came in.

Dean held Ruby’s knife in his hand firmly as he moved around her room to see if anyone was still there. He then walked out of the bedroom and went to look around the rest of the house. You weren’t paying attention to what Sam was doing until you felt his body weigh down the bed next to you.

You both sat next to each other on your moms bed in silence. Anything he said wouldn’t have been enough, so he wrapped his arms around you from the side and held you close. That’s all he could do and the comfort was what you needed. Sam and Dean were the only people left that you considered as family.

It felt like all you could do was cry in the arms of you big brother and hope that his comfort would be enough to not only help you through losing your mother, but help you forget that you have to lie for the man that murdered her.

“This is all my fault,” you whispered.

“No, Y/N don’t say that,” Sam replied as he kept his arms around you. “This isn’t your fault. I promise you are going to get through this. We love you.”

You simply shook your head. “I don’t deserve to be loved.”

* * *

“You ruined my life Crowley,” you concluded. “Have you ever heard that saying, ‘keep your mouth shut and your eyes open’? Well, that’s what I did all those years. I thought my brothers would figure it out, because sometimes silence speaks more than words. But they never did… So now that I’m dead I don’t have to keep my mouth shut. And my eyes may not be open anymore but I’m glad that I can open everyone else’s to what you really are. I can open yours to what you really are. A monster and a coward.”

And that was it. That was the end of tape two. Dean knew what Crowley had done to hurt you and he had never been more angry. Rage took over his body as he thought about that accent in a black suit destroying your life and forcing you to lie to your family. Crowley didn’t just break your family, he broke your trust which meant you never felt safe with trusting someone ever again.

Those were issues that followed you until the day you died. You were hurt and alone and that was all the fault of Crowley. The worst thing Dean realised was that there were 11 tapes left of awful things that people had done to you.

He would have to sit through even more of these and know that people had hurt you and he didn’t do anything to stop it. He would have to listen to everyone else’s tapes.

But worst of all, at the end of it… He would have to listen to his.

Tags~

@weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @chloemwinchester @mydarkxsoul @reyna-809 @it-is-too-hard @wolfshifter4life @uselesspotatonoodles @anonbyblog @the-freaks-struggle @novopsi @stop-it-ew @caitsymichelle13 @drbagels123 @craving-cas @herbscottie67 @alira100 @queenpammy13 @supernatural-fangirl13 @hayleighloatx @thelocalunicorn @ayleenw @little-castiel13 @girl-next-door-blog-blog @fandomtrasshftw @to-stars-and-back @musical-potterheadss @amazing-fandom-freak @peachyxiu @garnet–shadow @harleenq4life @fangirlpastel @hugs-and-star-wars @wayward-girl @spontaneousam @forevershadeddark @sonofabitch-spn @deanandsamsbitch @starshininginthedark @wheresthekillswitch @the-impala-to-my-dean @icesprintstring @justcallmemrsbarnes @newtthesalamander @midnighthunter13 @mikealsonlover @imincastielsarmy @jediviolet @fangirlingfanatic2442 @percussiongirl2017 @sandmanland @donnaintx @iwriteaboutdean @insane-hamilton-imagines @fanboyswhereare-you @highonpastries @annabethgranger123 @miss-miep @damiansbeloved @mandylove1000 @the-amaranthine @winchesters-favorite-girl @itsssmichelleee @notmoose45 @nieleben

Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Pt. 6 ❤️

A/N: Omg you guys are gonna hate me! *cries hysterically* This was so hard to write because of major feels, but i promise it’ll get better! Borky is a good dude ok and he will make it all better lol. I hope y’all like it! Enjoy! - Delilah  ❤️

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Major feels. Get a tissue, you’re gonna need it. 

Series Masterlist

Keep reading

Old Friends [j.j]

Originally posted by alinok

Title: Old Friends
Fandom: Riverdale
Characters: Jughead Jones x reader, Archie Andrews, mentions of Betty Cooper, mentions of Veronica Lodge, mentions of Jason Blossom
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2,237
Requested: Yes, by anonymous.
Short Description: After an argument regarding all the time Jughead spends on his writing, you want nothing more than to go to your ex-best friend Archie for advice.
A/N: Thanks for your request! I’m glad you enjoy my other story and hope that you like this one too x

Disclaimer: not my gif

[Y/N] = your first name
[Y/L/N] = your last name
[Y/F/M] = your favourite movie

The first time that Jughead brought his laptop to your Pop’s date, you didn’t object. Jughead was, in his own way, an artist. He had a visible impulse to create, which you could undoubtedly understand. So when the both of you ordered your food, you were okay with Jughead typing away on his laptop, humming in agreement every few minutes as you talked. It was evident that he wasn’t paying attention; that he was enticed by his own thoughts as he attempted to put them to paper. And that was tolerable.

But it had been a few weeks since Jason Blossom went missing at Sweetwater River on July 4th, and Jughead had yet to spend some real time with you. Everywhere he went, that laptop was beside him and he whipped it out whenever he could sit down.

“Hey Jug,” you instigated as you were both sitting in the projection booth of the Twilight Drive-In. It was your one year anniversary with Jughead and you had resolved that you were equipped to tell him that you were in love with him. Of course, it was somewhat noticeable to anybody who knew you that you were completely smitten with Jughead. But the both of you were still young and so saying those three words could theoretically alarm Jughead. So, you had picked out your loveliest dress and styled your hair in neat, loose waves for the special occasion, letting Betty and Veronica help you with your choices, and put your big girl attitude on. You could do this. But your confidence had completely wavered when you arrived at the drive-in, only to see Jughead already on that laptop of his. “Why don’t you pick another movie if you don’t like this one?” you suggested, as he had devoted the entire time writing instead of watching Y/F/M with you.

Jughead neglected to glance up from his screen as he replied. “No, this is fine.” You frowned at how nonchalant he was being. He clearly didn’t care at all that the occasion seemed special to you.

 “Fine,” you echoed inaudibly to yourself. “I’m glad that it’s… fine.” Of course, Jughead neglected to hear you mumbling to yourself so he just hummed in agreement before going back to typing, eyes narrowed at the laptop in front of him.

So, you sought to converge on the movie. Y/F/M was a film that could continually put you in a good mood, but it seemed that its charm had worn off, as your enthusiastic mood was reduced to ashes. You glanced down at the bucket of popcorn that had been utterly untouched between you and Jughead, hoping that it might interest you now, but the buttery goodness still didn’t feel very appetising. “Jughead, we really don’t have to watch a movie.” You tried, feeling terribly secluded despite how romantic and intimate the setting was. Your boyfriend said nothing, so you shifted your body to face him and placed your hand on his shoulder. 

Keep reading

things to say before it’s too late / clay jensen

title: things to say before it’s too late

warnings: depression, suicide, lowkey angst

word count: 1022

note: first writing?? i think hell yeah.


Hannah’s suicide. It hung in the air like rain clouds that refused to let down the torrential water, dark and looming and huge. Her sudden death hit the town like a hurricane; nothing like that ever happened in their small world. Many had been shaken in the impact, only few had been injured by the shrapnel that splintered from her bomb.

Clay scowled mournfully at the incredibly fake memorial in the hall for his late friend. If anyone was a true friend of Hannah, they’d know she hated roses, Mrs. Baker had told Courtney Crimson. She thought they were a cliche. The one flower that stood out amongst the various shades of red roses was a delicate bouquet of baby’s breath, white and fragile.

Everyone had known you were a friend of Hannah, close enough and nice enough to have never done anything to hurt her, intentionally or not. Clay knew that you were such a way that it hadn’t warranted you a place in the girl’s thirteen tapes and it surprised him; practically anyone who had ever come into any contact with her at school had been given a side of a tape.

The boy’s gaze turned away from the table of flowers and candles when a locker slammed uncharacteristically shut. You stood, tears welling up in your eyes as you examined the monument from your own place across the hall. These students didn’t care; they hadn’t cared when she was alive, so why would they care now? Clay couldn’t tell if your tears were from your anger at the student body of Liberty High or your sadness over one of your only friends taking her life. He decided that it was both when you stormed away, allowing the doors to slam behind you.

The two of you had met through Hannah. You had shown up at the Crestmont to surprise her at work and see the movie you had been wanting to see before it was out of theaters. The girl introduced you to Clay and you hit it off. You three talked in the halls, exchanged answers on homework for classes you shared, had a stupid group chat where Clay talked shit about low budget sci-fi movies he had seen on TV and you and Hannah laughed at his rants.

He was close enough to you to know that you weren’t okay. This was taking a toll on you just as it had done with Olivia Baker. He had realized his mistake with Hannah and, at the end of the day, knew that it was just as much his fault as anyone else’s. He needed to reach out this time, stop somebody from doing something to themselves that they couldn’t reverse, so he followed after you.

He wasn’t surprised to find your car parked out at Eisenhower Park, your eyes staring blankly across the playground. You jumped when he knocked on your window, but nodded and gave him permission to join you. The space was silent aside from the harsh blow of the air conditioner and the radio playing some slow ballad. It seemed like twenty years before Clay spoke any words.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice quiet and unintentionally wavering.

“I’m… okay,” you replied, tensing. He knew you weren’t, everyone knew you weren’t, so why were you telling such a white lie in front of the only person who knew you better than Hannah.

“Stop.”

You turned your head sharply, so much so that Clay was worried he’d given you whiplash or something. Your eyes blazed, though he couldn’t determine an exact emotion.

“Stop what?”

He squared his jaw and narrowed his eyes. You couldn’t tell if this was his way of showing his anger at you or building up the courage to say something.

“Stop telling me you’re okay.”

That’s what took you aback; those five words made your eyes widen, blink in rapid succession, trying to analyze what his motives were behind his sentence.

“What-”

“Every time I ask you how you are, you say that you’re okay, that you’re fine when it’s obvious that you’re not. A-And I don’t mean to sound rude, but it’s worrying me,” he started. “I refuse to sit here and watch another person I love unravel themselves and do something they’ll regret because I was too afraid to reach out and help them. If-If I had said something to Hannah, let her know that I was here for her, maybe I could have stopped her, but I didn’t because I was scared. I’m not going to let you do that to yourself, too.”

More blinks. Clay was smart, intelligent, attentive. He knew how to read emotions, facial expressions, body language. He knew that you were hurting, that this whole situation was breaking down your mental health and sending it into a spiral of depression. You sat there bugged-eyed, not knowing how to respond.

“Clay, I…”

He was blinking away his own tears, sad and angry and melancholy. Here the two of you were, breaking down in the crisp cold air of your car’s AC unit, tearing up and wanting to reach out to each other.

“[Name], if I would have just let her know-”

He was choking on nothing, his throat was closing up; you leaned across the console, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“It’s okay.”

He was sobbing, his wet hitting and soaking through your shirt sleeve.

“I can’t lose you, too. I’m here and I want to be here for you. Just don’t leave like she did.”

You were both crying now, holding each other tightly and trying to soothe each other through your own wet eyes. It was some consolation, some sort of reckoning force that brought you back from those thoughts. Seeing what Hannah’s departure had done to her family and the friends she had left behind was heartbreaking, it wasn’t something that you could ever do now that you thought about it.

Your fingers curled and gripped onto Clay’s jacket, bringing his warmth and comforting scent closer to yourself. “I won’t. Don’t let me go please.”

“Never. Never in a million years.”

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Get ready for all the fluff and Sherlock speaking French! 

Read on AO3

                                                __________________

Johns pushes the front door open, letting out a loud sigh and rubbing one hand over his face. He’s tired, hungry and wants nothing more but to curl around Sherlock and let the exhaustion of the day fade away. He knows there is a high probability Sherlock isn’t even home right now, most likely out seeing Lestrade about the case they’ve been working on for the past three days. John shakes his head, smiling as he heads up the stairs. Somehow it feels strangely normal to think he’s going to spend the evening of Valentine’s Day alone at the flat.

It isn’t that they’ve never celebrated it, and John can only remember too well their first Valentine’s Day together. Sherlock had (stupidly) thought John would love something ridiculously romantic and over the top, and after the third romantic cliché, he had made sure Sherlock knew there was only one thing he needed for Valentine’s Day and that it involved a certain detective naked in bed. Ever since, they had celebrated in their own way, not always with a gift but with small gestures and affections.

Heading directly for the kitchen, John calls Sherlock’s name once, twice and only hears silence. Considering sending a text, he goes to put the kettle on and that’s when he finds the first note, right next to his mug. He frowns, immediately recognizing the language but digging into his high school memories to understand what’s written.

J’aime savoir qu’il y aura toujours une deuxième tasse de thé

à remplir lorsque je me l ève le matin.

John catches the words tea and love , but gives up on understanding anything else. Sherlock must be working on some experiment, and it’s not the first time he’s switched to some other language. He stares at the note, waiting for the water to boil, and is vaguely certain there’s also a morning there. He pours himself some tea, careful not to spill any on the note, and gets some biscuits.

The second note is on his chair, and John rolls his eyes as while he sits down. French again, and this time John realises it starts the same as the previous one.

J’aime te voir assis ici quand je joue du violon, tes yeux fermés

et ce sourire  réservé juste pour moi sur tes lèvres.

He fidgets with the notes, staring at Sherlock’s handwriting and trying to guess by the force of his will to decrypt what he wrote down. Violin isn’t hard to understand, and there’s love again. John frowns, moi is me , right? Letting out a loud sigh, John looks around the flat, suddenly wondering if there are more of these notes, and his eyes find the one pinned to the wall above the sofa immediately. He stands up, setting the one still in his hands back on the chair and rushes to the other side of the room.

J’aime le fait que tu restes un mystère.

Un puzzle que je ne résoudrai jamais.

Mystery? Puzzle?

John isn’t so sure about the meaning of these notes again, and tries to remember if Sherlock talked about any new experiments lately. There was the one with the nails, and the one with their bed sheets, but John is fairly certain both were finished already. Sherlock hasn’t mentioned a new one, and certainly not a new one involving so much French.

Love , again. Could this be…

Keep reading

Inked

Originally posted by sonsofanarchy-jaxteller

Originally posted by wcaohtbltorsoaff

Request: Imagine Jax overhearing you talk to Lyla about how you won’t get his crow because you think its unfair that the guys don’t get anything so Jax surprises you.


♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

Jax wiped his hands on the rag before using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.
The afternoon was warm to say the least, the peak of summer upon them and all day Jax had been working in the yard.
Opie was helping him while you and Lyla lazed in the air conditioned haven of your living room while you helped Lyla plan the wedding. Only the two of you seemed to be doing more gossiping than actual wedding planning.
The boys were just about to head inside when Jax raised a hand, signalling Opie to stop.
“What?”
“They’re talking about us.”
Opie rolled his eyes and tugged his shirt off over his head and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow while Jax pressed himself against the wall so he could hear more clearly.
“Jax was complaining to Ope again.”
He heard Lyla say, and although he couldn’t see you Jax knew you well enough to know you’d be rolling your eyes.
“What’d I do now?”
Lyla laughed. “You won’t get his crow?”
“Oh that, nah I told him no.”
“Why? Y/N do you know how many girls would kill to have his crow?”
The sound of your laugh rang out.
“Yeah yeah, lucky me.”
They both giggled.
“I just think it’s unfair, you know.”
“How? I have Opies.”
“Does he have a tat for you?”
“No.” Jax could hear the frown in Lylas voice and he slowly began to realise your reasoning behind your refusal to get his crow.
“I love the crows, I do. But I just think the guys should get something to show their loyalty to us too, ya know.”
Jax pushed away from the wall and turned to Opie who had found refuge in the shade.
“Done eavesdropping?”
Jax grinned and nodded.
“Do me a favour? Ring Happy, get him to come down.”
Opie nodded. “Can we go inside first, before I die of heat stroke.”
Jax grinned and they both walked inside.
You let out a wolf whistle as the boys entered the house, both shirtless and glistening with sweat.
Lyla laughed and jumped off the sofa and headed to the fridge, she pulled out two beers and offered them to the boys.
“You two wanna earn some extra cash?”
They turned to you, where you sat in the middle of the floor, a half empty bottle of wine next to you and a goofy smile on your face.
“What have you got in mind, darlin?”
“Wanna be the strippers for Lylas bachelorette party?”
Opie and Lyla laughed while Jax shook his head and walked towards you.
“That’s something I only do for you.”
You bit your lip and stood up slowly.
“Oh yeah?”
Jax nodded as he licked his lips and pulled you in for a kiss, his arms wrapping around you.
“GET A ROOM!” Opies voice bellowed and you both laughed and pulled away.



Two days had passed and you were draped across the sofa waiting for Jax to come home.
He had been busy with the club all day, which you were used to. But you weren’t used to how distant he had been with you.
You tossed your phone in your hand as you chewed your lip and every so often you stopped to check the time.
What was that saying about a watched pot never boiling?
After what felt like forever, but in reality was only an hour, the roar of Jax’s Harley echoed down the street.
You sat up and turned the tv off.
Gemma had drilled into you the unspoken ‘rules’ of being an old lady. But you weren’t like the others. You demanded respect and loyalty and in return you gave it back and you loved with every inch of you. You devoted your life to Jax and the club and you never asked questions when it came to club business. But this wasn’t club business, it was affecting your relationship and you wanted answers.
You perched on the edge of the sofa and waited for Jax to enter the house.
You heard the door shut and the thud of his sneakers hitting the floor as he kicked them off.
“Hey darlin,”
That token Jax Teller Smile was plastered all over his goddamned perfect face and you threw him a glare.
He stopped in his tracks and eyed you cautiously.
“What’s wrong?”
“You tell me.” You said coldly.
When he gave you a blank expression you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest.
“You’ve been avoiding me for the last two days, Jackson. What the fuck is going on?”
A ghost of a smirk crossed his face and he carefully pulled the kutte off his shoulders and draped it over a chair.
“You can’t avoid my questions by getting naked. Not this time.”
This time he did smirk and he pulled his white tshirt over his head.
A gasp left your lips and you leapt off the sofa when you saw the white bandage taped to his chest.
“Are you okay? What happened?!”
You stopped in front of him, your face full of worry and panic and you ran your fingers over his sculpted torso, careful not to touch too close to the wound.
You looked up at Jax and his earlier smirk had faded and was now replaced with a strange expression that you couldn’t quite place as an evil plan formed in his mind.
“I got shot.” He whispered.
Your eyes filled with tears and you lifted your hand to your mouth.
Oh my god!
You pulled him carefully to the sofa and pushed him to lay down.
Panic was rising within you and you began to fuss over him, shifting the cushions on the sofa to make sure he was comfortable when he grabbed hold of your wrists.
“Babe I got shot,” He said.
“I know baby, oh god, have you seen Chibs? Are you in pai-”
“With your love.”
You froze. You lifted your gaze up from the white bandage to his blue eyes and found a spark of amusement within them.
“What?” You muttered.
“I got shot with your love.”
He flashed you a winning smile, his perfect pearly whites shining almost as brightly as his eyes.
You leapt of the couch and pounded the cushion in your hands against him.
“What the fuck, Jax!”
He laughed and grabbed hold of your wrists once more, seizing your soft attack and tugging you down onto the sofa.
“Look.”
You glared at him but watched as his hands released your wrists and moved to the bandage.
He carefully lifted the edge off his chest before pulling it away with one swift movement.
Your eyes widened as you took in the fresh ink on his skin.
Mirroring his ‘Abel’ tattoo on his chest was your name, delicately tattooed with intricate detailing on each letter.
The skin around it was still red from the rawness of the ink but you didn’t mind, your eyes sparkling with tears of pride as you looked at it.
“You like it?”
You met his gaze and before you could respond the cruel mess of his trick crossed your mind. He needed to be taught a lesson.
You shook your head.
“Jax I was gonna break up with you.”
His eyes widened and his face fell and it took everything you had not to break into a grin and admit your lie.
“What?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he glanced down at the now permanent reminder of you across his chest.
“Yeah,” You nodded, unable to keep a straight face for much longer. “I’m just kinda sick of your sculpted abs and perfect cheekbones, and don’t even get me started on your huge d-”
His lips crashed against yours and only your laughter broke the kiss.
“Your awful.” He whispered against your lips and you smiled and pecked another kiss.
“So are you. It’s why I love you.”
He pulled away, a look of pure adoration on his face.
“Will you get my crow now?”
You nodded excitedly and Jax jumped off the sofa and scooped you up into his arms.
He threw you over his shoulder and carried you down the hallway and you let out a squeal as his hand slapped against your ass cheek.
Your mind racing with all the ideas for your new tattoo.

♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔♔

@i-want-to-be-watered-by-roger @daniehelene27 @homicidalteenagedream @hellsmurf96 @yourcroweater @jasonmccannsgirl8699 @i-am-the-luna @aworldwideapart @jaaxsoadeaanspn @trinasoftballgirl @thejulietfarciertlove @coffeebooksandfandom @kacilove26 @seninjakitey @blacnekos @thewifeofsethrollins @docsangel @eternalmikaelson @middle–fingering @shan-xoxo @supernaturalanarchy

Balance // H.S

This was requested! Request here

-

Plot: Y/N is a musician, and according to all of you and H’s mutual friends, the female version of him. Then, when you two meet - onstage of all places. The chemistry is too strong to ignore.

-

You had just finished your live performance on The Late Late Show with James Corden. You take a big drink of water, as he walks over to you. The taping ends in a few minutes, and they called for a break.

“Y/N! You smashed it out there!” James says as he grabs a water bottle off the table. “I wish you could’ve been on the week Harry was hosting.”

This is the second time he’s mentioned this.

You try to not roll your eyes or let out a groan as the conversation somehow drifts back to the man you’ve never met. Harry Styles. Of course, you know who he is. Who doesn’t know who Harry Styles is?

“James.” You say in a voice, you were hoping sounded threatening.

He just shrugs. “Oh, come on. You know I’ve been trying desperately to have you two meet. I think you’d get along brilliantly.”

You’ve met all the other members from One Direction, except for Harry. Not because you were trying to avoid him. But, because you’ve just never had the opportunity. There was this one party, he was supposed to show up at, but canceled due to his flight being delayed.

You had even meet his sister at that same party. You two got along great. She was probably the only one who didn’t compare you two, and you loved that.

“I can’t promise you, we’ll meet.” You say, placing your half empty water bottle on the table. “But, maybe someday.”

Turns out, a week later was that someday. Your fans freaked out on twitter once they realized you were playing the iHeart Music Festival the same night Harry was playing. What no one saw coming was the impromptu duet that happened onstage.

Turns out the iHeart Radio twitter page ran a poll on who Harry should duet with, 50% of the money made would go to helping out Mexico after the earthquake. The poll ended two seconds before it was supposed to happen, yes, it was done on purpose. It also seems your manager, just happened to forget telling you he agreed to it for you.

“Y/N, onstage in 2 minutes. You’ve won the poll. Congratulations.” A woman in a headset said as you stood up.

You look over at your manager who shrugs apologetically as you walk towards the door.

“What are we singing?” You ask your vocal teacher, Drew.

“Sweet Creature. You know it right?”

You nod, as your handed your microphone.

“And the winner of the poll is,” you hear Harry announce onstage. “Y/N! Come on and join me onstage.”

The crowds roars as you step out, trying to not look as nervous as you feel. You give a small wave, as you walk over to Harry who’s taller than you imagined.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, not that it isn’t new, it just feels different this time.

He takes off his guitar, “You can have the honors of playing my guitar, I know how great you are at it. I’m a huge fan of yours.” He says as he places his guitar on you. “The notes are right there, they practicality repeat themselves.” He points to a paper taped on the floor.

The duet didn’t go as bad as you’d thought. The notes were pretty easy, and Harry made it easy for you to sing along. He tried to make it as easy for you as he could, and you appreciated that.

After, coming off stage with a bow from the whole band. You tried to not focus on the fact that Harry held your hand, before you both walked in opposite directions.

Five minutes later, as you were getting your makeup retouched for your set in an hour, there was a knock on the door. Your manager answers the door.

“Y/N, it’s for you.”

You look into the mirror and see Harry standing there, his hands behind his back, waiting for you to let him in.

“He can come in.” You nod to Joe.

“Hey, just wanted to say you were amazing out there.” Harry said as he walked over to your vanity.

“Thank you, and thank you for letting me play your guitar.”

Every time your eyes met his, it felt like everything kind of just blurred in the background. You figured you were just tired from rehearsing. So, you shrugged it off.

“She’s a beauty, first guitar I’ve ever bought.” He says, leaning his tall figure against the counter sprawled with makeup all over it.

“Anyways,” He continues. “I watched you on James Corden the other night, you were amazing.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Let me guess, he called you a few times telling you to watch it.”

He let’s out a small smile. “He told me he did the same to you when I was on.”

You laugh at the memory of James calling you at almost 12 in the morning telling you to watch his show, it was an emergency.

“What is it with him?”

“It’s not just him.” Harry says, folding his arms over his chest. “There’s about five people blowing up my phone right now asking if we met before going onstage.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m strangely happy my phone’s dead.”

He smiles again. You can’t help but think how attractive he looks when he smiles. His eyes seem to get brighter when he does.

“I’m just happy I can tell Gemma we met. Hopefully, she’ll leave me alone. She kept bugging me, telling me I had to meet you.”

You laugh. “James can finally leave me alone. He keeps calling me the female version of you. Which I don’t know if it’s a compliment or not.”

He smirks, “Trust me Y/N, it’s a compliment. Anyway, lovely meeting you. I have an interview to do, and wanted to stop by to tell you thank you. Maybe we can hang out sometime soon.”

You nod, “Sure. Then, everyone can finally sleep at night.”

He gives you a quick hug before telling you goodbye. You notice everyone in the room is staring at you with an unreadable expression on their faces. You notice Lou walked in, you met her at a party Gemma invited you too.

“What?” You ask as you take a seat back in the makeup chair.

Lou shrugs. “He’s never been that chatty before. It’s… new.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, as your hair stylist come up to retouch your hair.

“No, Y/N, I mean it. He seemed really comfortable with you, and he just met you. That’s unlike him.”

“Oh, puh-lease.”

“Lou has a point.” Joe spoke up. “You’ve never been that chatty either. It almost seemed like you two were flirting.”

“Joe, you haven’t flirted in 30 years.”

“Okay, everyone.” Drew spoke up. “Let’s let her focus on her set for tonight. We can talk about their chemistry after. Because we do have all night, might I add.”

You groan. Seems like everyone else can sleep in peace, besides you.

**

Hi! I really want to write a pt . 2 in Harry’s POV and I don’t know why.

part 2 is here!

laughter and the smell of sugar twirled in the air and the lights of the festival twinkled like colorful, bulbous stars. those lights seemed to shine in alec’s wide, childlike eyes as he drank it all up, an awestruck smile on his face that made magnus’ heart sigh and the urge to kiss him almost unbearable. he pulled him along and through the crowd, alec’s hand cool and a huge contrast to the warm tokyo atmosphere. the absolute wonder that alec was exuberating was so endearing and sweeter than the ice cream cone he was currently eating.

Keep reading

You Are My Heaven Pt 1 (Steve Rogers Fic)

Characters: reader, Steve, Sam, Natasha, Tony (mentioned), Clint (mentioned) Maria Hill

Summary: Falling for a good man, who happened to be her training partner, was unavoidable. Does the reader have the courage to find out if he feels the same way? What if he doesn’t? Life rarely unfolds the way we hope it would. (Events take place after CATWS)

Warnings: lil fluff, lotta angst. Heartbreak. I’m sorry. 

Word Count: 2.8k

Song Inspiration: A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope

Tags are at the bottom

A/N: This one hurt. Once again, I drew from my own personal experiences, so it took a lot out of me to write. I hope you enjoy it? Part 2 will be out in a few days, I promise! It’s already written and will be the last, with a possible epilogue. Please let me know your thoughts! Special thanks to @buckyywiththegoodhair for reading this over! You’re a darling! 

Part One   Part Two>>>

Masterlist

_______________________________________________________

Originally posted by rdytocmply

Stupid heart.

Stupid feelings.

Stupid brain for putting you in this situation.

Stupid gorgeous, muscled Super Soldier who just had to be working out right in front of you with his God-like physique and sweat glistening on his handsome brow.

At this point, you had no choice in the matter. You were too far gone. Resistance was futile.

“You know, you could just tell him,” muttered the red-headed former assassin beside you.

You scoffed, “Who? About what? I mean, I don’t…what’re you…”

Unimpressed by your less-than-convincing response, Natasha caught your eye and raised an eyebrow. She knew.

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, you conceded. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

A snort of laughter escaped you, “Why? Because he’s Steve Rogers! Captain Freaking America. It’s not gonna happen.”

She shrugged, “You never know unless you try.”

Keep reading

Writing Workshops: An Introduction

If you want to study creative writing–whether in high school, college, or outside of a typical school setting–you’ll undoubtably find yourself in a workshop. 

Writing workshops can vary wildly, but the basic premise is this: one writer shares their work and silently listens as a room full of other writers judge it. 

Depending on the instructions the people in that room are given, their experiences with workshopping, and their own writing know-how, workshops can either be be scary, unhelpful, humiliating, and downright depressing, or amazing experiences that fundamentally improve your ability to write. 

I’ve been workshopping for ten years– in high school, undergraduate, and graduate classes, and in informal workshops among friends.

Today, I want to share what I’ve learned over those ten years, because I believe that there’s no reason for a workshop to ever be a bad experience.

This is a bit long, so under the Read More you’ll find:

  • How to Workshop Someone Else’s Story
    • Reading a piece for workshop
    • Discussing a piece in workshop
  • How to Deal with Other People Workshopping Your Writing
  • An Example of a Not-So-Helpful Critique
  • An Example of a Helpful Critique
  • What to Do If You Find Yourself in a Hostile Workshopping Environment

Keep reading