i wish i would have bought this when i had the chance

Want to know me better? Send me any number!
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The Reason I Don’t Do Cold Readings Anymore…

by reddit user Skarjo

I don’t do ‘Cold Readings’ anymore. I don’t tell fortunes. I don’t read tea leaves.

And I do not do contact ‘the other side’.

Look, don’t judge me alright? It was an easy gig. I mean, the first time I did it, it was a joke. I did it just to impress a girl. You’ve been there right? It was something I’d read about online and I thought I’d give it a go.

Keep reading

confession time, here’s what i got

Summary: In which Otabek and Yuri pine for each other a lot, and manage to drag other people into their own problems. (otayuri week day 1! prompt: confessions, otayuri, side pairings viktuuri and saramila, word count: 4095)


Otabek figures out that he loves Yuri when he is twenty-one.

It’s during Yuri’s nineteenth birthday, too. His plane lands exactly at midnight, and he’s rushing to get his baggage as quick as he can to meet his best friend. He sees him the moment he claims baggage – it isn’t hard to miss his long hair or his leopard jacket – and he stretches his arms out as Yuri bolts over to him.

In the next minute, he has him in his arms, and he hears a cheerful, “Beka!” in his ears, and, oh, he realizes. He is in love.

Keep reading

Jewel In The Crown (M)

florist!kihyun, 15.1k, he knows what beautiful is but he’s also a bit jealous and has shitty friends

warning: smut (kihyun is a virgin, his first time, oral for both, slightly dom!kihyun i guess??)

“You look really nice by the way…Ignore that. You look beautiful. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

Originally posted by wonhontology

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want to know me better? send me a number! (:

(theres like 200+ on here lol. got it from another tumbler, credz to them 💜)

1: My name?
2: Do I have any nicknames?
3: Zodiac sign?
4: Video game I play to chill, not to win?
5: Book/series I reread?
6: Aliens or ghosts?
7: Writer I trust enough to read whatever they write?
8: Favourite radio station?
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10: The word that I use all the time to describe something great?
11: Favourite song?
12: The question you ask new friends to get to know them better?
13: Favourite word?
14: The last person who hurt me, did I forgive them?
15: Last song I listened to?
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18: Movie I watch when I’m feeling down?
19: Song that I always start my shuffle with/wake-up song/always-on-a-loop song?
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89: Kindle or real book?
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92: What was my favourite subject at school?
93: Siblings?
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95: How tall am I?
96: Can I cook?
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113: Favourite accents?
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115: Favourite number?
116: Can I juggle?
117: Am I religious?
118: Do I like space?
119: Do I like the deep ocean?
120: Am I much of a daredevil?
121: Am I allergic to anything?
122: Can I curl my tongue?
123: Can I wiggle my ears?
124: Do I like clowns?
125: The Beatles or Elvis?
126: My current project?
127: Am I a bad loser?
128: Do I admit when I wrong?
129: Forest or beach?
130: Favourite piece of advice?
131: Am I a good liar?
132: Hogwarts house / Divergent faction / Hunger Games district?
133: Do I talk to myself?
134: Am I very social?
135: Do I like gossip?
136: Do I keep a journal/diary?
137: Have I ever hopelessly failed a test?
138: Do I believe in second chances?
139: If I found a wallet full of cash on the ground, what would I do?
140: Do I believe people are capable of change?
141: Have I ever been underweight?
142: Am I ticklish?
143: Have I ever been in a submarine?
144: Have I ever been on a plane?
145: In a film about my life, who would I cast as myself, friends and family?
146: Have I ever been overweight?
147: Do I have any piercings?
148: Which fictional character do I wish was real?
149: Do I have any tattoos?
150: What is the best decision I have made in life so far?
151: Do I believe in Karma?
152: Do I wear glasses or contacts?
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154: Do I want children?
155: Who is the most intelligent person I know?
156: My most embarrassing memory?
157: What makes me nostalgic?
158: Have I ever pulled an all-nighter?
159: Which do I value more in others, brains or beauty?
160: What colour mostly dominates my wardrobe?
161: Have I ever had a paranormal experience?
162: What do I hate most about myself?
163: What do I love most about myself?
164: Do I like adventure?
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172: Do I trust easily?
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177: Do I remember my dreams, and what is one that comes to mind?
178: An experience that has made me stronger?
179: If I were immortal, what would I do?
180: Do I like shopping?
181: If I could get away with a crime, what would I choose to do?
182: What does “family” mean to me?
183: What is my spirit animal?
184: How do I want to be remembered?
185: If I could master one skill, what would I choose?
186: What is my greatest failure?
187: What is my greatest achievement?
188: Love or money?
189: Love or career?
190: If I could time travel, where and when would I want to go?
191: What makes me the happiest?
192: What is “home” to me?
193: What motivates me?
194: If I could choose my last words, what would they be?
195: Would I ever want to encounter aliens?
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197: Something I hated as a child that I like now?
198: Zombies or vampires?
199: Live in the city or suburbs?
200: Dragons or wizards?
201: A nightmare that has stayed with me?
202: How do I define love?
203: Do I judge a book by its cover?
204: Have I ever had my heart broken?
205: Do I like my handwriting?
206: Sweet or savoury?
207: Worst job I’ve had?
208: Do I collect anything?
209: Item of clothing or jewellery you’ll never see me without?
210: What is on my bucket list?
211: How do I handle anger?
212: Was I named after anyone?
213: Do I use sarcasm a lot?
214: What TV character am I most like?
215: What is the weirdest talent I have?
216: Favourite fictional character?

Stefan Salvatore

Imagine : Liking Stefan, but him not liking you back. Then when Klaus takes a liking to you, Stefan realizes the chance he missed out on.

Originally posted by lifeofvampirediaries

You liked Stefan Salvatore. You couldn’t deny it. He was the perfect man, and you hadn’t wanted anything more than him. Yet, he was too caught up in Elena.

Even though Elena was one of your best friends, you hated how she had to play with both Salvatore’s like she was, especially since you liked Stefan. It hurt you to watch him hurt.

But you would never tell him that you liked him. No, that wasn’t ever a possibility. Stefan Salvatore would never like you back, and you had accepted that, no matter what. So you held your tongue like a good girl, and kept quite, suffering silently.

However, this enraged Bonnie. Bonnie hated watching you suffer from Elena, mostly because you were too sweet of a person to ever stand up to Elena and tell her off.

Bonnie, however, was not afraid.

So one day after school, when she was sure only Stefan was home, Bonnie went to the Salvatore home, knocking confidently on the door. Stefan answered it quickly.

“Bonnie,” he said. “I’m afraid that Elena is not here.”

“Not looking for Elena,” Bonnie said, stepping inside. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“I’m all ears,” Stefan said. “What did you want to talk about, Bonnie?”

“What are your thoughts on Y/N?” she asked, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

“My thoughts on, oh,” Stefan said, pausing slightly. “She’s a nice girl and all, Bonnie, but that’s sort of where it ends.”

“No romantic feelings for her at all?”

“None.”

When Bonnie had broken the news to you, you were heartbroken. And you had to admit, heartbroken over a man you had never even been able to call yours was extremely disappointing on your part.

You tried to go on with your days, smiling through the pain, laughing as if you weren’t broken, and joking around with your friends. Including Stefan.

But that night, as you sat in the Mystic Grill, you were approached by someone. You were getting drinks for you and your friends, yes one being Stefan. You were sat on a stool as you waited, your expression blank. It was these rare moments alone that you actually allowed yourself to become sad.

“A lovely woman like you should not be sad,” A voice said from behind you.

You shivered as you turned your head. This new stranger had a beautiful, British accent. He had bright blue eyes, pink, plump lips, a stubble around his jaw and a smile to absolutely die for.

You blushed under his gaze. He was beautiful, more beautiful than you had ever thought Stefan to be. “I’m not- I, I’m not sad,” you tried, failing miserably to make it believable, causing you to blush more.

He smiled at you, a genuine smile,before sitting next to you. “I’m sure that’s just what you want your friends to believe, right? Tell me dear, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know you,” you countered. “Why should I tell you?”

“Klaus Mikaelson, love,” he told you, grasping your free hand and kissing it gently. “May I know your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you whispered.

“Very beautiful name, dear,” he told you honestly. “Tell me of your troubles then, Y/N. I promise that I am good at listening.”

So you told him. Even after your drinks had come, you continued to pour your heart out to this man. And when you were done, he bought you a drink and you two continued to have an earnest conversation. You couldn’t deny that every second you spent with Klaus that afternoon, the more you forgot about Stefan Salvatore.

Then, as it drew later, Klaus walked you home, seeing as you had gotten a ride with Stefan, who you no longer wanted to talk to.

~~~

It had been weeks since you had met Klaus, and he had made it his goal to speak to you at least once a day, in person. Sometimes he would show up at your home unexpectedly, giving you a bouquet of flowers, kissing your forehead and wishing you a wonderful day before disappearing again. Sometimes he took you out, and the two of you would go anywhere and talk about anything. Sometimes, you would invite him in and you two would sit on your couch and enjoy each others company.

The more you learned about Klaus, the more you forgot about Stefan. But the more you hung out with Klaus, the more Stefan grew feelings for you, and became jealous when he saw you around with Klaus, laughing and smiling more than you ever had with him.

Since you had told Klaus all about your past feelings for Stefan, he grew painfully aware of his growing feelings for you. However, Klaus also had feelings for you, and he knew just how to sweep you off your feet.

You two were at the Grill that evening, talking over the most expensive wine available at the Grill. You had never been one for wine, but as Klaus sat beside you in the booth, laughing and letting you take sips from his glass, you began to love it.

Stefan was at the bar, watching the two of you. He had wished he had noticed his feelings before you met Klaus. He thought he might’ve had a chance when you’re heart wasn’t being spoken for by another.

But, he had waited too long, and it was too late.

You excused yourself from the table for a moment, Klaus nodded and smiling as you made your way to the restroom. Stefan took his chance, and approached Klaus.

Sitting opposite of him in the booth, Stefan began talking. “What are you doing with Y/N?”

“What ever do you mean, Stefan?” Klaus asked, a grin already on his lips. “I’m enjoying her company, as she is enjoying mine.”

Stefan nearly growled. “You’re only going to hurt her.”

“Like you did?”

That statement stunned him. He had no idea he had ever hurt Y/N, always trying to be the best friend he could possibly be for her.

“She’s told me all about it, mate. You were too in love with Elena, blinded by jealousy over her and Damon to notice our precious Y/N did, in fact, have feelings for you.”

Stefan began to stutter over his words now. “I, I never-”

“Never knew, I know. But, not to worry mate, I’m not as daft as you. I realize my feelings for her, and I also realize her feelings for me. I won’t hurt her, if that’s what your worried about. Not like you did.”

With that, Klaus shooed Stefan away, smirking as the younger vampire walked away.

Before he left the Grill, he looked back at the table. You had returned, and Klaus was gently holding your chin in his hand, talking to you. Stefan listened as you giggled, the sound like music to his ears.

However, he had to look away when  Klaus kissed you, you easily kissing back, just as passionate.

Originally posted by miraculoo

2 | Freak

BTS X READER [COLLEGE!AU | THRILLER!AU]

WORD COUNT: 7,114

series warnings: mature themes, violence, blood and gore, murder, emotional manipulation, bullying, mental health deterioration, eventual smut and substance abuse. this chapter contains strong language, light smut, bullying and claustrophobic themes

Originally posted by jeontrash

masterlist | ask | prev | coming soon


It had been a week since Yoongi’s party at Pearl, an entire seven days since your father had disappeared into thin air; and a whole one hundred and sixty eight hours since your brother decided to call the police, regardless of the anonymous threats. As much as you loved Yoongi you couldn’t shake the bad feeling away from your figure, the text message had very clear instructions. Don’t show the police, or people will die. And with your dad still missing it was impossible not to entertain the idea.

“Y/N? Hello? Are you in here?” Maggie, the Exhibit gossip forum’s editor in chief and your overall boss, flicked your forehead with her perfectly manicured bubblegum pink nails to regain your attention.

“I’m so sorry… What were you saying?” You hummed in an attempt to salvage the embarrassing situation, you had no idea what she was talking to you about, truth be told you didn’t even realise she was there until her acrylic nail was leaving behind a small indentation on your skin.

“The threatening mystery texts, your dad’s disappearance! It’s all just dreadful… Will you run it?” She hollowed her thin cheeks out until you could see a map of her high cheekbones as she raised her brows expectantly.

There was no denying she was beautiful, she had rich dark brown flawless skin and her hair was shaved short and dyed red, her winged eyeliner was sharp enough to cut someone and her fashion choices were beyond Lady Gaga’s wildest imagination. But unfortunately for her you saw right through her fur coats and fake personality, she was the head cheerleader who never grew up; she was a bitch.

“Wait so you want me to run the story… About my missing dad? And include the anonymous messages?” You paraphrased eyes wide with shock, dumbfounded by her complete lack of human decency.

Keep reading

Have You Seen This Painting of A Hallway?

I got this package in the mail from my dad: brown paper wrapping, large but flat, with the word “FRAGILE” written on it in black ink. When I unwrapped it, it was this big, acrylic painting, framed in some sort of bronze-gilded plaster.

The painting itself was of this long hallway full of doors, kind of like you’d see in a fancy hotel. The walls had edging about halfway up, the upper part was painted sort of an off white while the lower half was a crimson red that blended into the carpeting. Between each door was an up-turned light, as well as on the far wall at the end, where the corridor seemed to connect to another hallway running perpendicular to it, disappearing around a corner.

It was really amazing detail, though I wouldn’t call it life-like by any means. Just the sheer amount of intricate pieces to each aspect of the scene showed that the artist really paid attention to every little thing, like somewhere in the world was this hallway, and you could stand in it and hold the painting up in front of you and if it weren’t for the border and the clearly stylized art, you wouldn’t be able to tell where the canvas ended and the real world began.

I called him up and thanked him immediately.

“But where’d you find this?”

“I got it at an auction.”

I kinda figured as much.

So I hung up the painting in my office, just behind my desk, which I realized later wasn’t the best place for it because in order to actually look at it, I had to swivel completely around, but there wasn’t anywhere better really, and once I’d gotten it hung up, I felt less willing to take it back down, so I just left it there. It kind of hung out over my shoulder and watched me work, and every now and then I’d turn around and stare at it and get entranced by it, feeling like I could get up and put my hands in the frame and climb into the painting as if the frame were a window.

Of course, I wouldn’t be writing this if something weird didn’t happen as a result of the painting.

We had a couple friends over, Marc and Sabina, and Marc and I went into my office when the women-folk started talking about knitting, which has become my wife’s new favorite hobby. I went and sat down at my laptop to find a video I had been telling Marc about, and Marc wandered over and started admiring the painting.

“Where’d you get that?”

“My dad bought it at an auction and gave it to me.”

“It’s creepy.”

“It’s not that creepy. It’s kind of… I don’t know.”

“Hypnotic?”

“Yeah.”

I turned around to look at it with him while the video loaded. He got up close and was running his finger over the canvas, feeling the raised acrylic, and I just let my gaze wander over all the details again.

“Huh, I didn’t notice that before.”

“What?”

“At the end of the hall, there’s some sort of light coming from around the corner, and it’s casting a shadow on the floor.”

I got up and looked closer, because I really hadn’t spent a lot of time studying the far end of the hallway. There was definitely some yellow and some darker colors making what looked like the shadow of a person coming from around the corner. I even reached out and touched it to make sure it wasn’t some trick of the light in the study making it just look like there was this shadow in the painting, but I felt the paint and sure enough it was actually there in the painting.

“See what I mean?” Marc said, “Creepy.”

I genuinely felt weirded out by it. It was one of those moments where you start thinking, Why didn’t I notice this earlier? Was it there to notice?

A couple days later, I was working on a project in my study, and it was like 9:30 at night, and I just couldn’t focus, so I spun around in my chair to look at the painting and I felt this sudden vertigo effect, like the ground wasn’t there and I had to grab my chair to keep from tumbling into emptiness.

You wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t looked at the painting a hundred times like I had. The hallway was long, with exactly six doors. I remember, because I counted them the first day. three on the left, three on the right, each with a little shiny, metal doorknob.

Only now there were seven doors. Three on the left, four on the right. It didn’t make sense. Everything looked proportionally exactly the same, and the far end of the corridor was just as far away, and yet there was a fourth door in the right side of the hallway, with its little metal doorknob. I don’t even know which door was the fourth door, that’s how well it blended in, I just know that there were four doors where once there were three.

“What the hell is going on?”

I turned away in my chair and back to check several times and make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, but the number of doors remained constant.

I called my dad again and I asked him, “Is this a trick painting you sent me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it keeps changing. I can see it changing.”

“Not as far I know. It was just one in a bunch I picked up all at the same auction.”

After I got off the phone I took the painting down and checked the back for some some of mechanical or digital hocus pocus, but it was all soft canvas so I left it on the floor behind my office chair with the painting facing the wall because the thought of it was freaking me out.

The next day I pulled my wife into my office and held the painting up so she could see it because she hadn’t had a chance to before.

“How many doors are there?” I asked.

She looked it over for a moment. “Seven.”

“When I first got this, there were six.”

She just looked at me like I was being a goofball. “Okay, so which one wasn’t there before?”

“I have no idea.”

“You don’t know which door magically appeared?” and she laughed and gave me a kiss and went back into the other room.

It gets worse.

The next time I chatted with Marc, I told him about the extra door in the painting.

“Are you sure there weren’t seven doors to begin with?”

“Well, I would swear I counted six.”

“Well, if another one shows up, at least Melissa counted seven, and can confirm it then. You know what you should do? You should take a photo of the painting so you can prove it if anything else changes.”

What a great idea, so I got my phone and took a photo of the painting.

Two days went by. Nothing.

On the third day, I walked into my office and there was a man staring at me. Well, I mean… it wasn’t… I can’t say that it was a man or a woman. Hell, I can’t say that it was human. There was a shape at the end of the hallway in my painting. It was oddly lacking in the detail that the rest of the painting had, like someone had hurriedly painted it on. I even ran my hand over it to make sure it wasn’t fresh, that someone hadn’t actually come in and painted over my painting to drive me crazy.

It was really there.

And the look of it scared me more than anything else, changing painting included. I wish I could do it justice with words, but the best I can describe it is that it was human-ish, with legs and arms, but it seemed squat, or hunched, and lopsided, like someone had slapped a blurry Quasimodo onto an otherwise beautiful painting. You couldn’t see the details of its face, but you could see shading on it, defining really warped features. I was almost glad that there wasn’t more detail to it, except that it left just enough to the imagination to give one nightmares.

But I had proof! Here was proof that the painting was changing. So I brought up the file on my laptop to show my wife for comparison, only when I did, the figure was in the photo I took too!

At no point did I start questioning my sanity about all this. Something unnatural and terrifying was going on, so I took the painting out of the house and set it on the curb where we put our trash for pickup. I was so done with that painting.

Or so I thought.

The next evening, when I got home from work, it was gone from the curb. I figured someone had seen it and taken it home, and I waved my hands and said, “Good, now it’s someone else’s problem.” I went in, played with daughter, had dinner, put them to bed, and after watching a show with my wife, went into my office to check my email.

No, the painting wasn’t back on the wall. I made sure of that the moment I walked in the door.

But I got a message from Marc, asking if the painting had changed anymore, and I told him about the creepy new addition and also how I had gotten rid of the painting.

“Oh man, that sounds cool. I wish I’d gotten a chance to see it.”

“Well, I can send you the photo I took of it.”

“Cool.”

So I opened the image file.

The thing in the painting had raised its arms.

Before, you could only barely make out the arms hanging at its sides, but now both arms were raised up over its head, and its fingers were spread apart like it was waving hello at me. I think it was waving hello at me.

I zoomed in, as best as I could without pixelating the image, and the shaded contours of the face seemed stretched into a grin.

Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

I sent Marc the file, but the connection kept fucking up, so I put it in a folder on my dropbox account and gave him access to it.

“The file’s corrupted.” He texted me.

I tried to open it as well, but he was right. Every time I copied the image file, somehow it got corrupted.

“It must be the spooky magic.” Marc joked.

“This is no joke. I’m freaking out here.”

“Delete the file if it’s scaring you so bad.”

So I deleted the file.

But it gnawed at me, you know? The painting was still changing, in horrible, terrifying ways, seemingly acknowledging my observation of it, and now it was gone. But if it was gone, why should it matter? If something unholy happens, it’s the problem of whoever has the painting now, right? And they’ll see it changing too, won’t they?

“Oh shit.”

It was two days later, and I was organizing a folder of documents and had accidentally deleted a couple I hadn’t meant to. I went into the Windows recycling bin and –you guessed it– there was the image file along with the documents.

I had to look. I was trembling with dread at the thought of it, but when something so surreal happens to you, you have to witness it and see it through to the end.

I recovered the file and opened it.

The walls of the hallway seemed to be melting. The partition separating the red from the off-white was lower than it had been before, and drooped in places. The ridge on the lights looked like they were peeling off. The carpet seemed less crimson and more reddish brown.

And the figure had taken several steps down the corridor toward the viewer’s perspective. More details had become defined: hair hanging off its head, long and black like it had been painted with a fine-tipped brush, the eyes were little more than dull black points under the shading of the brow. The grin came with teeth, uneven and fat, like those of a child more than an adult. Its arms were extended out on either side of it, touching both walls. One foot was ahead of the other, as if I had caught it mid-step in a game of red light/green light.

I realized I was panting and shaking as I looked at it. It was really hard to breathe, an anxiety attack. The painting was going to make me pass out, just from looking at a digital photo of it.

Quickly, I closed the image to calm myself down, but that suddenly brought forth the thought, What if it progresses every time I look away? The only way to stop it is to keep looking! and I opened the file again.

No change. Oh– no, wait, that wasn’t a new change, I had noticed it before, but it hadn’t dawned on me. One of the doors was open. There was a dim blue light coming from the room inside, moonlight I thought. And just outside the threshold of the door, there was an object lying on the floor.

I zoomed in for better detail.

It was a little, yellow, stuffed lion with a scraggly, orange mane. A child’s toy. Of all the details, the melting hallway, the grinning fiend with arms wide open, the blue light from the open doorway, it was the innocent nature of that little toy lion that filled me with the most dread.

My wife came into the office.

“Come kiss Gabby goodnight.”

I went into her darkened room, where she was wrapped up in blankets in her bed, hugging a half dozen stuffed animals and looking cute as could be. My little darling. I love her so much.

I kissed my daughter goodnight. She kissed me back and hugged her little pillowpet with the built in night light. It glowed through a variety of colors.

“I love you, baby.” I told her.

“Can you get my Simba?”

I looked around. “Where’d you leave it?”

“Over there.” She pointed to the closet. The door was open, and her toy lay on the floor just inside.

Simba, her little, yellow, stuffed lion with the scraggly, orange mane.

Seeing it lying there, just past the threshold of the closet door, while the dim glow of my daughter’s night light faded from red to purple to blue, I felt my heart rise up in my chest. The closet was just a closet. I could see it was just a closet. There were clothes on hangers and bags with toys and blocks in them. They were right there. And yet, as I looked at the stuffed lion lying on the floor, waiting for me, I felt as if I could see carpeting on the floor inside the closet, even though there was none. Carpeting, not in my vision, but in my imagination. And maybe if I went in and shut the door, I’d find that the walls beyond those clothes had a wooden partition, red below, off-white above.

And maybe there was something hunched and terrible shambling its way toward us even as I stood there staring at that toy.

I walked, briskly, trying not to look half as frightened as I was, snatched up Simba and shut the closet door. My breathing was heavy, like I’d just run a mile, and I struggled to avoid gasping for breath as I tried to calm myself down.

“Hey, did that poster fall down?” I asked nobody in particular, then pretended I was trying to adjust a cat poster that had been on the floor by her dresser for months, and shoved the heavy dresser over so that it partially blocked the closet door.

“Here’s Simba, sweety.” I handed the lion to Gabby, gave her a quick hug and kiss, and wished her goodnight before rushing back to my office.

The painting had changed, as I knew it would. The open door was closed, the toy gone from the floor, the hallway was dimly lit with yellow light from the melting lights again. But the thing, that not-quite-human fiend, was standing right outside the now shut door, its body turned to face it with both hands pressed up against the door itself like it was running its hands down it, caressing it, and its head turned toward me, still grinning that awful, frightening grin full of gnashed, crooked teeth.

Oh God how close had it been? No, it’s just a closet! The hallway is not there. It’s not real. None of this is real.

I’ve put up signs around the neighborhood, knocked on doors, asked everyone I know and many I don’t if they know who took the painting. I need to find it and get it back. I want to tear it, shred it in my hands, throw it in a fire and watch it burn to ashes. Jesus God in Heaven, I hope it didn’t end up in some landfill.

I’ve learned the awful truth… All Doors Lead To The Hallway

Brother's Best Friend

Hello! Here’s a request I’ve been working on; I had fun with this one!

Request: @dragoncharmwitch - Could you make a text where you’re michael’s older sister and he finds out you fancy ash. And the boys set you up please :) // Sorry this one took so long!

Title: Brother’s Best Friend

Summary: When her brother and his friends find out that Y/N has a crush on Ashton, they decide to take action.

Words: 1k+

Warnings: Lil’ bit of language. Nothing horrible.

“Shit,” you mutter, digging through the refrigerator. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you turn around and run a hand through your hair. “Michael!” you shout. You wait a few moments and, when he doesn’t reply, you cup your hands around your mouth and yell a bit louder. “Michael!

You hear a muffled “What,” from upstairs and groan in frustration.

“You took the last bottle of water, you prick!” you call again, but you’re met with silence. Naturally, of course; you can only assume your brother is in his bedroom with the door closed, his music up loud, and his headset glued to his ears so he can talk to his friends as he plays his video games. “Moron,” you grumble to yourself, slamming the refrigerator door closed and grabbing your keys from the table. Looks like you’re making a grocery run. Oh, well. You need snacks, anyway.

You head to the door, but when you open it you yelp in surprise as you nearly collide with another body. “What the hell!” you exclaim, blinking in surprise before your gaze focuses on a face you know all too well.

“Well, hello to you too, Y/N,” Ashton says with a cheeky grin.

You roll your eyes and smile, shaking your head. “Move over, Irwin,” you tell him, and you can only hope your face isn’t as red as a tomato.

So maybe you have a tiny, little crush on your brother’s friend. You’re honestly not sure how someone with a working pair of eyes couldn’t have a crush on Ashton. The guy is gorgeous. Half of your grade drools over him, including you. You suppose you’re lucky that he’s one of Michael’s best friends, granting you opportunities to see him outside of school several times a week, although you never quite understood why Ashton hangs out with a bunch of kids in the year below him.

“Well, what’s the password?” Ashton quips in regard to your demand, crossing his arms. He unknowingly flexes in the process, and your heart skips a beat.

“The password,” you say, still smiling, “is back up before I make you.

Ashton lets out a laugh (you’re pretty sure a swarm of butterflies was just set loose in your stomach) and steps away. “As much as I’d like to accept your challenge, Y/N,” he says, “you’re awfully intimidating when you threaten.”

Your smile grows and you step out of the doorway, making your way down the driveway before turning around to glance at Ashton. You could swear he just winked at you before he walked into the house, but you tell yourself it’s just wishful thinking. Still, though, after you’ve settled behind the wheel of your car, you pull out your phone to text your friend.

To: Michaela

11:47am

Ashton Irwin just got here and the boy looks too good. I have actual tears in my eyes.

You add a heart-eyed emoji at the end of the message for exaggeration before you toss your phone into the center console and start up the car.

//\

“Honey, I’m home,” you mutter sarcastically as you walk through the door. You’re juggling a six-pack of bottled water and two grocery bags as you stumble into the kitchen, dropping everything onto the counter at the first chance you get. You hear laughter from upstairs and realize that Michael has a few other friends over as well as Ashton; probably Luke and Calum.

You set to work putting away the few groceries you bought and take a bottle of water for yourself. You hear footsteps behind you, and when you turn around you see Michael standing behind you. “Uh, hi?” you say with a frown. Your brother looks slightly puzzled as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Do you like Ashton?” he asks bluntly.

You blink, taken slightly aback by the question. “I—what? I mean, yeah. Obviously I like him. I kinda have to, considering he’s your friend and—”

“No,” Michael shakes his head. “Not like, platonically or anything. I mean it as in, like… more than platonically?”

A feeling of unease settles over you. How would he—

And then your eyes widen. You reach for your phone, quickly unlocking it and opening your messages. “Fuck,” you whisper when you realize that you didn’t, in fact, send your Ashton-related text to your friend Michaela, but instead to Michael. Damn them and their similar names.

You look up from your phone and notice that Michael is still there, standing awkwardly. “I…” you begin, trying to figure out the best way to word your next sentence. It’s no use lying at this point, you figure. Might as well admit. “I… find him… attractive,” you say, and it comes out sounding more like a question than anything else.

“You think Ashton is attractive?” Michael repeats, furrowing his brow.

“Yes?” you reply sheepishly, cringing slightly.

Michael shakes his head and you think you might die from awkwardness. There’s no way he won’t tell Ashton. Even worse, Ashton probably already saw the message. Shit, shit, shit, sh—

“I mean, coming from a straight guy, you’re not wrong.”

“Huh?” you ask, looking at your brother. Michael only shrugs.

“Ashton Irwin is an attractive male,“ he clarifies. “I’m straight, not blind.”

“Wait…” you begin, “so you’re not like, mad or anything?”

“I mean I’m not gonna lie, it kinda weirds me out,” Michael admits, “but in all honesty I think he’s sort of into you too, something I will never be able to understand—”

“Ha, ha.”

“—but, I guess it’s whatever. You guys flirt all the time and it’s kinda nasty, so Luke and Cal and I talked it over and figured we might as well help you guys out.”

At this point, you’re thoroughly confused. So, Michael is okay with the fact that you like Ashton? And he thinks Ashton likes you too? And he and his other friends are going to help you out? “What… what does that even mean?” you say skeptically.

“Just don’t worry about it,” Michael sighs. “It wasn’t my idea; Luke just thinks he’s a genius or something. I’m gonna go back upstairs now before I puke at the thought of you dating one of my best friends.”

“O-okay?” you stutter, watching as your younger brother heads back upstairs. You press a hand to your forehead and lean against the counter, letting out a deep breath.

What the hell just happened?

//\

“Y/N!”

You groan as you hear Michael’s voice from down the hall. You just got comfortable on your bed. “What?” you holler back.

You don’t receive a reply, and you groan again, closing your laptop and standing up from your spot. Stretching your back, you slowly pad your way down the hall to Michael’s bedroom. The door is closed, so you knock. “Mike, what the hell do you want?” you demand. You can hear laughter and gunshots, meaning they’re still glued to their video game. “Mi—” you’re about to knock one more time before the door opens to reveal your brother’s friend Calum.

“Oh,” he says. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi?” you frown, trying to peer around him into the room. “Why did you guys call?”

Michael materializes behind Calum and grins. “We sent Ashton into the garage.”

“Congratulations,” you deadpan. “Why, though?”

“We told him to find a ball. We want to play some pickup in the yard,” calls Luke from his spot in front of the TV.

“Cool…” you say, your frown deepening.

“We’re in the middle of a game, so could you just go help him?” Michael suggests, rolling his eyes.

You make a face of exasperation, letting out a sigh when you realize what’s going on. “Seriously, you guys?”

“Take the opportunity or leave it, Y/N,” says Michael. “Naturally I’d prefer for you to leave it, but I’m outnumbered.”

You look up at Calum and he shrugs, smiling innocently at you. “We just want to play some football.”

You close your eyes and press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Fine,” you say finally. “I will go help Ashton look for a ball.”

Without another word, you turn and head back down the hall.

//\

You wish you were wearing something other than sweatpants and a tank top as you step into the garage, where Ashton is rummaging through the piles of junk. “Need a hand?” you call, straining to see him.

“Huh?” his head pokes around from behind a cardboard box and he grins when he realizes it’s you. “Oh. Hey, Y/N. How’d you know I was struggling out here?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just had a feeling. I can always tell when there’s a damsel in distress nearby.”

Ashton stands to his full height and stretches. “Damsel in distress?” he asks. “I take offense to that. Very emasculating.”

“It’s the twenty-first century,” you tell him. “Nothing should be emasculating. But, if it makes you feel any better, Mike and the other guys told me to help you.”

“Ah, so they’re the ones who can sense a person in distress.”

“More-or-less,” you agree, stepping forward. “So, you can’t find a ball.”

“I’m afraid you’re correct,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair and glancing around.

You follow his line of vision, looking around the garage before your gaze lands on exactly what you’re looking for. “Well,” you say triumphantly, walking over to a box hidden behind Michael’s old bicycle that he’s used maybe like once in his entire life and reaching over to grab the black-and-white ball. “Clearly you didn’t look very hard.”

Ashton purses his lips and exhales through his nose. “Guess not.”

You giggle and walk back over to where he’s standing, holding the ball out. However, when he goes to grab it, you pull it back toward you. “You know, this is gonna cost you,” you snicker, looking at him with arched eyebrows.

“Oh, really?” he replies with a grin, stepping closer. In response, you take a step back. You nod, and his smile grows. “Well, what’s your price?”

“Hmm,” you pretend to think, tapping your index finger against your lips and looking up. “I think—” Before you can finish your sentence, Ashton lunges forward and grabs the ball. However, you had a strong grip on it and as a result, he pulled you forward as well. You end up a few inches away from him and laugh nervously, hoping your face isn’t growing red at the proximity. “You think you’re quick!” you remark, looking up at him and immediately wishing you didn’t.

The two of you hold eye contact for what can’t be more than one second before he speaks, but you’re like 80% sure it really lasts closer to five minutes (have his eyes always had that much green in them?), before he speaks. “Actually,” he says lowly, and you can’t stop your breath from hitching, “I know I’m quick.”

You steel yourself and tilt your head to the side in faux innocence. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you challenge.

“You want proof?”

“Yep,” you smirk. “Full proof, and maybe an essay written in MLA format with—”

Your sentence is cut off by Ashton’s hands on either side of your face and his lips on yours. You drop the ball, letting it bounce away across the concrete. You’re about to respond when Ashton breaks the kiss. “You talk too much,” he says, smiling at you. “How’s that for quick?”

You’re pretty sure you resemble a fish right now, your jaw dropping only for your mouth to snap closed, then fall open again as you try to process what the hell just happend. “Oh my god.”

Ashton’s expression changes to one of fear, maybe doubt, and he lets go of your face. “Wait, did I overstep?” he asks, taking a step back. “Shit, Y/N, I thought… should I not have…? Shit, I’m sorry, I—”

This time, however, you’re the quick one. Having (mostly) recovered from the first kiss, you don’t waste any time in closing the distance between the two of you, lightly grabbing the material at the collar of his singlet and pulling him toward you. “And you said I talk too much,” you say before leaning forward.

It feels nice to kiss Ashton. He’s good at it. The two of you break apart again, only to grin at each other and lean in once more. “You’re supposed to be bringing that ball up to the other guys,” you remind him against his lips, and he lets out a breathy laugh in response.

“They can wait a little bit longer.”

//\

To: Ashton

11:55pm

So where does this leave us?

You chew on your lip anxiously as your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, and you close your eyes when you tap it. The familiar whoosh of your message sending causes you to cringe. Do you sound desperate? Clingy?

Ashton and the other guys left about a half hour ago. The garage incident escalated to a brief makeout session before you and Ashton finally decided you were gone for too long. Exchanging awkward smiles, he left the garage and you followed a few minutes later. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

So now here you are, sitting on the couch while a movie plays on the TV and serves as background noise to your inner suspense.

Suddenly the telltale bubble appears on Ashton’s side of the screen, showing that he’s typing. “Shit,” you mutter. You close your messaging app and wait for his message to come through, and when it does, your heart lurches anxiously.

From: Ashton

11:56pm

You tell me, princess.

You roll your eyes before typing back a quick response.

To: Ashton

11:57pm

Don’t do that. You kissed me first.

From: Ashton

11:57pm

Fair enough.

He continues to type and your heart rate picks up. You look up at the TV in front of you. A clearly-suspenseful scene is playing out, and the lead character’s heartbeat is illustrated through the pounding of drums. Me too, you relate. A whoosh tells you that Ashton has replied.

From: Ashton

11:58pm

I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m into you, if you couldn’t tell earlier. And it seemed an awful like you’re into me, too. So, I’d like to act on this mutual interest, as long as you’re up for it.

You bite your lip again, but this time it isn’t out of nerve. You fight a smile as you type back.

To: Ashton

11:58pm

Sounds good to me.

To: Ashton

11:59pm

Oh, but you’re not asking me out over text. Just a heads up.

When Ashton’s reply comes in, you can’t help but kick your legs and laugh out of giddiness.

From: Ashton

12:00am

Wouldn’t have it any other way. Talk to you tomorrow xx

“You’re welcome, by the way,” comes Michael’s voice as he enters the room with a soda in his hand, plopping down on the recliner that rests diagonal from the couch you’re on. He takes a swig from the aluminum can and raises an eyebrow smugly.

“Shut up,” you tell him, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad. The smile on your face is more than enough proof.

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Missin' It

Masterlist

This was written long ago so unfortunately I am still indeed in my writing funk. My brain doesn’t seem to want to co-operate. Enjoy the Dad Harold feels. 


“I miss it.” The phrase was muffled by your chest were Harry had decided to rest his head for the night. His words were accompanied by slow strokes over your stomach, your t-shirt pushed up to bundle around your breasts. There was still a slight bump adorning the soft area, only being a month post-partum. Parenthood was…challenging, to say the least. It was no lie that there was no manual to raising a child, but you were proud of your efforts so far, considering you were first time parents.

“Miss what, baby?” The movements of your hand fiddling with the hair at his nape slowed and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. You were longing to bring your daughter to join you and Harry on the bed, but seeing as this was only one of the few moments of peace you and Harry have had together since her arrival, you decided she was best off in her crib that accompanied your side of the bed. Harry had complained numerous times, but shut up once you reminded him she could be on his side once he produced the right functions to feed her at 3am.

“The bump, an’ havin’ her close. I mean, I love holdin’ ‘eh, but I feel like she growing too fast. I wish we could just rewind.” Your heart burst with love and gratitude; you silently laughed at the fact he thought she was growing too fast. It had only been a month and she was still tiny, her clothes hanging off her frail body. You were watching her now through the gaps of the bars on her crib. She stirred every now and then and you held your conversation until she settled back down.

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Tom Holland Imagine: All Too Well

Summary: This is based off of the song All Too Well by Taylor Swift. So be ready for a sad ending… Im sowwy…

A/N: Idk why I wrote this tbh I didn’t need this sadness in my life…

Warnings: None

_______________________________________________________________________

“I walked through the door with you, the air was cold… but something bout it felt like home somehow…” 

 "Come on, love, you’re going to freeze to death!“ Tom called.

 I smiled at him and ran up the sidewalk to join him at the door of his parents’ house. Tom sat my bags on the ground and reached into his pocket to pull out his key. As soon as the door was open, the loud scream of Tom’s name filled both of our ears as his family came running around the corner to take in the rare sight of Tom Holland standing inside their home. 

Tom hugged all of them before turning to introduce me. 

 "Guys, this is Y/N. The love of my life.” Tom said with a wide smile across his face. 

 Tom’s mother smiled at me before pulling me into a loving hug. 

 "Oh, I can just tell you’re going to fit right in with us! Tom, take her bags up to her room! We’re going to give her a tour really fast!“ 

 I smiled at Tom before following his mother down the hallway. 

 "I told you they’d love you.” Tom whispered in my ear as he pressed a kiss to my temple.

 "Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place and I can picture it after all these days…“ 

 Tom’s hand held mine as we walked down the path. His other hand held the leash that Tessa was on. I pressed myself into his side as another cold strike of the wind hit us. 

 "I told you to bring your coat, love." 

 "I know, but it’s not that bad when the wind isn’t blowing. And besides, I have you beside me to keep me warm." 

 Tom smiled down at me and kissed my forehead as we continued our walk through the woods. Tom let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around me as I hugged his torso. We both walked in silence as the leaves began to fall around us. 

 "This is my absolute favorite time of year. It’s so beautiful, I could just stay out here and watch it all day.” I said. 

 Tom hummed in agreement. 

 "Well, as great as that would be, cuddling up by a warm fire with some hot chocolate is pretty great too.“ 

 I laughed and hugged Tom even tighter. Tom then stopped walking and turned to face me. 

 "I have to tell you something, Y/N…" 

 "Okay… what is it?" 

 "I-I love you." 

 I stared up at Tom in shock. Neither one of us had said those three words yet. I could tell Tom was growing anxious by my silence. 

 "I love you, too, Tom." 

 Tom’s smile grew huge and he pulled me into a kiss as the leaves continued to fall around us. 

 "Cause there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red cause you were looking over at me…" 

 "Why does Harrison have to live so far away from you?” I whined as we continued on the long drive towards our friend’s house. 

 "Because that’s the house his mum and dad bought.“ Tom whined back. 

 I giggled and reached over to turn the music up. I began to quietly sing the song that was playing in the radio. My feet were placed on his dashboard. Even though he hated when I did that, he had given up on trying to keep me from doing. Because I always did it. 

 "Uh, Tom? Why aren’t you slowing down? Tom! That’s a red light! Slow down!" 

Tom then hit the breaks as hard as he could so that we wouldn’t fly out and get hit by other cars. 

 "What was that all about?” I asked as I put my hands on my hips. 

 "Sorry, love. You’re just really beautiful. The wind was blowing through your hair and you’re voice, God your voice. I just couldn’t look away…“ he said as he began to blush. 

 "Alright, lover boy. Just pay attention to the road.” I said, causing us both to laugh. 

 “Photo album on the counter, your cheeks are turning red…" 

 Tom groaned as his mother continued to flip through the old photo album.

 "And here’s Tom after he lost his first tooth. He got so scared and thought he was dying! He woke up and screamed at the top of his lungs. It was hilarious!”

 Tom then stood up and grabbed the photo album from his mother. 

 "Please mum, not now!“ 

 Tom’s cheeks were bright red which made me and his mother laugh even harder. 

 "Well, I think you were very adorable, Tom.” I said as I leaned across and kissed his cheek. 

 The action only made his cheeks turn redder. 

 "Oh! I have to show you the one of him from the time he put my make up on himself!“ Nikki said as she raced off towards her room. 

 "NO!” Tom screamed as he chased his mom down the hallway. 

 "Cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light…“ 

 I had woken him up after I had a bad dream. Tom immediately took me to the kitchen to heat me up a glass of warm milk to help me go back to sleep. As we waited for the milk to warm on the stove, Tom pulled me into his chest and began to dance with me around the kitchen. 

 "And you can tell everybody that this is your song…” Tom quietly sang as he twirled me around. 

 Tom knew how much I loved this song solely from the fact that Ewan McGregor sounds like an absolute angel when he sings it in Moulin Rouge! Tom immediately became jealous the first time I expressed my crush on Ewan McGregor because he had played his son in The Impossible. Although Tom wasn’t as talented in Ewan, I loved his version a million times more because it was coming from him. 

 "Maybe we got lost in translation maybe I asked for too much… but maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up…“ 

 "Tom, I’m not comfortable with this… I want you to follow your dreams, but this is too much. Please, just be honest with me. Is it true?" 

 Tom stared at me. His silence was all I needed. I slid out from the booth in the coffee shop and began to walk towards the exit. As I reached the door, I turned to face Tom one last time. He had his head placed in his hands. 

 "I just wanted you to love me.” I said to him before I walked out. 

 “You call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest…“ 

 I hadn’t left my house in days. The thought of seeing Tom was too much for me to handle. I still love him. I think I always will. I felt my phone ring beside me and I answered it stupidly without looking at the caller ID. 

 "Hello?" 

 "Y/N? Thank god…" 

 "Oh.. hi, Tom." 

 "Listen love, I know I hurt you but she meant nothing to me. I love you. I will always love you. You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted! I was drunk and I hadn’t seen you in weeks and I was so lonely and she looked so much like you. I love you. I only want you. Please give me a second chance, I won’t let you down." 

 I felt a single tear fall down my cheeks as I heard his pleas. My heart was pounding against my chest, begging my brain to just forgive him so that it’s suffering could end, but I knew I had to stay strong and stick to my morales, because if I didn’t, I would lose who I am. 

 "Tom, never call me again." 

 And with that, I hung up. 

 "Time won’t fly its like I’m paralyzed by it, I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it…” 

 I spent what felt like years trying to fall back into my old life, but Tom was everywhere. His new success with Spider-Man had his face plastered on every magazine. I knew it had only been a few weeks since the phone call, but it felt like centuries. Tom had invaded my heart and I knew he would never truly leave it. I walked down the path that I had walked many times with him and Tessa. The same path where we first told each other “I love you”. I felt more tears slip from my eyes. I felt my heart break a million times more as I saw the leaves fall around me. Memories of the time I spent with him were constantly running through my mind, reminding me of what I had lost. I wish I had taken him back. What he had done was wrong, but if I hadn’t have been so stubborn I know we could’ve overcome it, but now I’ve ruined it. He’s probably already got another girl wrapped up in his arms, whispering all the sweet things that used to be for my ears only. He probably took her down this very path to tell her he loved her. He probably dances with her in the middle of the night and sings to her now. These thoughts ran through my mind as a constant reminder that Tom Holland was no longer mine.

Second Chance - Part 1

Originally posted by dailyevanstan

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: After the fall of SHIELD, The Winter Soldier slowly breaks through his HYDRA programming while on the run. As he makes his way out of America on foot, The Winter Soldier slowly rediscover himself, as Bucky Barnes. 

or, the story where Bucky decides to get reacquainted with his past his own way. 

A/N: This is different than what I usually do, but I’m really liking this style so far and I’m having a blast writing this. That being said, I really do appreciate any feedback you can give me on this, thanks!

Second Chance Masterlist

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The Love That Evades Is the Most Satisfying to Ensnare

Request: “Hey there!~ i was curious if I could request a Newt x Reader fic based off the song ‘Give Me Love’ by Ed Sheeran?? Maybe it’s like a one sided relationship, he fancies Leta (I know you just did a fic that includes Leta Dx) or Tina, and there’s Angst but fluff? Maybe it can end on a comforting note?~ (I love ur writing so much btw 💕)”

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 4130

Warnings: ANGST FUCKING HELL I LOVE ANGST but also a lot of fluff at the end don’t worry

A/n: wow this is longest fic I’ve ever written lmao pls give it some love if u end up liking it :^)

Originally posted by versacequean


Give me love like her,
'Cause lately I’ve been waking up alone

Looking at him hurt. It hurt to see him smiling, laughing at a joke she had told. He was happy, but it wasn’t with you. It could have been you, maybe in another universe it could’ve been. You would’ve spoken up about your feelings for your freckled friend, and he would’ve blushed and kissed you, then you would have become the most perfect couple, complementing each other in every tangible aspect, bettering each other while sharing a love that couldn’t be broken by the sharpest sword. And yet, here she had come. The edge of a blade, stabbed between your 3rd and 4th ribs, penetrating all the hope you had left.

The worst part about the pain was that it felt like a betrayal. Of course, Newt had never known about your undying love for him, and he probably would never know now. But somehow, every time you looked at them touching, kissing… you couldn’t get the image of the double-edged sword out of your mind. Two hands at the base, one belonging to each of them, pressing it into your heart until the hilt reached your chest. A blind boy, matched with a girl who always had a bird’s eye view on the situation. She knew you loved him.

What made it worse is that she was never harsh about it either. She knew how much you must’ve been hurting, even sending you sorry glances when she realized you were watching the two coddle. The final striking blow being that she was perfect for Newt, so much more than you could’ve ever been. Oh, how you wished so badly to be Leta. The smart, beautiful Leta, who had everyone wrapped around her little finger, whether she knew it or not. Many had painted her to be cruel, or even evil, but those were just rumours spread behind her back due to her reputation being quashed when she started her relationship with the “weird Hufflepuff boy”. Maybe she did have flaws, maybe. It was a maybe that you clung to, guiltily wishing that one day her flaws would overwhelm her many talents and gorgeous features, and Newt would come back to you.

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Fanfiction - Stealing Tomorrow (Chapter 7)

Just one more chapter to go! <3

Chapter 7 – Find Me

Edinburgh, Present day

Claire placidly munched her cereals – a bit soggy for her taste – as she inspected the cover of The Scottish Sun, frowning in concentration. The evocative headline occupied almost half of the front page, with a photo illustrating their cover story – “Murrayfield Hero ready to go home!”. The image – certainly captured by one of the first reporters at the scene – showed Jamie wearing his full firefighter gear, walking out of what seemed like the dooryard from Hell, carrying one of his men – probably unconscious - on the shoulder. The article promised more details and juicy revelations on page four (“From Broch Mordha to Edinburgh’s hottest”), page five (“Other legends on the Fire Department”) and page six (“The heartbreaking testimonies of Fraser’s braveness”).

“One would think that almost turning into crisped bacon was the fastest route to stardom.” She snorted to herself, taking a sip of rich and dark coffee. “I bet they are scavenging the Highlands for gossips about Edinburgh’s new sweetheart.”

The last couple of weeks had seen an increasing interest on Jamie’s persona by the media – the well-liked Station Officer with an irreprehensible career, respected both by men under him and by the ones in charge behind a desk; the lone wolf, by all reports divorced years ago, that refused all approaches from desirable women and seemed to wear an irremovable chastity belt; the loving son, who accompanied his crippled father until his death two years ago; the hunk,  spotted working out without his shirt on, delighting all women in the headquarters’ neighbourhood.  

Claire tried to avoid every conversation that contained even the slightest mention of Jamie – a considerable feat, since even the nurses continuously buzzed about how handsome and well-mannered he was.

After his shattering revelations – which had thrown Claire into a new spell of insomnia, which she used to get her charts up to speed – their conversations had consisted mainly of monosyllables and medical exchanges. She would check his drains; he would ask about a prevision to start physical therapy on his hand. She looked for signs of infection on his surgical wounds; he told her his pain was a four on a scale of one to ten. She compressed her lips, trying to avoid screaming at him; he said nothing, accepting her radioactive silence with the hopeless patience of a convict sentenced to imprisonment for the rest of his days.

Claire knew he was trying to give her time to process their conversation, before touching the subject again. His Fraser stubbornness, usually despairing, was serving him well in that instance.

Knowing his reasons had changed the starting point of their fallout – but not the outcome. He had tried to protect her and give her the life she was meant to live – and in that harrowing attempt, had failed to comprehend that, without him, every achievement felt void of its meaning. Jamie had used lies as a gift – and the unwrapping had broken both their hearts. Where once stood sadness and incomprehension, now rested anger and betrayal, pumping from her with every heartbeat, crushing her vessels with their intensity.

But the most unbearable pain, the one that kept her awake at night, was the undeniable desire to forget it all – to take him in her arms and cradle him against her repairing heart. To kiss him and feel him melting against her – to bite his lip and taste his blood, knowing it pulsed with her name. To hear him whisper his secrets and the truth in them.

“Bloody man.” She whispered, her fingers reluctantly caressing his picture. “What am I going to do with you?”

****

“Thank ye for taking me.” He repeated for what was probably the tenth time. “The lads were supposed to get me but they’re shorthanded as it is in the department.”

“No problem.” She replied shortly, driving through Edinburgh’s streets, immersed in the evanescent light of dusk. Claire had offered to take him home after his discharge from the hospital, using the employee entrance to avoid the questions and flashes of journalists. “At least this way I know you won’t do anything stupid with your hand, until you’re actually inside the house.”

“Hm.” He snorted with mirth, looking at his still- bandaged hand. “I’m just glad I’ll be sleeping in my own bed, without anyone waking me to ask if my bowels moved already or spooked by the beeping sounds of the wee machines.”

“Which way now?” Claire asked, softly tapping the steering wheel with her fingers, as they achieved a deserted crossroad.

“Left.” Jamie gave her a renitent half-smile. “Ye’ll keen the way from here, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Claire breathed out, a tight knot forming inside her throat. “I believe I do.”

The building of their old apartment was visible down the street, looking exactly as she remembered it – the earthy tones of the façade vivid, that used to remind her of the soil of her flowers, fertile and homely. Propelled by the sight, memories came rushing back, as if they had been expecting to be summoned just in the corners of her conscience, brutal as needles in the back of her eyes.

“I received half of the money when the apartment was sold.” She blurted incredulous, blinking furiously in the half-light. “The man who bought it was someone named Angus MacKenzie.”

“He is a friend.” Jamie said softly. “He sold it back to me as soon as the deal was done.”

“Why would you want to live in this place?” Claire asked nervously, brushing back some of her curls, which had been falling over her face. “After everything that happened?”

“You were still here.” He whispered in a hoarse voice. “In a sense. The mattress of our bed had the shape of your body carved. There was the wee spot on the kitchen’s wall, were tomato sauce spilled, because we were too busy making love on the floor. The curtains ye chose, because ye never had such a house before, and a true home needed proper curtains.” Jamie looked at her, his eyes soft. “This house is everything I had left of ye, Claire. I couldna leave it.”

“You should have burnt it.” Claire hissed, fighting back the surge of emotions that made her vulnerable to his words.

I don’t want you anymore.

I loved you well.

She parked the car in silence and helped him getting out, prescinding of the assertive tenderness she usually applied to every wounded creature. They slowly climbed up the stairs – the elevator being broken again – until the third floor, the former residence of a happy newlywed couple.

Jamie opened the door with his keys – he still used the same keychain, Claire noticed, of a leaping stag shaped in silver. She had offered it to him, on their first Christmas together.

“I need to use the bathroom.” He smiled shyly. “I’ll be right back, aye?” And without waiting for her agreement, he rapidly strode out of her sight, as if to avoid that she used the opportunity to say her final goodbyes.

The living room was almost precisely the same – photographs taken more than ten years apart would only show small changes, like a different elegant cream-coloured rug and a new lamp by the corner. Everything else seemed to have been caught in the webs of time, as an insect amid flight trapped by a predatory spider.

Claire’s eyes travelled across the tomes on the bookcase – where some new volumes had been added to Jamie’s impressive collection, sleeping next to their photographs – and her eyes were attracted by a drawer’s open crack. Feeling ashamed, but somewhat entitled, she slid it open until the full compartment was exposed.

With her hands shaking, she grabbed the magazine on top of the pile – an old issue of The American Journal of Medicine. She recognized it instantly – she also had a copy of that same issue, stored in one of her boxes since the move. Abandoning any attempt at discretion, she surveyed the contents of the drawer.

Jamie seemed to have found every publication where her name came up – from obscure magazines where her name had been cited after another dozen; to the most reputed surgical journals, with her articles and findings front and centre. It must have been a constant and tiresome job, keeping up with her career, for someone not even in the medical field.

How many hours had he laid there, only their ghosts for company, the consolation of her success a bittersweet drug to numb the pain?

All those days between what they had been and what they were now, forever lost – no regret or anger would win them the right of a replay. But perhaps they still had the chance of stealing tomorrow; of reclaiming the piece of themselves left behind, placing their stones and pillars to build a new sacred place, a new life.

“In my darkest moments, it helped.” She listened his deep voice say from where he stood by the door, his eyes secluded. “Knowing that what I did had some meaning. I celebrated each one of yer victories from afar, as I couldna be kissing ye as I wished.”

“It was your choice.” Claire replied, forcibly closing the drawer.

“Aye.” Jamie said, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I told ye – I dinna regret what I did. But I do regret every tear you shed and every unhappiness I may have caused ye. That I regret…most terribly.”

“If I hadn’t come back and found you by accident…” She said, her arms hugging her body in defence. “Would you ever tell me the truth?”

He tilted his head, his auburn hair coming alive with the slight reflection of the white glow outside. Jamie walked until he was closer to her - able to touch her in an instant, if it wasn’t for the barrier they had both fought so hard to erect.

“There was a time when I thought it a blessing to know what ye were thinking at all times.” He licked his lips and closed his eyes, his long lashes shielding bottomless blue. “My glass faced lass. Now I only see yer pain and yer hate - and it kills me. I’d rather be dead than to see ye so. No – I wouldna say a thing. I wished to let ye live yer life and, hopefully, forget me.”

“How could I forget you?” She whispered. “And how can I forgive you?”

“I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes, Claire.” Jamie swallowed hard. “And if it canna be in this life, I shall pray for a chance to meet ye again in the next - and find yer forgiveness there.”

“I don’t know how to start.” Claire brushed her forehead with her fingers, breathing fast. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Tell me how I’ve hurt ye.” Jamie slowly touched her hand. “Speak to me about what has been broken. I am still the man ye loved – and what ye dinna ken about me now, you can learn in time.”

“And if I don’t want to?” She said slowly, tilting her chin to avoid his scorching gaze.

“Then know I shall love ye forever.” Jamie brushed her knuckles with the fingers of his sane hand. “Ye are my home, mo nighean donn.”

“This home is lost, Jamie.” She sobbed, the pressure of his fingers making her flesh tingle. How many times had they stood there, him whispering his love, her believing it with all her heart?

They were bathed almost in complete darkness – night had fallen outside and the scarce light that came from the lamppost by the window dipped them in shadows. Jamie swished, as if he was about to fall on his knees – but his hand came up then and he touched her cheek, insecure and tentative.

“But it can be found again.” He softly kissed her forehead, real against the absence of light surrounding them. “Find me, Claire. Find us.”

Spank Me

Summary: When investigating a apartment Dean, Sam, and Y/N discover a paddle. Y/N gets nervous seeing it and the brothers soon discover she likes to be spanked. 

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Rated M

Warnings: NSFW, spanking, dirty talk, public sex, smut, 

Word Count: 2,202

A/N: Thank you @attractiverandomness for beta reading girl! This one was hot to write I very much enjoyed it, and I hope you do as well. 

Originally posted by lauraboline



“You said all the windows and doors were locked?” You questioned the elderly landlord standing in front of you. “There were no signs of forced entry and nothing was stolen?”

“No, it’s just like I told the officers Agent Rowling, there was nothing in here but the dead girl.” She looked around the empty apartment apprehensively, before her eyes were drawn to the blood stained wood. “All I know is the neighbors were complaining about the smell. That’s when we found her; the poor thing.” She shook her head back and forth, holding her fist in front of her mouth and nose. “I hope you three find the sick bastard who did this.” She nodded, clearly affected by the trauma.

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Tomorrow

Summary: Draco has one person in mind for the yule ball.  One person who makes his insides flip upside down, his palms sweaty and his knees weak.  The one person he can’t talk to.  Guess what?  Y/N does too.

Word Count: just over 2400


Draco’s Journal – December 7, 1994

There’s going to be a stupid ball on Christmas Day.  Father will probably make me go with some daft bimbo.  I’ll have to get dressed up.  I’ll have to dance.  I’ll have to look at all the ridiculous couples act all lovey dovey on the dance floor.

It’ll be awful.

Draco’s Journal – December 9, 1994

Father said I could pick someone to go with.  He gave me a few suggestions but Mother made sure I knew that I could ask anyone.

Maybe I’ll ask her.

No.  That’s ridiculous.

I barely know her. She would never go to a ball with me.

I’ll have to look at the suggestions.  I’ll take whoever is the prettiest.  Yeah.  That’s the plan.

I need to forget about her.

Draco’s Journal – December 12, 1994

I did not forget about her.

I saw her in the Great Hall and nearly asked her right then and there.  She just looked so perfect talking and laughing with her friends.

No.  I need to get it together.

I’m asking Pansy Parkinson.

Tomorrow.

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Madeleine

Title: Madeleine

Rating: PG

Timeline: Home Again

Category: MSR

Summary:For the anon who asked: Since you mentioned it, Drabble of Mulder finding Scully’s Darkness Falls jacket while they are in an established relationship?

Author’s Note: These went in a different direction then I had planned, but these things so often do. The title was inspired by Proust’s “madeleine moment.”

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|| Yours To Cherish || [[smut]]

{summary: you are his to cherish alone, and you’ll be damned if you let another woman take him away from you.}

to those of you who have sent me some new nsfw peter parker headcanon asks, i’ll get to them tomorrow because my plan with those is to do three posts a day so that it won’t come out as too much clutter on everyone’s dashes :D I’m not ignoring them, I promise you I’m not ignoring them! I’m saving them ;w; so if you have anymore headcanons you want to send me, then bring them in !!

now let’s delve into this guilty pleasure series [♥]

[ {I’m Yours} series tagging list ]: @marvel-fanfiction , @sea-kale , @acunningstargazer , @imagine-thingsandstuff , @sebatianstanisbae , @boom-boombang (if you wish to be added to this series’ tag list, let me know in a reply or an ask!)

warnings: masturbation, smut, blow jobs

**please don’t plagiarize/repost this story. reblogs are fine!!**

——

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mysticmessofcrap  asked:

This is just a thought but it would be a great oneshot or reaction or something. What if Jumin had to put down Elizabeth 3rd because she got sick (I cried when I thought about this I want to know how you feel about this)

This legit triggered me so much because I love my dog so much that I spent a week crying thinking about that one day I need to say goodbye…. well here we go T_T WARNING: This may be OOC because I know Jumin just sees Elizabeth as a cat after he puts his emotional stability on MC but whatever just enjoy (Jumin POV) (for my animal lovers please listen to this fucking song so we can die together ) * ill let y'all know when to play the song* 


Ugh. Each and every single day I recieve more and more paperwork. No matter how many hours I put into my job, I will always need more. I picked up the 649 page proposal that Assistant Kang left on my desk so I can look over it. I gave a deep sigh knowing I was going to be late going home again. Well there is nothing I can do. I must do what I can so I can support my family.

I was already on page 443 before I heard a knock on the door. I perked my head up “Who is it? Im busy. It better be important for it to demand my attention” I scowled.  The door slowly opened and Assistant Kang popped her head out. I motioned for her to come in “What is it Assistant Kang? Do I need to over look more papers? If so, just leave it on that chair” I sighed pointing at the chair with four piles of paperwork. She walked closer to me and cleared her through “Have you checked your phone Mr. Han? (Y/N) just called the office” she said with a bit of shakiness in her voice. I reached into my pocket to see that my phone was left on silent. I put the volume on high and I was shock to see I had 23 missed calls from (y/n), 12 missed called from Yoosung, and 3 missed calls from Saeyoung. Hmm. I was getting ready to go through my voice mail to see what the fuss was about before Assistant Kang interrupted my thoughts “Mr. Han you need to leave. Now.” she commanded. I gave her a puzzled look but then my wife barged into my office screaming. She panted and caught her breath “Jumin, Elizabeth is dying!” she shouted. My heart stopped and I got up and ran to my wife “What did you say!” I shouted back. My wife looked me into my eyes and I notice she had tear stains on her cheek. She grabbed my hand and dragged me outside to where Saeyoung was. She pushed me inside and Saeyoung drove to the speed of light to Yoosungs hospital. 

I ran helplessly through the hospital doors and went to the second floor. I noticed Yoosung outside of room 8 looking down at his clipboard. I ran to him and kneeled down in front of “What happened! I thought removing the tumor would guarantee Elizabeth 3rd life! What the fuck did you do! What did you do to my Elizabeth” I screeched while I shook his shoulders. He looked into my eyes and then pull me in for a hug “Im sorry Jumin okay I’m sorry! I warned you that with her age she might not make a full recovery. It’s even a miracle that she’s been alive for this long. She’s been bleeding internally and she doesn’t want to let go yet. She’s waiting for you Jumin. Im sorry… but its time..” he whimpered. I got up from the floor and started to pull on my hair trying to focus on a different pain “IM NOT READY FUCK IM NOT!! HOW CAN I SAY GOODBYE TO SOMEONE WHO SAVED ME HUH!! HOW CAN I LET HER DIE WHEN SHE HELPED ME LIVE!”I shouted while kicking a nearby trashcan. I couldn’t breath and I just fell on the floor screaming Elizabeths name. My wife and Saeyoung helped me back up to my feet and they gave me a drink of water. I breathed in heavily and then went to Yoosung to take me to Elizabeth. I told my wife and Saeyoung that I want to say goodbye by myself and they respected my wishes. 

I entered the little room and I heard painful meows coming from my sweet Elizabeth. It hurt like hell seeing her in agony. I am her owner and I will forever be her owner. I am the one that holds the power to ease her from pain. However, it meant that I must go through life without having Elizabeth 3rd greeting me at the door. I breathed in heavily and nodded at Yoosung so he can get everything ready. I signed my heart away and the assistants and Yoosung were gracious enough to give me one last time alone with her. I got the nearest chair and I sat down right by her side.  *play the song so we both can die*

I took her paw into my hand and I already felt my tears escaping my eyes “I knew this day would eventually come but I always hoped it would be many years from now. I remember the first time I settled you into my home. I was a bit distant with you because I didnt know how to take care of a cat. So I just bought you high end pet food and hoped for the best. You were really patient with me because it did took me a while to know how to properly raise you. Its funny to say but we sure did get into many fights but at the end of the day I couldn’t get mad at you. You were always there meowing happily when I got home. It felt nice having someone excited to see me. You know something my sweet Elizabeth, I really cherish the time we had together. I just wished I could of spent so many more hours with you. I wish I could repay you for everything that you have done for me. You gave me a feeling of having a home and you always listened to me when I rabbled on so many idiotic nonsense. You gave me a chance to learn to express my emotions. You were there when my own blood wasn’t. It just kills me that I need to say goodbye to you Elizabeth. You are my hardest goodbye because I know people see you as a cat, but I saw you as my child. You brought life to my dull life. It kills me seeing you in pain Elizabeth. You don’t deserve to leave this world like this but just know ill be here till your last breath. I know life will be hard without having someone to welcome me home but you can let go now Elizabeth. Im ready to do this on my own and I’m going to miss you so much. I love you so much Elizabeth. You can let go now” I whispered. I leaned down and kissed her paw gently. I got up and hugged her and I notice she raised her head gently and licked some of my tears away. She purred and she laid her back down. I continue holding her paw till I noticed she stopped breathing. More tears were falling down my face and it was so hard to breathe. 

Wait for me at the rainbow bridge Elizabeth 3rd. 

I’ll be there to find you soon. 

Have fun with V. 

He Knows

Simon x Reader

Read Part 2

Request: “hey would you be doing requests by any chance?? If so, would you please be able to write a Simon one based off the song ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ - Shawn Mendes ft. Camilla Cabello. So basically the reader has been on a holiday recently and Simon has a feeling/thinks she’s cheated & there’s tension, endings up to you. I love your writing so much!! Thank you xxxx”

Note: This did not turn out the way I expected it to at all. Whelp. You brought this upon yourselves lol. 2950 words. [master list]

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