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A Little Too Late Part 14

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Title: A Little Too Late Part 14

Characters: Gabriel x Reader, Castiel, Balthazar, Sam, Dean

Word Count: 1,276

Warnings: angst and fluff

A/N: I hope you are all ready for this next part! Things are just getting interesting! I think I’ll be doing something SPECIAL for thanksgiving. So STAY TUNED! Or get excited?? Either way it’s gonna be great!

Series Masterlist

You parked your car just outside the bunker.  It was late in the evening now.  You climbed out of your car, patting the hood of your car.  “It’s been so long since I’ve had my car,” you mumbled.  “It feels good to have my car back.”

Dean quickly strolled up to you and your car, Sam, Balthazar, and Castiel trailing behind him.  Dean leaned against your car, facing you.  “So [Y/N], you wanna let me take her for a spin,” Dean smirked.

“Actually how about you put it in the garage, we need to do a cavity search on my car,” you joked.  You saw the pleading look mixed with excitement on Dean’s face.  You sighed, handing Dean the keys to your car.  “It better be in the garage in twenty minutes, or so help me Dean Winchester,” you grumbled.  You quickly opened the trunk, tossing your bag at Gabriel.  “And no digging around in my car either,” you shouted at Dean.

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Worlds Collide (Part 1)

Castiel x Reader 

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: brief canon-style violence, mention of blood, swearing.

A/N: My awesome title naming skills strike again! This is another Anon request (possibly 2 in 1?). It will be a Castiel x Reader fic, with a twist? (no spoilers!) It’s a different feel for me, but very fun to write. This will be a mini series at the very least, depending on how carried away I get. Oh, and I made a silly little aesthetic/collage (whatever they’re called) thing. So, yay me.

Anon request: “heyyy i’ve got a prompt for you for whenever you have time… J2M gets transported (by my bby Gabriel) to the SPN world and meets TFW + the reader??? maybe throw in some lovin’ for my boy cas? or misha? take it wherever you want :) thanks!”

Worlds Collide Master List

Gabriel had been horrifically bored for weeks, unable to find a single soul worth pestering. Sam and Dean weren’t amusing anymore, and Castiel never got his jokes. The clueless look on his brother’s face didn’t even make the amber-eyed archangel smile anymore.

So, the angel scanned through every dimension he knew of, in search of his next victim. But, with every new land he trekked, he grew more and more discouraged. Maybe he was doomed to infinite boredom? He sure as hell hoped not. Gabriel rolled his eyes as he snapped his fingers for the n’teenth time.

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Sunday Afternoon

Part 1

@butiaintgonnaloveem set an AMAZING challenge; Must be about Baby, our beloved Impala. So I picked the following song (please listen to it first) that I fell in love with and this fic is what resulted. It’s 6k words, so it’s in 2 parts… enjoy

Song: Groovin (The Young Rascals)
Characters: Reader, John, Dean, Sam
Warnings: fluff, angst, supernatural themes, death, blood…
A/N: Thank you to the marvelous @avasmommy224 for being my beta on this, you’re one amazing woman!
Summary: A shared love for an Impala brings people closer together, whether they know it or not… (shit summary but I don’t want to spoil anything)

Originally posted by abreaktocome

May 29th, 1967: I’d been saving up all my money for that bloody car. I knew exactly what I wanted. I’d even asked the bank about a loan so I could get it faster, but oh no… no loan for a travelling woman who didn’t have a solid job, or a home!
I finally had enough money for the car of my dreams, a 1965 Ford Mustang!
I almost ran to the car lot when I received my pay for the month.
I had walked past this car for the past year, the only reason it was still here was that i’d put a deposit on it last year, Gary the owner of the car yard knew me well by now. I was in every other week, just staring and mumbling to the precious baby.
3.27pm; when you’re whole life changes, you want to be able to pinpoint it when you look back.
I rushed into the car yard, looked to my left, two cars back, I already had my finger pointed and I said you’ll be all mine soon, baby, but all the cars had been moved around and it was out before I’d even realized. The sleek, shining, red, Ford Mustang had been swapped for a twinkling, black, brand new, Chevrolet Impala.
Did my world change or what?
Gary came out, waving the papers at me, but I ignored him. I went straight over to the car. I had to see her, had to touch her. She was a siren and I was caught in her song.
“YN, your car’s over here.” Gary tried to loop a hand around my waist but I wasn’t budging.
“How much is she?” I whispered. I was in a trance, I wasn’t leaving here without this beauty.
“Four thousand.” To give Gary credit, he did try and talk me round, he spent ages begging me to come over to the Ford, he mentioned the deposit more than once, but it wasn’t till I held my switchblade to him that he gave in.
And I couldn’t believe it either, she was cheaper than the Ford.
“She’s mine.” I whispered, nodding at my decision.
“But…” Gary tried again but one stern look in his direction and he got the point. He hurried off to the office for the paperwork.

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Thanks for the request, anon! Hope you enjoy it :)

Wed Me: a drabble about a character under the subject of wedlock 

After a childhood spent in the strange and unpredictable town of Gravity Falls, Pacifica liked to think she was prepared for anything. That’s why she had bear repellent and gnome repellent strapped to her thighs beneath her wedding dress, not to mention a security team and an amateur wizard. This day was going to be perfect, dammit, and she had planned for the unexpected.

That’s what she thought, at least, until her groom poked his head into her changing room a half hour before the wedding with a worry line between his brows.

“Pacifica, I need to ask you something.”

“Dipper!” She whirled away from her reflection in the mirror and folded her arms over the bodice of her dress to hide as much as she could. “You’re not supposed to see me right now, it’s bad luck. You’re lucky the girls went to grab the photographer; they’d kick you out if they were here.”

Only when she noticed he was pale and short of breath did Pacifica quiet herself. Sensing his opportunity to speak, Dipper stammered, “Sorry, but it – it can’t wait.”

Pacifica took a step toward him and he followed, closing the door. With a shaky breath, Pacifica asked, “What’s up? Are you okay?”

Dipper’s hands crumpled the hem of his suit jacket as his eyes flicked from the floor to the bouquets laid on a nearby table to the ceiling fan and back down to the floor – anywhere but her face. Dread precipitated in her gut and she hugged herself tighter.

“I’m just…really freaking out right now,” Dipper confessed. “I almost had an anxiety attack in the groom’s room; I had to get out of there. By the way, my dad thinks I’m in the bathroom right now, so we have to be quick.”

Pacifica crossed the room to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, her brow furrowed with worry. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I don’t know, I just think I…” His face crumpled and he bowed his head with a whine. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up.”

“Hey, hey,” she murmured to catch his attention, her hands cupping his face, “What do you mean, mess it up?”

Dipper sighed and cast his gaze off to the side. “I mean us. Getting married is a huge deal, and I’m scared it’s gonna change everything. I’m scared that after everything we’ve been through, I’m not gonna be a good enough partner for you.”

It crushed her to hear him say that; to doubt himself so deeply when he had given her everything he had and she had done the same for him. She wanted to peel off her dress and wrap him up in her arms, to ignore the crowd gathered outside waiting for their vows and just find peace with each other. Because for her, the important thing wasn’t the ceremony, or the dress, or the décor. The importance was the promise she would make to Dipper.

Today, one of them had to be the strong one, for both of them. And Pacifica knew she needed to be there for Dipper. She straightened up and steeled herself.

“Mason Pines,” she said forcefully, “you have always been, and will always be, enough for me. You are more than enough.”

He glanced up at her from beneath his lashes, his eyes glassy. Pacifica tightened her fingers in his hair and continued, “Things are going to change, but one thing that won’t change is how much I love you. You’re going to be an amazing husband because you’ve already been an amazing boyfriend and fiancé.”

To soothe the worry on his face, she traced his cheeks with her thumbs and pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss. When she pulled away, he looked calmer than he had when he came into the room. She smiled.

“You’ve already proven that you’re a fantastic partner, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Dipper’s mouth finally turned up in a smile and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you so much,” he whispered into the space between them.

Pacifica tilted her chin up for another kiss, and Dipper hugged her around the middle, basking in the brief moment of solitude.

“Are you ready to go back out there?” Pacifica asked softly, her fingers ghosting down his chest.

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Pacifica.” Dipper stepped back and took a deep breath.

“Alright. Now get out of here, before Mabel boils you alive for checking out the bride before the wedding.” Pacifica shooed him out, and he was quick to oblige. He only paused at the door to give her a final glance.

“You look gorgeous, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.

Pacifica planted her hands on her hips and struck a pose. “I know.”

Dipper chuckled as he slipped out through the door. Pacifica smiled to herself and inhaled deeply to calm the nerves that churned in her stomach. She couldn’t wait to take Dipper as her own when they exchanged their vows in the light of the setting sun.

'cause you know I'm coming back

Author: @jazzfic

Rating: T


Beach blond, they called it. Bright, sandy locks, cured by the saltwater and turned into curling waves that stood up at all angles on his head. It was a ridiculous sight. I watched as he came running from the water, stopped a few feet from us, and shook his head and those locks of hair like a dog.

Beside me, Prim jerked up from her book, a fast, indignant flash taking hold of her eyes. “Katniss!” She held up the novel by its tattered edges. “How am I supposed to finish this chapter when Gatsby’s all wet?!”

I swallowed my response, not bothering any sort of attempt at convincing my sister that a beach in the height of summer was as far removed from the library as any place could be. Besides, she’d been the one to drag me out here, at once at odds with her personality and at the same time fitting in like a charm dropped in the sand. Prim fit in anywhere. Everyone loved her, everyone smiled down at her. Not like me. I hated it here. I bristled in the heat, became a flat-sided version of myself, shimmering mirage-like and unnoticed. The beach bunnies hid their laughter at the sight of me, nearly fully clothed on a plain white towel, not a bikini in sight. In that summer, 1977, barely a year having breathed from my father’s death and my mother’s withdrawal from my and Prim’s life, the girls on this beach and the guys they sidled up to, they each of them looked like gods and goddesses. Sleek, sly, tanned beauties, eyeballing my plain braid and knowing, as I did, that we did not, nor would ever, belong.

But he didn’t notice us. Of course he didn’t. He was oblivious to everything but the board under his arm and the wide smiles of the group of surfer friends around him. He was seventeen, like me. Seventeen and free, a cliché of summer, a cliché of a boy. Standing shorter that his co-conspirators of the waves, but built solid, like he knew his place, knew the water; no smooth-talking dude this one; I imagined his friends were sea turtles and dolphins, that he sang to them as he paddled out beneath the sky. And that he was kinder for it.

God, but I hated the sight of him.

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is it more crimson or maroon? // vampire!kyungsoo drabble 002

yes hello idk why these boys make good vampires but im not complaining

Originally posted by kyungception


It’s been about a month since you broke into that high-rise apartment to meet that terrible vampire. And terrible in this sense means he was just god awful at being a vampire. Didn’t know how to act, how to hide the color of his eyes, how to eat… So you, in all your vampire-hunting glory, went against whatever morals you have and let him taste your blood.

You should’ve known better.

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Home

Author’s Note: For some reason I was thinking about Soryu, and this happened.  (Things happen when I let my brain go wandering around lol)


It had been a long flight back to Dubai from Japan. He wished he could have taken her with him - he was certain Eisuke would have had no issue arranging for her to take time off her maid work, but he was still reluctant to involve her heavily in the politics of the Ice Dragons, so he had left her behind on this trip.

Rubbing at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, he stood out the front of the airport, the scent of exhaust fumes tickling his nose as cars idled nearby, waiting for their passengers.

“Boss!” came the energetic voice he had been awaiting, and Inui appeared before him, huffing slightly. “We’re parked over this way, Boss! Welcome home!”

The look of joy on Inui’s face was much like a puppy. It had been said before, but Soryu couldn’t help but acknowledge it again now that it was right in front of him. With a nod, he flicked his jacket over his shoulder and followed Inui to the car with tinted windows, seating himself in the back and giving a nod to Samejima, who was at the wheel.

“Boss.” Samejima said, a slight smile on his lips. Clearly he had been missed.

They talked shop briefly, but both Inui and Samejima could tell their boss’s mind was elsewhere, so the car eventually fell silent - and he was left to his thoughts of her smile, the way she carried herself, the fastidious manner in which she did her job. He had missed her terribly.

It was nearing midnight when he finally arrived home, and Inui and Samejima took off in the car after dropping him off, stating that they were ‘giving Boss and Princess time alone!’

They could be surprisingly considerate sometimes, he admitted.

He could see lights on inside as he shuffled in through the front door, slipping his feet out of his shoes and into his comfortable house slippers. The scuffing of little feet told him she was on her way to him.

“Soryu!”

There she was, her tiny frame launching toward him and her arms squeezing him as tightly as she could. He returned her embrace, letting his fingers comb through the ends of her hair.

“I’m home…” he murmured, and they shared a gentle kiss, their lips lingering afterward, as if to say they missed one another.

“Welcome home!” she chirped, looking altogether bright eyed despite the lateness of the hour. “I made you food, please come and eat…”

Soryu’s nose already knew what to expect, he had smelled it the moment he entered the house. He had a weakness for her omelettes, and she knew it - he could almost taste the fluffy eggs as he followed her into the dining room, and he couldn’t help but smile at seeing everything set up on the table…along with two extra place settings.

“Inui and Samejima won’t be joining us tonight,” he told her, and she looked half-relieved, half upset. “I’m sure I can eat their share, though.”

That brightened her expression, and she quickly re-plated the food. It was, as always…perfection. He could eat her omelettes forever, especially when she looked so happy to see him enjoy her cooking.

After dinner, they curled up together on the couch to watch a detective movie she had rented just for him. Soryu found himself getting dragged into the plot, and - clenching his fists during the action scene - he gazed at her to see if she was doing the same…but saw she had closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. A wry smile appeared on his lips.

He wasn’t surprised, if he was being honest. Just looking around the room he could tell she had been cleaning furiously in preperation for his arrival and waiting up for him. And she likely hadn’t slept the night before due to excitement, or worry.  That was simply the kind of woman she was, and he loved her for it.

Her head on his shoulder was a comfortable, soothing weight. Shifting slowly to be able to hold her properly and rest his cheek against the top of her head, he inhaled the gentle fragrance of her shampoo, the movie forgotten.

In her warmth, surrounded by her little gestures of love. Love he hadn’t known until he met her.

This was home.




More fanfics at my MASTERPOST!

I'll take what I can get

A/N: have not read through it because I’m half asleep so sorry x

“Do you ever think you could love someone?” She asked curiously, her eyes searching his face from the side for any sign.

His jaw clenched and he looked momentarily confused at her question. She could see how hard he was thinking. The squint of his eyes made him look in pain- as if he had a headache.

“No, I don’t, it’s not for me” he said genuinely. “I’m not cut out for that kind of life”

“Do you think you could ever love me?” She asked softly, her voice just above a whisper. She could take a guess at the answer, it wouldn’t be such a shock.

“No” he said gently. “I’m not that type of person”

“Oh… Well that’s cool, I don’t blame you. I’ve seen what love does to people” she said thinking about when her brothers heart got broken by the girl who he thought was the one.

She laughed silently in her head in spite. She remembered how her brother Michael became detached from everyone for weeks. The only times she would see him were when he had to come out of his room to go to the toilet or when she brought him food because he refused to eat and she cared too much to let him starve himself over some girl.

She had witnessed heartbreak and decided she would never let that happen to her. She wouldn’t be weak enough to let someone get so close to her that they could destroy her with a few harsh words and broken promises.

“Why?” He asked, his dark brown eyes searching her face intently.

“I was just curious”

“Didn’t you hear?” Calum asked raising his eyebrow “curiosity killed the cat” he winked, tipping his can of beer in order to get the last few drops out.

They sat in silence before Calum decided to return the question.

“Do you think you could ever love someone?” He asked, taking a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and flicking his lighter. He took a well needed drag, blowing smoke out of his mouth and into the night air.

She turned to look at him, admiring him in secrecy like she always had.

“Maybe” she said “I dunno, depends”

“On?”

“What type of person they are” she said carefully thinking through her words, her mind was running at 100 miles per hour as she waited for his reply.

“Do you think you could ever love me?” He asked monotone taking another drag of his cigarette.

She thought about it for a moment. If he didn’t fall in love, what was the point of loving someone who would never return the feelings. There wasn’t.

That was just screaming obvious heart break and she didn’t want to turn into her zombie of a brother, whose never been the same after his heartbreak.

“No, you’re my brothers best friend” she chuckled.

“Good” He said, eyes following the trail of smoke that left his lips.

They had known each other for years. Michael had introduced Calum to her years ago when they first became friends. She was younger but only by a year, it really didn’t make a difference as she was pretty mature; definitely more mature than the boys.

“You should talk to Luke more” Calum said out of no where.

“Really? Why?” She asked confused as to why he was encouraging her to talk to other guys.

“He told me he thinks you’re cute” he scoffed. “Stupid, I know. I told him he couldn’t even think about it, plus Michael was there so it didn’t go down too well”

“Oh… Well, I’ve never thought of Luke that way…maybe I should text him…” She said a hint of teasing behind her words.

“Don’t” Calum said.

“Why not?” She asked smirking slightly.

“Don’t mess Luke around… He’s… Fragile?” Calum said not quiet knowing how to explain it. Luke was prone to heartbreak and he was just looking out for him.

“Fragile?” She chuckled and Calum did the same.

“I couldn’t think of another word, just don’t lead him on, he really likes you, plus Michael would never agree to it, just don’t go there. Please” he said stubbing his cigarette on the damp grass where they both sat.

“Michael wouldn’t agree to this…” She said gesturing between the two of them. “Us… And what ever it is we do”

It always turned awkward when either of them brought up what they did in the bedroom outside of the bedroom.

“He won’t have to agree, because he won’t and can’t know” he said slowly his eyes turning hard and his jaw clenching slightly as he stared at her.

“It’s not like I’d ever tell him Cal” She mumbled.

“Good” he said “what goes on in the bedroom stays in the bed room.”

“I know” she mumbled again, feeling like a child being told off.They sat there together in the back of y/n’s garden, only a few centimetres between their shoulders which occasionally brushed.

“I’m going inside” she said after a few silent minutes. She stood up feeling that the damp grass had stained her ripped jeans. But that was the least of her worries.

Upon entering the kitchen she saw a shirtless Ashton looking in the fridge and cursing.

“Ash?” She asked confused.

The boys body jerked as he jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Shit” he cursed “you scared me y/n” he said, his hand resting my over his heart in mock horror.

“Sorry, are you okay? It’s just you’re shirtless and half way in the fridge” she said amused, smirking at him and twirling her hair.

“You have no food in this house” he whined, he couldn’t help but scan his eyes over her quickly.

“That’s because Mikey eats it all” She shrugged, a small piece of hair falling over her face.

“How do you survive, don’t you starve?”

“It’s called adapting, something you have to do in order to survive” she replied back.

“You-”

“For fuck sake Ash I’m starving hurry up- oh … Hi y/n” Luke blushed, his normally pale cheeks turning a slight pinkish colour, y/n thought it was cute.

“Hey Lucas” she smirked, she knew his little secret now and she wondered how she never noticed before, it was kind of obvious.

He sighed rolling his eyes. Luke would normally protest if any one else called him Lucas but because it was y/n he let it slide each time, he didn’t want to do anything that would she wouldn’t like and constantly tried to please her in hopes that he would notice her.

“Well Lukey boy, they have no food” Ash said. Flinching when luke shoved him roughly at the stupid Nick name.

“Lukey boy” she smirked repeating it.

She found it amusing how Luke’s face turned a darker shade of red.

“We can get take out?” She suggested “if you’re that hungry”

“Pizza!” Michael shouted entering the kitchen. “There’s a menu some where” he said as y/n rummaged through the draw it should be in.

“Where’s Calum?” Michael asked.

“He said he was gonna have a cigarette or something like half an hour ago” Luke said.

“Did he get lost or something?”

“Probably, it is Calum after all”

The back door opened drawing all of their attention. It was Calum. You could tell without even looking up from the distinct smell or smoke that lingered on his clothes.

“We’re getting pizza, want some?” Michael asked him. Oblivious to the argument going on in Calum’s head.

He was confused and managed a small nod, not even hearing what Michael had just said. Y/n messed with his brain. Why wouldn’t she be able to love him? She said she might be able to love someone, so why couldn’t it be him?

He cast a quick glance at her seeing she was smirking like she normally did. She was always fucking smirking.

He observed the kitchen seeing Luke was occasionally sparing longing looks of amazement and wonder towards y/n. It was sickening. He watched as y/n caught Luke looking at her, he would have laughed at the colour of Luke’s face and his expression of shock for being caught- that was if he didn’t see her wink at him.

Now that was sickening.

She knew Calum was watching. So she did what she knew he hated
She smirked at Calum.

His but back his tongue wanting to call her out, wanting to warn Luke, wanting to keep her for himself.

“You staying in tonight?” Michael asked his sister.

“Yeah” she said her eyes glinting with mischievousness.

“Cool, well the boys are staying round tonight so sorry if we make too much noise” He said not sounding like he would be sorry at all.
“I’m gonna go order the pizzas”
Michael said going into the lounge where he phone was and also to get away from the boys while he ordered as they tended to shout things down the phone.

Y/N had gone to her room, her mind constantly on the brown haired, brown eyed boy. She kept replaying the heart shattering words in her head of Calum’s telling her he could never love her.

She was sure before tonight that maybe he did. But she was wrong. All those nights together obviously meant nothing. Really meant nothing. She thought they did. Maybe, only if it meant a little bit.

She was proud of herself for staying strong earlier when all she wanted to do was cry.

She wanted to beg him to love her, she just wanted him to love her. She wanted somebody special. Somebody who would make her feel good. That somebody was Calum.

Calum made her feel good.

But he also made her feel bad.

The times when he wasn’t around, when he was on tour. He made her feel bad then, sleeping around with girls he wouldn’t ever see more than once. It reminded her that he wasn’t hers and she wasn’t his.

She got lonely when he was on tour. She didn’t really have any one else. Sure she had a few friends at school, but she didn’t spend much time out of school with them. She mostly hung around with her brother and the boys and when they were gone, she had no choice but to stay at home and wait while seeing them live their lives without her through social media.

‘What we have is purely physical’- she often repeated these words in her head to remind herself she didn’t feel anything for him.

She couldn’t help but let a few years escape. She needed to let them go, let him go.

She decided to go to bed early. Crying was very tiring. It also made her feel dehydrated and she cursed as she didn’t have any water within reach.

She stumbled out of the warm safety of her bed, hoping that the boys had fallen asleep or were too engrossed in a movie that they wouldn’t hear her in the kitchen.

She had a plain white tshirt on that reached mid thigh, because… Well they’re comfy to sleep in. Quietly padding down the wooden stairs she made it to the kitchen without interrupting the boys.

Reaching up to the kitchen cabinet which held the glasses in she grabbed the first one.

She nearly dropped it seconds later as warm hands were on her hips, where her t-shirt had risen up. Soft, wet kisses were placed upon her neck and she could tell by the smell who it was.

Cigarettes.

“C-Calum” she stuttered, becoming weak at his touch.

“Everyone is passed out, they got bored watching some stupid film Luke put on”

“Oh”

“We should go upstairs… It’s been a while, missed you” he mumbled between kisses. She moved away from his touches leaving him confused.

She filled her glass with water before quickly drinking it, half in nervousness and half because her throat was so dry and she needed to think.

“Y/n?” Calum whispered confused.

“Sorry- s-sorry, uh yeah… Upstairs” she mumbled.

Calum followed after her, cautiously.

He thought it was weird how her normally confident persona was gone. She wasn’t smirking for once.

The stairs creaked quietly as they walked in silence to her bedroom. Calum lifted his shirt off almost immediately upon entering her room. He spun round to face her, lifting hers off as well.

They stared at each other for a minutes before tentatively stepping forward towards each other, closing the mile gap between them.

His hand rested on her lower back, the other one cupping her cheek gently while his lips desperately moved against hers.


“Missed this” Calum muttered, detaching their lips to attack her neck.

“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good” he growled sucking and biting on her neck, purposely leaving huge purple marks.

“Please” she begged, her voice sounding so needy and… Weak.

“What do you want? You want my fingers?” He asked, smirking down at her where they lay on her bed.

“Please Cal- please”

His hands trailed down slowly to the top of her pale pink underwear, hooking his fingers through the sides and pulling them down to mid thigh on her.

“Oh y/n, we aren’t fucking tonight” Calum said as she had looked at him confused “your brothers downstairs and you’re too loud” he smirked.

“Calum” she whined quietly as his hand made its way towards her centre.

“What? You want two?” He asked slipping a second finger in and pumping it in and out. “How about three? Can you take three?” He asked, without waiting for a reply he pushed a third finger in, her back arching off the bed .

Her whimpers and moans were quiet, she felt so desperate for Calum, yet this was all she was getting tonight.

“So good” Calum encouraged her as he held her hips down tightly, increasing his pace.

“Calum” she whispered, her stomach clenching in pure bliss. “I can’t-I’m going to -”

“Come On princess” he edged her on, taking a mental image of how she looked in this state. It was pure heaven to him.

“Fuck Calum.” She whispered as they lay next to each other’s, side by side on her bed.

“Do you think Luke could love me?“She asked curiously.

“Yes” he said bluntly, not liking this question.

“Do you think i could love him?” She asked again.

“I don’t know…but just make sure you know if you can love him before you destroy him” Calum said, heart clenching at the idea of her thinking of someone else let alone being with someone else.

Diet Mountain Dew

The Moon And It’s Stars

Ask/Request 

Masterlist

___

“Where are you going, it’s” you pause, reaching over the now empty bed for your phone, the bright screen illuminating your face in the dark room, “it’s four am Michael” you pout looking up at your exhausted boyfriend as he pulls his tight jeans over his thighs. “I have work to do baby, I promise I won’t be long” he mumbles, leaning over the bed to give you a chaste kiss. You watched him drag his exhausted body out of your shared room, closing the door softly behind him. 

___

Michael was in a gang, he has been since he was 16. At first you thought it was hot, the idea of having a bad boy boyfriend, someone your parents would never approve of. Everyone told you he was no good for you, he’d break your heart and leave you to pick up the piece but you never believe it. He had a reputation for putting people in the hospital for even looking at him the wrong way, he might drive a motorcycle and act tough but when he was with you, he treated you like gold. Everything he did, was for you. The only reason why he went on these jobs was so he could support you, regardless of how many times you told him you could support yourself, he’d always laugh and tell you “you deserve the moon and it’s stars so that’s what I’m going to give you.”

After a while he’d turn up at your door step, early hours of the morning, looking like he’d just got back from hell. You’d help him into the kitchen as you looked for your first aid kit you’d topped up too many times before, he’d help you onto the counter top due to the height difference as he stood between your legs, letting you patch him up. Always telling you he’ll get out soon, you’ll leave this dead beat town and finally live the life you deserve, a small giggle would escape your lips, he lived in a fantasy world were you’re the queen and he is your king. The morning after you patched him up he’d leave you small gifts on top of the first aid kit you left out the night before, a bouquet of flowers or a tub of your favorite ice cream, it was his way of saying thank you for patching him up and sorry for waking you. You’d smile at his small gestures, making sure to thank him later. 

When you left school, the jobs he took increased, the more danger he was in and the more he would turn up beaten and bruised at your doorstep. He was hanging on by a thread, you were his only hope. Soon enough you both moved out of your parents houses and into your own tiny apartment, it wasn’t much but it was home. 

___

Tossing and turning in your cold empty bed you gave up trying to go back to sleep, too concerned about your boyfriend and if you’re going to get a call from one of his friends telling you he’s in the hospital or worse. Throwing the covers from your body, you were greeted by a cold gust of air. Swinging your legs across the bed you placed your feet firmly on the wood floor, trudging to the living room as you grabbed one of Michael’s jackets on the way. Flicking through the channels you pulled the jacket closer to your body, breathing in his familiar sent as you waited for his return. 

Two hours had past, the sun beginning to rise as you nervously chewed on your lip. Michael’s never been gone for more than an hour, you began to wonder if he was lying in an alleyway somewhere. The sound of aggressive knocking on your front door startled you, jumping to your feet you rushed to the door, praying it was your boyfriend. You stopped dead in your tracks as you reached the hallways, hesitant to open it, he always told you not to open the door when he was out, in case it was someone with malicious intent. “Y/N, it’s Calum, open the door please” the voice boomed through the hallway, Calum was in the gang with Michael, he always kept a close eye on your boyfriend. Being there for him when it was needed. 

Rushing to the door, you swung it open to find Michael slouching, his head hung low as Calum and another member, Luke, held him up. Your mouth fell open at the sight of your boyfriend, moving out of the way to let them all in, holding back the tears you closed the door behind them and followed them into the living room. Calum helped him lay on the couch as you rushed to his side, “we’ll be back soon to help you with him, we need to finish what he started” Luke told you as Calum gave you a small smile. Leaving you alone with what you once recognized as your boyfriend. You weren’t sure what he is now. 

I had the idea to do a gang!au and this kinda happened, anyways I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading my lovely smol beans! x

The future has romance movies.

The future has romance movies and some of them are funny (”Rom Coms” Sam explains with an expression somewhere between exasperated and annoyed.) but some of them are not.

The future has romance movies and every. single. one of them has some man and woman kissing, some great misunderstanding, some hurtful longing, some sun soaked scene, a reuniting or the big forgiveness. 

The big forgiveness for death. 

The healing, the grieving, the moving on.

Natasha sorts them yes and no, Yes to Pretty Woman and No to Bridges of Madison County. Yes to You’ve Got Mail and No to The Vow.

Steve watches them all anyway. Watches any one he can find the same way the sick will listen to stories of people who got better and people who got worse. 

Every one of them leaves a sickening bruise in the middle of him. 

A dance he never got to, a hand he couldn’t reach.

Ibid. 

And yet, none of them look like him.

The pining, the absolute, heart in your throat, can’t breath pining all while knowing it was wrong and dirty and saying a word would ruin you. Ruin everything for you.

Worse than Romeo and Juliet, he thought once, a million years ago, as a lonely man in shirtsleeves leaning over the railing of the fire escape in their coldwater walk up watching the sunset between the buildings, watching the dusk guide Bucky home from the docks. 

Pretending he didn’t want to see length of Bucky’s legs, his one hand in his pocket, the swing of his shoulders and hips, the dirt on his face after a long day. Pretending it didn’t hurt in the exact way love is not supposed to. Pretending he wasn’t watching his world collapse he loved that silly boy so much.

Yeah, a little part of him is bitter for drawing that particular hand. For a dance with Peggy that never came and never having the opportunity with Buck and all these couples on the silver screen acting like their love hurts worst of all. 

He doesn’t watch the ones that take place in WWII.

A heart can only hold so much.

“Don’t watch the queer ones, they’re worse than the straight ones,” Clint says after flipping through Steve’s netflix cue. Natasha hits him on the arm. “What? Oh, sorry, I mean the LGBT ones.” He rolls his eyes and Natasha hits him again. 

Steve watches Were the World Mine and tries not to cry.

(He does but then never admits that Captain America lost that particular battle.)

And it’s Tony - Tony - of all people who brings it to the light. Smugly after an easy, but stupid battle, as the shit hits the news and action shots taken on cellphones go live on the web and cable news, Tony sits back and says, “You know they write stories about us?”

It’s like everyone else knows a train wreck is about to happen but no one is willing to stop it, too much fun to watch. Or maybe it’s just something about the future they’ve decided to stop hiding from Steve and Tony is the best at being blunt.

“All kinds,” Tony continues with a salacious smirk. Then winks. The bastard. “They even have names for relationship pairs they think would be cute, or hot together. They call us Stony,” he says and Steve is first unsettled by this knowledge but then…

Curious. Really fucking curious. 

Yeah, after he gets over initially being squicked out over strangers writing porn of him.

Of him and Tony??

And Thor???

and sometimes even the Hulk??!?!?!

After that, he finds, well. 

The good stuff, as he likes to call it. 

Stories about before. Before the avengers, before the war, even. 

Before, before.

Other lives. All that potential, never reached.

Stories about him, about them about–

Bucky.

They don’t get him right, of course. They didn’t actually know him and the few documentaries floating around out there about him are absurd. 

But some, some of the authors are kind to him, gentle with him. 

The way Steve wishes people had been with Bucky in life. 

And that… That’s hard to look away from. Even though it hurts, so much, like doubling over in front of his computer when someone gets to close to the nerve, to close to the bone, to close to real

That silly boy’s smile and Steve’s fawn heart stuttering in his chest, a literal lifetime ago.

They write about the longing. Watching Bucky’s long fingers play in the perspiration on a Coke bottle on a hot summer day, down by the coast, or a Christmas where they Magi gift each other, or curling up under a blanket on the fire escape to watch the stars and all of them…

All of them close enough to the truth that Steve can pretend, pretend just for a moment, that they are real.

That he can picture, sweetly and perfectly, exactly how Bucky would smile over some barely adequate dinner in their flat before the big confession, the thundering of Steve’s heart and the rush of blood in his ears.

Or picturing Bucky in dress uniform, hat just so and their dates having stood them up (because there was no such dates to begin with, but Steve didn’t know) and him confessing, after, on his knees at Steve’s bedside with his hands fisted in creases of Steve’s trousers, saying I didn’t want to leave with you knowing, without telling— 

It hurts so bad, it hurts so good. He can’t stop reading them, can’t look away.

This is one train wreck he wants to watch, wants it to wreck him, wants to remember what this feeling was like, that they never touched it but it was real– oh god, it was so real–

Hundreds of strangers keep bringing him back to life. His blue coat, his uniform from the docks, his sunday best. Steve knew them all, has drawn them all, knows the smell and the way Buck really did once fist his hands in Steve’s uniform and look at him like they’d both just been raised from the dead.

He thought he might. 

Just that one moment. That one time. After they’d been rescued, before they called themselves the Howling Commandos. 

Back when they were just Steve and Buck and he still looked wild and haunted (died wild and haunted) and Steve was on his knees before him, checking him again for a wound he couldn’t find (a wound that ran too deep) and Bucky’s hands on his face, his shoulders, fisted in his jacket and his eyes flicking to Steve’s lips, to Steve’s hands, to Steve’s eyes.

They didn’t kiss.

It wouldn’t have been right, then. After he’d been damn near tortured to death (to this day, Steve can’t handle that he never found a wound–).

But. 

He read that fic.

That’s how he’d like to think it went down.

It should’ve gone down (that is, if Bucky had wanted, he looked like he’d wanted, but Steve was a coward, put him to bed and stayed up another hour to watch him sleep, fitfully–)

The movies are good, yeah, sweet or painful or silly. 

Something mindless to keep him from wandering off to far.

But the stories are better. And the stories hurt.

Closer to the truth.

Lonely men in shirtsleeves, leaning out of windows. 

There was way more at stake than anything those couples would ever know.

(Steve never tells Tony that he looked, but one day he gives Steve this look, a serious one, that’s what tips him off, before he gently squeezes Steve’s shoulder and goes back to work. Maybe Steve needs to have a talk with Jarvis about privacy among other matters.)

Besides, it’s nice, Always 1895 nice to think that there, in that strange place where everything is infinite, Bucky lives. 

She's in the House.. Find Her

If you live in Menifee, CA and there is a knock at your door tonight, don’t answer it. More importantly, don’t leave anyone in the house by themselves. Get your phone, call the police, and stay together. I’m writing this as I’m sitting in this police station questioning room as a warning. So that what happened to me last night, won’t happen to you tonight…
I live on my own in suburbia. Nice little neighborhood. The kind of place where kids will be playing out in the street with parents doing yard work when you pull into your driveway. That’s exactly how last night began. My girlfriend and I pulled in and got out of the car. We waved to the kids and had a friendly chat with Mrs. Roop next door. This was the kind of life I always imagined. And at 20 I couldn’t believe it had already happened for me. We went inside and started our evening. We made dinner. We love cooking together, there’s a symmetry between us that just… works. We ate, watched some TV downstairs. Just a normal night. Once it was time we went upstairs, she started doing her nightly routine girls always do in the bathroom, and I just laid in bed, reading Penpal for the twentieth time. With the fan going and the water running from the bathroom, I almost didn’t hear it. I wish now that the fan was set to 3 instead of 2, because then everything would be different. But no, it was just faint enough for me to hear the sound over everything else.

knock knock knock

I reached over and clicked the fan off. I waited for a moment listening…

knock knock knock

“God damn it.” I thought. I put my book down on the nightstand and got up. I grabbed my zip-up off the chair and threw it on. As I walked out of the room I could hear my girlfriend starting to say something, but I wanted to get rid of whoever was at the door first. I slumped down the stairs a little pissy, thinking that if this was another solicitor trying to sell me glass cleaner I was going to have a fit. I zipped up the jacket as I flicked the light on next to the front door. I looked through the peephole, but it was pitch black. I flicked the outside light on. Still pitch black. I figured the light bulb had gone out again, as I have had problems with it before. Reluctantly I twisted the deadbolt and opened the door.

Nothing.

No one was there. I poked my head out to look around. The yard and driveway were empty. Looking back I made so many horrible mistakes. I stepped out onto the welcome mat. The streets were empty and silent, minus the hum from the street lights. I scoffed and figured it was the kids just trying to play a prank. I turned and walked back inside. After re-locking the door and heading back for the stairs, I started to have a feeling. Something just didn’t feel right in my stomach and I knew that only one thing was going to put it at ease.

Food.

I walked down the hallway into the kitchen and flicked on the light. Opening up the fridge I started to scan the shelves for something quick and easy to eat. I settled on one of those wafer peanut butter and chocolate bars that you can get at the dollar stores. I keep them in the fridge so they don’t melt in my hand when I’m eating them. I peeled back the plastic wrapper and as I was taking my first bite, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. The window above the kitchen sink… was open. I’d never opened that window for the entire time I’d lived here. I thought back trying to remember when it could have happened, and then I recalled her saying that she was feeling really hot while she was doing the dishes. She must have opened it to try and cool off. I walked over and slid it shut, and finally made my way back upstairs. I walked back into the bedroom and the water was still running. I went to the entrance to the bathroom. “Did you say something earli-” I began to stay but stopped. The bathroom was empty. Water continued to pour out of the faucet, steam floating up, clinging to the mirror. I stopped the water and turned around to scan the room, she wasn’t there. “Amanda?” I called out. No answer. I went to the walk in closet. Nothing. I started to leave the room, but again something catches my eye. I glanced at my nightstand, and on top of my book, was a piece of paper. It was folded in half and set up, making it look like a little tent. I reached out and picked it up. The first thing I obviously saw was the blood. It was a bloody fingerprint on the corner of the paper. My heart started to race. Finally my brain let my eyes pan over to read what it said, and even now, I wish it wouldn’t have.

She’s in the house… find her.

I read it those six words over and over. I looked around the room again, hoping to see Amanda just hiding in the corner snickering like she’d pulled off an amazing prank. But the room was empty. I walked around the room, looking behind chairs, inside the shower, inside the closet. I looked at the bed and felt like a 6 year old again as I slowly knelt down to look underneath. My hands had apparently been getting sweaty because they kept slipping slightly against the hardwood floor. I bent down and lifted the skirt of the bed.

Nothing.

Just a couple dust bunnies and an old pair of shoes that I keep meaning to throw out. I stood back up and started to become agitated. My mind didn’t know whether this was a joke or if I needed to be terrified.

“Amanda!” I yelled, “This isn’t funny anymore, now just come out.”

Silence.

“Look I’m really freaked out, so stop this!”

I walked out into the upstairs hallway and quickly went through all the rooms. The spare bedroom. Empty. The exercise room. Empty. Other upstairs bathroom. Empty. I ran downstairs and looked everywhere there, too. It was if she just vanished, and all that was left was this note. I figured that the only thing left to do was to call the police. I ran back upstairs and into the bedroom. The bathroom faucet must have had a leak because as I entered I started hearing faint drips of water. I went to the dresser to grab my phone, but it wasn’t there. Neither were my keys, or wallet. I spun and looked at my nightstand. They weren’t there. I grabbed my jeans I wore that day (I was in sweats by now) and checked the pockets. Empty. I threw the jeans on the floor in anger. I stood there for a moment without a clue of what I should do.

drip drip drip

I stormed into the bathroom and twisted the knob.

drip drip

I hit the faucet getting pissed but then I froze.

There was no water in the sink.

And the drips sounded further away.

I slowly walked back out into the bedroom.

drip drip

I moved around trying to determine where it was coming from. As I moved closer to the bed… it got louder. Once again, I slowly dropped to my knees, and bent over next to the bed. My hand slowly reached for the bed skirt, and lifted it up. For every drip my heart pounded fifty times. I sank my head down and looked under the bed. And then I saw it. A small pool or red about a foot in front of me. With more dripping down from above. I jumped to my feet and pulled the sheets off the bed. I slid my hands in between the mattress and the box spring, and after a moment of hesitation, I flung the mattress up with everything I had.

My throat closed instantly. I couldn’t comprehend what was in front of me. My mind would only let me process the image one fraction at a time. At first I just saw my box spring, sitting inside my bed frame. Then I saw that there was a huge tear down the middle of the box spring.

And then I saw Amanda. Inside the box spring. Her beautiful face poking out from the tear. Then there was her neck, which was nothing but red. The final thing that my mind let me see appeared. It was right in the center, laying on her stomach… another note. I couldn’t move. Tears were streaming down my face uncontrollably, but I didn’t make a sound. My hands began to violently shake and my knees collapsed onto the edge of the box spring. I reached out and pulled Amanda’s body up. My girl, my life, my everything. I wrapped my arms around her and started to scream.

The note slid off her hitting the box spring. My hand slowly moved down towards the note, now barely even able to bend my fingers. I somehow managed to grasp the note and bring it up to my eyes. My vision was completely blurred from the tears. I wiped them against my jacket sleeve and looked at the note. Again there was a bloody finger print, but at this point it could have been mine. Everything is hazy from those moments. But the words… the words are forever burned into my memory. They are the reason I am sitting here now, the reason I ran out of my house screaming for help.
But where am I?

anonymous asked:

Hey I saw your post about having something a reader might be dying to read, do you think you could write something fluffy from your prompt list? Today was just a terrible day in general and your fics always cheer me up.

For you, dear. I’ve chosen to fill the word prompt Gargalesis (heavy tickling often leading to laughter) that was sent to me anonymously quite some time ago (thank you for your patience).


Ticklish

She knew she should have gone to bed hours ago. She was stressed and the day had left her feeling absolutely drained. Solas had tried to coax her into retiring for the evening once the others began to clear out of the rotunda, but she refused. Honestly, she just wanted to spend some time with him. He was a balm to her nerves and she found it soothing to be in his presence. She wouldn’t admit to this, of course. No – his advisement was met with unconvincing claims of not being tired. Though it was clear he didn’t believe her, he made no argument when she curled up next to him on the couch, his eyes not lifting from his book. When she leaned in closer to peer over his arm, she felt him twitch. It was a distinct movement, a sudden and small jerk, a quick intake of breath and then nothing – the placid calm returning to his face.

Her eyes narrowed.

She tested her theory, touching his side again with a quick pinch and he jerked again, turning his head toward her, frowning.

“Stop that.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Are you ticklish, Solas?”

He huffed dismissively, glancing back down at the book.

Her grin widened.

Her hand went back to his side again, not as a gentle prodding test but as an attack, pinching along his ribs as he twisted, scooting away until his back was pushed against the arm of the couch. He was fighting laughter, that much was obvious, his lips pursed tightly and his glare did nothing to hide the bright look in his eyes. “You’re being childish,” he snapped.

“Then admit that you’re ticklish.”

“I’m not.”

That was all the provocation she needed. She lunged forward, crawling onto him despite his attempts to push her back, her fingers mercilessly pressing his sides. He squirmed, sputtering behind tightly pinched lips, eyes narrowing and mouth twisting as he tried to pry her fingers away. There was a breathless quality to the sounds that caught in his throat, his legs kicking, fighting the grin that was tearing at the corners of his lips. He grabbed for her hands, yet each time he’d grip her she’d slip away again, attacking at a new angle. He bucked his hips up suddenly beneath her and she let out a playful shriek as she felt herself falling off of the couch. She did not fall alone, his body following her, rolling her onto the floor of his study, pinning her beneath him. He finally caught a solid hold on her wrists, holding them above her head. She took some small satisfaction in the fact that she had him panting by the time he’d gotten her immobilized.

“If you’re looking for revenge, you’re out of luck,” she said, grinning. “I’m not ticklish.”

“Is that so?” he asked, shifting his hold on her until he had both her hands held under one of his own. He pulled his free hand down, dragging his fingers along her underarm. She lifted an eyebrow, smirking. 

“Amateur.”

His eyes narrowed, his touch lowering to trace her sides. She looked up at him, her face steady, her expression filled with mischief and satisfaction. There was not so much as a twitch in her lips, no hint that she was affected in the slightest by his efforts. After a few moments of his exploration, she feigned a yawn. “Are you quite finished?”

There was something in his expression she could not quite place – a flash in his eyes that made her stomach jump. His fingers began to work on the fastenings to her jacket, flicking them open. He watched her face as he did and she was breathless for a whole new reason, unrelated to wrestling with him moments before. “What are you doing?” she asked. He did not answer, pulling her jacket open, sliding the hem of her tunic up until it rested just beneath her breasts. His eyes were still set on her own as she felt him drag a single finger down the length of her stomach, his nail lightly scraping skin. “Are you still on about that?” she asked with a small laugh. “I told you, I’m not-” Her stomach tightened slightly. She swallowed. “-ticklish,” she finished quickly. But she knew he had caught the tell from the way his lips curled. He repeated the motion – slow nails dragging on skin and soon her toes were curling in her boots, her lips pinched tightly. It wasn’t the kind of tickling she was used to- not the quick pinches that had never had any effect on her. This sank deep under her skin, crawling its way down her spine. Her back began to twist, her hips shifting beneath him yet he merely increased the weight of his own, holding her in place as he began to increase the extent of his assault. New angles, sweeping across her stomach and soon she was choking back giggles.

“Ok, stop,” she said. “You’ve proven your point.”

“Have I?” he asked innocently. “And what point is that precisely?” He increased his speed and yet the light drag of his touch remained the same and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Stomach muscles jumping, her hips bucking underneath him, back arching, squirming, unable to contain the uncontrolled peel of laughter that echoed into the levels above, bright and loud and nearly shrieking as he mercilessly pressed onward. Her heels dug against the stone, writhing, barely able to gather the breath to tell him to stop. Her wriggling started to loosen his hold on her somewhat and soon she had an arm free, her hand trying to capture his own. She was able to slip one of her legs out to his side, curling it around him, trying to push back on his hip with her foot and he laughed, amused at her attempts to free herself as he remained unmoved above her. She let out a frustrated sound, a growl swallowed in a gasp as she gave up trying to catch his hand. Instead, she gripped the leather cording around his neck and dragged him down, capturing his mouth with her own. She bit down hard on his lip which only made him laugh harder. She finally felt like she could breathe again, a sudden rush of relief when he moved his hand away from her stomach, cupping the nape of her neck and easing her into releasing her hold on his lip, coaxing her into a proper kiss. When he pulled away she glared up at him fiercely.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” she said between heavy breaths.

He smirked, brushing hair out of her face. “I am certain you will.”


Want more Solasmance? Check out my other Solas x Lavellan fics.

Colt didn’t have any choice in the matter of being at the President’s house for the new celebration of the Victor. It was the last thing on his list of things he wanted to do but of course, they didn’t have a choice. Not a lot of people saw him in the Victor’s Village to begin with, because if he could help it, he stayed inside unless a medical staff had to come in and save him from bleeding out or suffocating – dependent on the method of which he attempted to take his own life again. It was harder to do whatever he wanted with Audrina living with him. 

Today, Colt simply didn’t think about anything. He came dressed in his ball outfit, his black cowboy hat covering his hair and shading his face as he looked on from the doorway at the bright lights and the dancing bodies. His fingers numbly played with the corner of a cigarette carton in his pants pocket. He was starting to get shaky, so he knew he’d have to grab a smoke eventually. The twenty-nine-year-old Victor stood watching in the shade of the hallway as he recognized some of his peers having a better time than he was. Not that any of them really did like what was going on here. It was easy to see on everyone’s faces. There were plenty of them who only came here because they had to, not because they wanted to. It was a damn shame. 

However, as he stood there, he started to feel like someone was watching him, so he quickly dipped his head and slinked away from the doorway, hoping no one had noticed him standing there out of the way of the party. He walked out toward one of the many balconies in the giant manor, sliding his cigarette pack out just as he walked outside into the fresh air. He took a deep breath and leaned against the railing, plucking a white stick from the pack and slipping it between his lips as he heard the crickets chirping in the deep blue night. He sighed through his nose as he reached in to grab his lighter from his inside jacket pocket, flicked the stone and cupped the end of his cigarette to light it. Just as he could feel the smoke billowing into his lungs and out the corners of his mouth he heard soft clicking of footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, his handsome blue eyes looking at the intruder with a deadpanned stare as he took a slow drag from the cigarette and took it out of his mouth to hold at his side, ashing it at his thigh with a flick of his thumb. 

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong, am I?” Colt asked, his voice soft as his thick southern accent dominated his words.

goodnight ; luke au pt 2

part one 

“See you tomorrow,” she said, waving to her coworkers as she grabbed her stuff. She went through her simple routine of dressing herself in her outerwear, tugging on her gloves and slinging her bag over her shoulder before she stepped outside.

But this time, her routine was cut short when she peered outside. It had been snowing all night, soft flakes falling from the sky and draping the world in a white blanket. But that’s not what had stopped her.

Keep reading

pinkhairedpineapple-deactivated  asked:

High School AU where Feyre and Rhysand, the artist and bad boy respectivley, crash into each other (i know, how cliche) and flirt and cute shit.

Rhys sauntered down the hallway, clad in his ever-present leather jacket. Without even trying, he made kids cower, though it wasn’t his intention. He stared down at his jacket, flicking off an imaginary piece of lint. Taking his eyes off the crowded hallway was not a good idea. He crashed smack into someone, and everything in both of their arms went flying onto the tile. 

Shit,” he muttered, bending down to pick up the few books he’d been carrying and his motorcycle helmet. Scattered around his belongings were a couple more textbooks and a painting. Rhys picked it up, examining it. A cough sounded in front of him. “Oh, sorry. Guess this is yours?” 

The girl in front of him nodded, attempting to snatch it from his hands, but he pulled it away. 

“You should really watch where you’re going.” Rhys couldn’t stop staring at her. Her honey-brown hair was loose and fell over one shoulder, slightly curling at the ends. She looked up at him. “Well? Are you going to give it back or?” 

“This is really good.” He handed it back to her. 

“Yeah, thanks. See ya.” She got up and began walking away from him. Rhys stood there, stunned for a minute, before he jogged to catch up with her. 

“Listen, buddy, I’m really not interesting in being a part of a rom-com right now, so could you just back off?” 

“I haven’t even done anything!” 

“Were you not going to ask me out just then?” Silence. He was going to ask her out. “Exactly. I don’t need it. I’ll see you around.” She picked up her pace and walked into the parking lot. She sure would see him around. He wasn’t letting her go. 

no more please!

Stiles/Allison- We’ll Do It For Her

Request-  Imagine being Allison’s bestfriend since her first day in Beacon Hills High School, you presented her to Lydia and Jackson, you supported her everytime she need it so when she died you were the most hurt, you went though depression and skipped school for a week until Stiles confronted you, and told him everything you felt and he promise everything well be alright because he’s always going to protect you

Warnings- Slight mention of suicide and depression

A/N-Next up is part 2 of that Liam imagine.

You sat on the floor of your room, your back pressed up against the edge of your bed. You stared at the photos tacked up on your wall, ones of you, Allison and Lydia. You felt the tears threatening to spill over again, tears that had been falling nonstop since Allison’s death.
At first you had been numb, not believing that your best friend could be dead. But after you defeated the nogitsune, the realization finally hit you. You got home that night, taking off your jacket and flicking on your bedroom light, only to catch sight of a picture of you and Allison, taken just before the alpha pack came to town.
The picture had been taken by Lydia, mid-laugh, and you and Allison looked the happiest you had been in a long time. You saw that the shirt Allison was wearing in the photo was one you were wearing right then, something she had let you borrow.
You took one look at the picture and just snapped, trying desperately to rip the shirt off your body. It seemed like such a trivial thing, but now you would never get to give it back to her.
Suddenly incredibly angry, you tore the shirt off, flinging it across the room. You tried to fight the tears dripping down your face, but you couldn’t. With an angry sob, you walked forward, trying to destroy anything that reminded you of Allison.
You gathered up clothes that you had shared, some hers, some yours, and shoved them into your trashcan. You shoved everything off your desk, where you two had studied together, letting notebooks and pens topple to the floor.
You had whirled around, facing your closet door which was covered with photos, most of them you and Allison. You reached out, intending to tear them down, but you found that you couldn’t bear to destroy them.
So here you sat, staring at the only hard-copy memories you had of your best friend. You had been holed up in your room for a week, not being able to step out of the house, or even leave your room. You had barely eaten, and your parents had stopped trying to talk to you, just leaving plates outside your door during mealtimes.
None of your other friends had stopped by, not even Lydia, but you figured they were just dealing with their own grief. It wasn’t like you were trying to talk to them either.
You wanted to find the strength to get up, to continue living your life, but you just weren’t ready. You just kept sitting there, replaying all the memories you had of Allison, praying you wouldn’t forget anything.
You  remembered her first day in Beacon Hills, and you had immediately recognized her as a new girl. You had gone right up to her, introducing yourself. She was such a sweetie, and there was such a lack of that in your group since you spent most of your time around Lydia and Jackson. You immediately brought her into the fold, and from then on it was history.
You had been with her through everything, finding out about the supernatural, her mother’s death, even when Gerard had manipulated her. She had pratcially been your other half, and you didn’t know how you could keep going without her.

Stiles walked through the halls, looking through the crowds of other kids around him. As his eyes roamed the hall, a few kids met his eyes, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel like they knew everything. Like they knew what he had done.
Scott had sworn that what Stiles had done while he was possessed by the nogitsune wasn’t really him, but there were some things he hadn’t even told Scott. He had felt every second of what he did to those people, to his friends, and he had enjoyed it. For once in his life, he had felt powerful, and he had relished in it.
He hadn’t been strong enough to keep the nogitsune out, and because of him it had killed people. At the hospital, at the sheriff’s station, even killing one of his best friends. Allison was dead because of him, and while no one said it, he knew it was his fault. He knew no one blamed him, but blaming himself was enough.
He walked into the cafeteria, going right to your usual table and sitting down. He hadn’t gotten lunch for the past few days. He just hadn’t been hungry.
Soon the table began to fill up with people. Scott, Lydia, Kira and Malia were all there, but as he looked around, he realized he didn’t see you. You weren’t at school for the sixth day in a row.
“Hey, has anyone heard from Y/n?” he asked suddenly.
“Who’s Y/n?” Malia asked.
Since you hadn’t been to school, you hadn’t officially met Malia, and she hadn’t met you. Everyone ignored her question, sharing a look with each other. It didn’t look like anyone had even tried to contact you.
“Did anyone at least go by and check on her?” Stiles asked.
Everyone shook their heads, and Stiles began to feel a pit forming in his stomach. Everyone knew how close you and Allison had been, and Stiles had no idea how you were dealing with her death. A disturbing thought crossed his mind, and he felt like he was going to throw up.
He couldn’t handle another death, and if you decided to take your own life because of Allison, it would be his fault. He pushed his chair away from table and stood up.
“Wait, Stiles, where are you going?” Scott asked. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’m not hungry,” was all he said, before slipping out of the cafeteria.

It was Monday, and you had finally come out of your room, deciding you needed to shower and brush your teeth. Sure it wasn’t much, but it was a start. You had just put on some fresh pajamas, not even bothering to dry your soaking wet hair when the doorbell rang.
Your parents had finally gone back to work, so there was no one to answer the door but you. You sighed, knowing you looked awful but not even caring at this point. You opened the door, shocked to see Stiles standing on your porch.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You uh, you haven’t been at school.”
“I know,” you said softly.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked. “I mean, I know she was your best friend and-”
He stopped when he saw the look on your face, his eyes widening when you suddenly broke into tears.
“Oh shit,” he breathed. “I’m-I’m sorry. I, uh, that was stupid, and, um…”
You huffed and rolled your eyes, sniffling a little. “It’s fine,” you told him. “Do you wanna come in?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” you offered politely, wiping your red eyes.
“No thanks,” he said. “I haven’t really been hungry.”
“Me neither,” you told him, sitting on the couch.
Stiles stood there awkwardly for a minute, until you patted the spot next to you. “Everyone’s back at school,” he stated. “And Malia started taking classes.”
“Malia Tate?” you asked, your eyes widening. “The coyote?”
“That’s the one,” Stiles told you.
“Wow,” you whispered. “Everything’s okay right?” you asked. “Nothing’s trying to kill us again?”
“Not that we know of,” he told you.
“Good,” you said softly, pushing wet hair out of your face. “Because I don’t think I could take losing anyone else. I don’t…I don’t even know if I can do this without her Stiles.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s not,” you assured him. “It wasn’t you. Allison-she knew that. I know you weren’t there, but she wasn’t mad, or even scared. She told Scott that it-that it was okay.”
Your voice got wobbly, and you began to cry again. “She kept saying that. She kept saying it was okay…it’s not okay.”
Stiles wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you cried into his chest. “It’s not gonna last forever,” he told you. “I mean, it’s still gonna hurt, but it won’t be as bad. And we’re not going to lose anyone else, I swear. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, or to anyone else. Allison had a code right?”
“What?” you asked.
“Her family’s code. The one she changed,” he stated. “What was it?”
“We protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
You remembered how excited Allison had been when she came up with it, how proud she had been that she was finally doing something effective in her family’s name.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Stiles promised you. “We’ll do it for her.”