A hand braided bracelet made from genuine deerskin leather and adorned with bronze and copper leaf, acorn, and pine corn charms. This pieces’ centerpiece is a beautiful pearly white crescent moon charm.
Could you please write a Brett one where the reader’s Liam’s best friend
and she naturally doesn’t like Brett but Stiles forces them to stay at
home together to watch over someone and they end up doing it in the
IM BAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK i apologize for taking so long anon but here it isss!!!!! not as smutty as it could have been but vvvvvv fluffy
HUGE SHOUT OUT TO ROBERT FOR EDITING FOR ME. THANK YOU V V V V MUCH BB ILY ANGEL THANK YOU CUTIE ILY
Warnings: LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST; ALLISON’S DEATH; SMUTTY SMUT SMUT; BRETT SO FLUFFY YOUR HEART MIGHT DIE; FIGHTING READERXBRETT; BLOOD; BEST FRIEND!LIAM; ALPHA!SCOTT
“No. Absolutely not!”
Stiles sighs at your stubbornness. “Please Y/N,” the he pleads with you, “Please, we need you to watch him, just this once.”
“Are you kidding me, Stiles?” you growl, E/C eyes flashing blue, “It’s not about that. But you expect me, while you go out looking for this Benefactor, for me to stay home with the giraffe over here and some random ass beta?” Brett growls and bares his canines at your words. You only sneer at him before letting out a challenging snarl. Brett roars in provocation and advances towards you, eyes glowing, teeth bared, claws extended. But you weren’t afraid. You felt your own canines slide over your lip, and then a chick is heard as you reveal your sharpened claws.
“Bring it, Talbot,” you jeer as he let’s out yet another growl. And then he’s rushing at you. A few feet in front of you, Brett leaps in the air and raises a clawed hand to slash at you. You push yourself off the wall behind you and meet him halfway. The two of you crash in midair and fall to the ground. Brett slashes at your face and you go for his throat with your teeth. You roar in pain as the Talbot boy’s claws drag across your face, easily breaking the soft flesh. Blood drips down your face as you catch his wrist in your mouth, biting down so that the bone fractures. He snarls and struggles against your powerful hold. You release him with a howl of pain when his claws dig into your stomach. Writhing out of his grip on the floor, you deliver a two-legged kick to Brett’s chest and the he shoots away from you.
Brett cradles his injured hand and multiple cracks are heard as his body puts his bones back into place. You hiss as you feel your own wound mending and the skin flowing back together. Your fangs have dulled but your eyes remain glowing a steel blue as you get up and face Brett once again. You snarl at him, hatred burning in his own eyes as you stare each other down.
As you raise your hand to rip his throat out, a roar is emitted from Scott. Your Alpha’s eyes are blood red, and his multitude of sharpened canines were showing as he roared. Both you and Brett are thrown back by an invisible force, though it affected you more than he. You’re immediately shifted back to your human form as you hit the wall. Clawing at your ears, you whimper, just the noise made by your Alpha was hurting you. You whimper again, your body being wracked by tremors from an unknown source. Liam is by your side in less than a second on his knees.
“Scott,” Liam growls, “What did you do?”
“I was being her Alpha.”
Eventually the tremors stop and you get up with only slight discomfort, Liam at your side, shooting you an apologetic glance You narrow your eyes at Brett before turning to Scott and Stiles.
“Y/N,” he sighs, “Please.”
“Fine,” you say with a tone so cold, you scared yourself, “You owe me.”
“What, Brett?” you respond, exasperated beyond caring.
What? You turn to the Talbot boy and raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”
Brett shifted awkwardly, staring at his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm… sorry? For, you know, attacking you, and clawing you, and-and ripping your shirt, and um-” he motions to the blood, cuts, and rips that seem to cover your body all too often since you’ve met Scott McCall and Derek Hale. In the 3 years that you’ve known Brett Talbot, you’ve never seen him like this. Awkward, nervous even.
“Wait, wai-wai-wai-wai-wait,” you hold up a hand to stop Brett’s rambling. “Is Brett Talbot, apologizing to me? Wow, what a day! Do you mind if I can just record it?”
“Stop it!” You laugh at Brett’s disbelieving face. “I’m serious, I-I really am sorry.”
Your gaze flickers to the ground as your lips begin to curl into a smile and Brett can’t help as a grin spreads across his face. “You’re forgiven.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“Really?” When you nod, a sigh of relief escapes Brett’s mouth. He steps towards you, toned abs showing through the claw marks that you had left in his shirt. Brett takes another step, and against your instincts, you don’t take a step back. Hesitantly, Brett raises his hand, and pauses, before reaching towards your face. He uses his middle and ring finger to brush your hair out of your face. Brett’s ears twitch at the sound out your heartbeat quickening. Ironically, you can hear his own heart racing.
Brett towers over you, tracing a line of blood across your cheek, the skin smooth underneath as you had healed hours ago. He let’s out a breathy laugh through his nose as he continues to stroke your cheek. Your eyes follow his hand, to his wrist, where a braided leather bracelet was tied, up his arm, to the pulled-up sleeve of his long sleeve shirt. Your eyes linger on his shoulder, the muscles bulging, even as he was relaxed, then to his neck, stopping for a moment on his jawline, then to his lips, which were quirked into a trifling smile, and finally to his eyes. His bright green eyes were soft, gazing at you with such tenderness you didn’t think was possible towards you from the Talbot boy.
Your hand lifted and covered Brett’s own on your cheek. Brett cocks his head to the side, and barely, just barely, leans down to close the distance between his lips and your own. Brett leans in a little more and you breathe in sharply as he gazes at your lips, his eyes flickering yellow for just a moment. Brett closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “You- uh, you should probably go shower,” his hand falls from your face, dragging yours with him. Brett squeezes your hand, “Go, I can watch Bailey until you’re done.”
You nod and allow Brett’s hand to slip from your grasp. Brett can’t help but watch as you leave and begin to climb the stairs. You pause for a moment and for a second, Brett hopes that you might stay, but you turn away from him and make your way up to Scott’s room.
As you open a drawer to grab some of your clothes that are kept at Scott’s house, you grimace at the box of condoms on the shelf. Kira, you thought, before shuddering and digging out an old t-shirt of your brother’s and a pair of sweats, a bra, panties, and socks. You connect your phone to a speaker and place them both on the counter. You had already turned on the water to make sure that it was warm by the time you climbed in.
You sigh in relief as the warm water hits your back. Reaching for the body wash, you lather it over you hand and scrub your body, scrubbing roughly at the blood on your face, your arms, and your sides. You wince as the water turns pink from the blood of your now-healed injuries. You just stand there and watch as the pink water pales until it returns to the normal transparent color. Blindly, you reach for the shampoo, but instead knock into it. You watch it fall to the shower floor.
“Fuck,” you mutter, reaching down to grab the bottle from the tile. Your hands close around it and you bring it up to squeeze some into your hair. You massage your head slowly as the water washes the shampoo away. The conditioner came next, the cream softening your hair under the spray of water. You sigh as you sit down and allow the water to hit your back. You don’t realize how much time has passed as you just sit there and think. You didn’t know why you and Brett hated each other as much as you did. You shouldn’t. Lydia had told you many times that if you hadn’t hated each other as much as you say you did, you would be perfect for each other. Allison used to tell you the same, whenever you complained about the “asshat my parents make me hang out with.”
Allison. She didn’t deserve her death. None of your friends did. Not Erica, not Boyd, not Aiden, but Allison most of all didn’t deserve what happened to her. You can’t help but picture her face as the Oni stabbed her through the stomach. You picture Scott’s face. You picture Argent’s face. But most of all, you can hear your own deafening scream, mixing with Lydia’s until you can’t differentiate between them. A sob escapes your lips as you return to your body. And you remember, Allison has been dead for nigh over a year now. Tears fall from your eyes and mix with the water dripping down your face as memories of Allison run through your head.
The sobs that wracked your body ceased after a little while and eventually you stood, allowing the water to cascade over your whole body. Slowly your brain began to fall into a sort of lull, and nothing went through your head. You just stood there, staring at the tile in front of you. And then you felt a touch to the middle of your back.
“Y/N,” he murmurs softly, dragging his fingertips up your back to your bare shoulder. You were numb at this point, you couldn’t feel anything. And Brett knew this; it would happen to his sister sometimes after their parents died. You had lost too many people, and he knew exactly how to coax you out of your stupor. “Y/N,” he whispers into your ear again. “It’s alright, Y/N, you’re alright. I promise.” His breath hits the back of your neck as his tongue traces the shell of your ear. Your eyes slowly begin to focus at the action, finally becoming conscious of the man standing behind you.
“Brett?” you say quietly, “Where’s Bailey?” “Scott called, it’s over.” Brett’s answer was short and curt.
“What are you doing?” you breath as the werewolf wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your back to his chest. “Brett, what-what are you do-” You break off with gasp as Brett’s lips land on your neck.
“I want to show you how sorry I am,” he hums into your skin. His kisses don’t stop as you tilt your head to the side. “I’m sorry.” Brett’s lips brush over your pulse point and you gasp, letting your head fall against the torso of the giant mix between man and wolf standing behind you. “I’m sorry.”
“Brett, you-you’re forgiven,” you stutter as he continues to mouth at the flesh covering your pulse, “I-I said you’re forgiven.” Brett’s dulled fangs graze your skin and you whimper, chest heaving as you struggled to breathe. “Brett. Brett.”
Your breath hitches at the pet name that fell from his lips. When you don’t answer, Brett lowers his head back to your neck. A moan of his name slips unwillingly from your mouth.
“I just want to make it up to you, darling,” Brett rasps in your ear, “Show you exactly how sorry I am.” A shiver runs down your skin at his words, and you tilt your head even further, if possible. One of his hands snakes down your arm to intertwine your fingers with his. His other hand - oh, his other hand - stays locked around your waist, massaging your hips with the pad of his thumb, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into your skin. “Just relax, darling.”
And you do. Your muscles relax and your head lolls back into Brett’s chest. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, placing kiss after kiss into your neck. “It’s alright darling, you’re alright,” Brett murmurs, slowly turning you around to face him. One of his hands is still around your waist, while the other rises up slowly to brush your dripping hair out of your face.
And finally - finally - Brett leans in and kisses you. It feels as if it’s in slow motion. He glances at your lips before looking back to your eyes, searching for permission. Your expression says it all. You want this. Him. But just to be clear, you give a slight nod of your head. That’s all Brett needs before attaching your lips together.
His lips are soft and smooth. Gentle. He kisses you as if you’ll break. His thumb caresses your cheek as you respond to his touch. Your own arms come up to wrap around his neck. He’s tall, so much so that you have to pull him down by the neck in order to run your fingers through his hair. Brett moans softly when you tug at his hair. The werewolf pulls you closer to him, if possible, and deepens the kisses, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, then taking your top lip between his teeth.
“Brett,” comes the soft whimper from your mouth into his own. He hums in response, not once breaking apart from you. Brett gently backs you up into the shower wall, grip still tight around you. You whimper his name again when Brett separates your lips. His tall frame stares down at you with such tenderness and adoration that you can feel the walls you’ve built around your heart begin crumbling. “Brett,” you breathe once more.”
The Talbot boy’s eyes flash yellow at the way to say his name and he’s having a hard time keeping his wolf in check. “I-” he begins, but cuts himself off and starts over, “Are you sure, Y/N? Are you sure you want this? If I start, Y/N, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. Tell me you want this, Y/N. please, tell me.”
“Brett.” You stand up on the tips of your toes, and you still weren’t tall enough. He bends down slightly to hear your answer. “I want this, Brett,” you breathe against his pink, swollen lips, “I want you.” Brett moans at your words, and drags his fingertips up your sides. Your breath hitches at the action, anticipation for what was to come becoming the only thought in your head.
He doesn’t answer you, only continues his gentle exploration of your body, gentle, absentminded touches memorizing every inch like the lines to his old favorite song. His hands are gentle with you, as if you’re so fragile that you’ll shatter beneath him if he presses too hard.
Your plea of his name brings him out of his daze. He was so mesmerized by you, it was like he couldn’t live without you. Underneath all the hate filled glares, the snide comments, the arguing; beneath all of that, Brett couldn’t help but be totally, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with you. Brett finally kisses you again, before sliding his hands back down your waist to cup your thighs. Without faltering in the kiss, he lifts you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He so tall that you squeal for a moment, breaking your lips from his.
“I’m not used to being this far off the ground,” you mumble, blushing embarrassedly. Brett’s lips part before letting out an unattractive snort. Soon he’s full on laughing. “Bretttt,” you whine, it’s not funny.”
“I-It’s just,” he said between chuckles, “you’re so small. It’s so cute.” Brett kisses you again, peppering kisses all over your face, jaw, cheeks, neck, and lips. “God, you’re beautiful,” Brett gushes, “So beautiful.”
You whimper softly at his words and push your hips against his. “Brett, hurry up, God damn it.” Brett complies, finally. He keeps his eyes locked with yours as he guides his length to your entrance.
“I love you,” he breathes as he ever so slowly slips into you. His confession shocks you and you gape at him, before your eyes roll back into your head. He keeps pushing into you and soon he filled you to the hilt.
“Say it!” you gasp out, needing to his hear his confession once more.
“I love you,” he repeats, “I love you. All of you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve ever done to you. I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“Brett!” you gasp as he pulls back and slams his hips back into yours. “Brett! I love you too! Oh! My! Go-!” Brett presses his lips to yours fervently, whispering sweet nothings against your mouth.
“I love you,” he whispers again, and it wouldn’t be the last time he said it. Brett drops his head to the crook of your neck, a “you’re so beautiful” falling from his lips and causing you to flush against his body.
The more Brett collides his hips with yours, the harder it becomes for you to control yourself. You grip his shoulder with one hand, while the other tangles into and tugs at his damp hair. The water from the shower head is hitting his back, spraying off of his muscled body and protecting you from the drizzle. You just about fall apart when Brett thrusts up into you at a new angle, hitting a spot inside you you didn’t even know existed.
“Brett!” you nearly scream his name as he repeats his action. Brett continues to place kisses along your neck and jaw, whispering for you to come for him.
“You can do it,” Brett murmurs into your ear, “You can do it darling, come for me. Come all over me. I love you. Come for me.”
And you do. You cry out Brett’s name multiple times as your orgasm hits you, writhing in his strong arms that are still wrapped around your body. Brett groans as you clench around him, and that alone is enough to send him over the edge. Brett’s eyes turn yellow and his fangs protrude from his gums as he sends thick streams of cum into your body. As the two of you come down from your high, he presses his forehead to yours. He laughs breathily against your lips and kisses you gently.
“I love you,” he says once more, “I mean it. I really do. I love you.”
A gentle smile spreads across your face. “I love you too, Brett.
But how are we going to tell Scott we had sex in his shower?”
ripped jeans, panic attacks, a crackling fire, denim jackets, braided leather bracelets, wanderlust, dried flowers, chewed fingernails, mason drinking jars, hot cocoa with cinnamon, tears of frustration, skipping class because you’re overwhelmed, chipped nail polish, each scar telling a different story, hesitant kisses, brick walls, crying in the middle of class, oversized hoodies, messy writing in textbooks, homemade t-shirts, bottled up insecurities, boisterous laughter in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on the back of your neck, tungsten rings, retro vinyls, books with handwritten commentary in the margins, intrusive thoughts, prank wars
blurry photographs, milk and honey, yelling at someone who insulted your friend, fact checking, plants in hand-painted pots, sugar cookies with sprinkles, the feeling of achieving victory through teamwork, tulle skirts, mentoring first years, caramel drizzle, burying your face in someone's neck and crying, curled fists, matchmaking attempts, sweets from Honeydukes, sneaking into another dorm at night to comfort a friend, blind loyalty, brown leather jackets, tears of anger over injustices, floral button-ups, breakfast for dinner, friendship bracelets, stealing kisses between library shelves, cozy window seats, multicolored gel pens, proving someone wrong, warm vanilla sugar perfume, chewed lips, jars filled with buttons
doodles on homework, coffee stains on your scarf, choking on your pride, blank sheet music, fidget bracelets, oversized sweaters, using everything as a bookmark, scented candle collections, succulents on window sills, taking naps during class, anxiety attacks, chewed pen caps, patterned tights, Shakespearean insults, crying because you feel stupid, learning shorthand, animal-shaped slippers, numbly listening to music, competing for the top of class, having a dozen mugs but only ever using your favorite, bouncing your leg, hardcover journals, stubborn biases, low participation marks, counting freckles, forehead kisses, baggy sweats, ink-stained fingertips
marble floors, pristine white adidas, grass stained skinny jeans, handwritten letters, the fear of disappointing your parents, thick-knit blankets, icy glares, night terrors due to anxiety, organized chaos, insatiable curiosity, colored hair, working together on homework assignments, playing the social chameleon, really nice pens, watercolor palettes, being protective of the people you love, placing bets, pressed leaves, holding back tears, having to wear a mouth guard because you grind your teeth in your sleep, rolling your eyes, working hard to fix your mistakes, latte art, heart-shaped lockets, nervous giggling, creative insults, wool socks, old trunks full of collective trinkets, pretending you're fine when you're not
He’s only been walking for about a minute before something in the air
changes. Frowning, Castiel Novak looks up from where he’s been watching his
step to take a look at the copse of trees around him, shivering slightly
against the wind. The rain has finally cleared to give way for sunset–gold
light spilling across hill and rock. It’s beautiful in an ancient, abandoned
sort of way… but something in the air has him alert and careful.
This glen demands respect.
He pays special attention to his steps from then on, careful not to put
his feet anywhere outside the marked paths.
The more Castiel walks, the faster his heart beats and his body curls
into itself, and suddenly, the nice Scottish man who picked him up on the side
of the road and drove him to the fairie glen doesn’t seem so crazy.
“They’re there,” he’d said sagely, nodding up the road.
“Ye canna see ‘em, but they are. And if they choose you, lad, well… ye
best do whatever they want, because fairies are a fickle sort.“
Dunvegan, the faerie castle, is a big and imposing outcropping of rocks,
and after seeing the old and new spirals on its other side, Cas carefully makes
his way to the top. There are a couple of people making their way back down,
and he nods to them as they pass.
But to get to the top, he has to climb up a narrow passageway. He goes
from thinking he can fit with his backpack, to being completely stuck.
has made an error of judgement. He thought this would be harder sober. He was
wrong. This would have been easier sober. Because right now his slightly muddled
mind can’t sort the thoughts that he wants to have from the ones he doesn’t. He’s
put his head down on his arms to stop himself from looking at Jehan. Jehan who’s
wearing white tonight. White with lace edges. And not a single mismatched
colour to spoil it. But still with that braided leather bracelet with little
bells tied around their right ankle. Jehan…
gentle sound of hollow wood and suddenly there’s music. Montparnasse raises his
head. Grantaire has a guitar. He blinks. Where did Grantaire get a guitar? Does
Bahorel play the guitar?
something R,” Bahorel drawls, stretching out even longer on the floor.
plucks the strings idly, his eyes half closed. “I don’t entertain on my own,”
he says. “I lack the exhibitionist soul.”
Bahorel pipes up again. “Sing something so Grantaire’s fucking shy soul will
play us a damn song.”
forgets to breathe. Jehan sings?
Jehan smiles, pushing at Bahorel’s knee with their bare foot.
sings I leave,” Grantaire announces.
exhales and lowers his head onto his arms again. He’s wishes Éponine would
hurry up with Wonder Boy and I’m-No-Longer-Allow-To-Call-Her-Wonder-Gal. She
texted him they were twenty minutes away half an hour ago.
keeps plucking the strings, but there seems a little more method to the rhythm
this time. Suddenly there’s chords and Montparnasse’s stupid foggy head is
still trying to figure out how notes became chords when-
“If you’ll be my star
I’ll be your sky
You can hide underneath me and come out at night…”
voice is sweet and lovely because of course it is. Montparnasse has heard them
recite poetry before, but this is not the same. This is so so much worse.
“When I turn jet black
And you show off your light
I live to let you shine
I live to let you shine…”
The words are
all wrong. Jehan has never worn a scrap of black. Half of Montparnasse wants to
argue and the other half wants to shut up and listen and all of him raises his
head and opens his eyes and he should not have done that.
swaying, almost dancing, next to Grantaire who sits hunched over the guitar,
eyes still half closed. Bahorel is now stretched out on the floor like a
starfish, grinning at the ceiling. Jehan’s feet are moving and the bells on
their ankle are making the softest possible sounds as they catch the light and
Montparnasse is staring.
“But you can skyrocket away from me
And never come back if you find another galaxy
Far from here with more room to fly
Just leave me your stardust to remember you by…”
is burning at the back of Montparnasse’s throat. He can’t… Why should the black
sky be satisfied with stardust? It didn’t even touch the star. The least the
star can do is stay…
words start to blur together until he can only hear the sound, the warmth, the
lovely rise and fall of their voice. Every now and again a sentence bleeds
through the melody and they are so sweet and so painful.
“I live to make you free…
I live to make you free…”
words describing someone selfless and generous. Someone capable of seeing something
beautiful and not wanting it with their whole soul to never ever let it go
again. Someone utterly unlike Montparnasse. Those are awful, mocking words and
it is unfair that they are the most beautiful thing he has ever hear. So
terribly, horribly unfair.
“Just leave me your stardust to remember you by…
Stardust… to remember you by…”
voice lingers even longer than the last note of the guitar. They stop swaying
and turning and Montparnasse is still staring. Suddenly their hazel eyes look straight
into his and they smile. Montparnasse can feel the starlight searing straight
through him. He smiles back. It’s an empty excuse for a smile, but at least he
means it. Because…he’s not going to let the star get away. But he’s not going
to let it break apart into stardust either.
In tribute of the “Summer of Saiyuki” with a brand new anime that
brought the Sanzo Ikkout back to the TV screen (and streaming), here’s the Summer Time collection of illustrations
featured in a “pop up” shop in Tokyo from mid June to mid July.
Saving the best for last and because he is THE
BOSS, here comes Sanzo wearing the black version of the Saiyuki T-shirt that could be purchased at the shop (note the
design has all of the guy’s weapons!) along with the clear file this is sourced from. Oh my….! You can definitely say
Sanzo’s got style! He wears his shirt fitted to his body and I won’t lie that they accentuate his muscular body -very-
nicely. He’s also wearing plenty of accessories to compliment his look: a handy black wrist watch, a black leather
braided bracelet and black sunglasses…Sanzo wears A LOT of black, doesn’t he? In fact, he’s the only one out of the four
wearing black denim!
Well, maybe he’ll finally stop loosing his credit card since he’s got a wallet with a chain…I
just love how he’s peeking from behind his sunglasses and has put his hair in a ponytail. I have no shame in my bias and
it’s the whole reason I even went after getting all of these! This completes the set of “Beach Time Saiyuki”. More importantly, Sanzo is HUSBANDO.
If re-posting please credit to “flowermiko” at Tumblr or Twitter. DO NOT UPLOAD TO ZEROCHAN. Thank you and enjoy!
”Trespassing on a crime scene? Now, son, I’m sure you had a reason for that but for the life of me I can’t think what it would be unless you were somehow related to the crime that took place there. Now you want to possibly offer an alternative explanation?” The police officer leaned on the table and stared at Sam.
i love the mix of gemstone and surprising leather or rosewood straps in these two bracelet styles from gossamerandviolet — the pink druzy and pale green aquamarine are accented beautifully by the neutrals.
Haha fun fact about me. I have zero experience with any sort of drugs so I can’t accurately write anything having to do with them but here we go.
Nolan never really had much interest in drugs, mostly because he knows how badly they can fuck up your life, but the person he likes rolls with the “Stoner Crowd” and it’s not like weed is all that bad.
He agrees to bring weed to a gathering involving his crush and their friends.
He tries to steal the weed from Danny but Danny catches him. (He teaches Nolan how to roll a joint before sending him off with SOME of his weed. Free of charge because he’s obviously a good dad)
He sits by his crush while they pass the joint around and the entire time they slowly get closer to each other.
After the party winds down Nolan’s crush tells him that they should keep hanging out. So they walk back to their house and lay on the roof and pass another joint back and forth.
They talk a lot. Nolan gets a lot of the shit he keeps buried off his chest because for once he feels like the person he’s telling isn’t going to judge him for it.
When his crush leans over and kisses him he freezes. They pull back and apologize because they think that Nolan doesn’t like them back, but Nolan pulls them back in.
He’s kissed people before but never while high, it makes everything feel a little more intense.
After that night they start dating. They don’t get high every time they hang out, but it happens from time to time.
When Nolan inevitably has to leave again his s/o gives him a braided leather bracelet that he never takes off. It’s a reminder that someone out there cared for him.
Teaser: ‘After leaving ??? with a mish-mash sentence of nonsense you started making your way home, walking down the busy streets. Your mind was cloudy and a feeling of guilt washed over you. ??? was undoubtedly having some sort of effect on you and you didn’t like it.’
Possible angst scenario where Alya and Chat fall in love and once he reveals himself as Adrien, there is panic from Alya ("I BROKE THE SIS CODE!!!") and possible angst from Marinette as well?? Like, she wants to be happy and supportive, but it's complicated????
ohhhhh there are SO MANY WAYS THIS COULD GO AND WE ARE DEFINITELY GONNA NEED A READ-MORE ON THEM
The floorboards beneath Dean’s heavy footsteps croaked as did Sam’s . They entered the average looking house, passing the scattered toys, hoping they werent too late in saving the people who lived there. Sam held Ruby’s knife tightly while he observed every room down the hallway. Dean went the opposite, he walked towards the kitchen and he heard a rustling of sorts.
Dean checked his gun to see if it was loaded. A couple of months ago, Cas gave them the not so invincible blade to melt down and turn into bullets. That gun has been able to kill any demon, angel, hellhound and basically anything they hunted. Dean saw Sam down the room from where he was and he motioned him over. Both brothers had their weapons ready about to charge into the room.
“1…2…3” Sam mouthed and they entered the room seeing 4 not so startled demons. The closest one attacked Sam and Dean shot the rest of them in the head. Sam pulled out his knife from the vessels abdomen, saddened by the death of the innocent teenager.
Every now and again Sam wished he didn’t have to use the knife, he wanted to save the victim not kill it. Though the only way he could fulfill that wish was by doing something he promised himself he would never do again, wishes like that don’t come true without a price.
“Think that’s it?” Dean asked while they entered the kitchen further more. Dean pulled out a cloth from his leather jacket handing it over to his baby brother so he could wipe the blood from his blade. Sam saw a woman’s foot stick out from another room attached to the kitchen. He walked towards the body seeing blood pooled around her and seeped into the carpet. Sam sighed and pushed his hair away in frustration, another one they couldn’t save. He didn’t see her face clearly since she was faced away from him but by the looks of the house she was a parent.
“Dean!” Sam called out getting his brothers attention, Dean walked in seeing the body and he sighed in disappointment. Dean’s gaze travelled to a picture on the coffee table by your body. His eyes squinted seeing a familiar face in that frame. He walked towards it and picked it up, examining the photo. He dropped the picture and ran to the body, facing her towards Dean.
“Oh god no…” Dean whispered as he recognised the woman’s face. He never forgot her face, ever since Dean walked out on her he never forgot his true love. When Sam came back from the pit Dean left in the middle of the night with not so much as a single letter.
“Dean… do you know her?” Tears pricked dean’s eyes while he stroked her cold face. He was about to reply until he heard a whimper coming from behind the couch. Dean pulled out his gun again and Sam pulled out his knife, waiting for a threat. They neared the furniture hearing the whimper become louder with every step.
“Please don’t hurt me!” Dean heard your innocent voice call out and his eyes widened with surprise. Dean rushed over to where you were curled up in a ball and his expression softened. He saw your golden brown hair cover most of your body. You were dressed in an AC/DC shirt with plaid pants and he didn’t want to believe that you were his kid, that your mother was dead and less than 5 meters away from you. Sam hit Dean’s shoulder, questioning what they should do since you didn’t notice their presence.
“Sweetheart, we’re not going to hurt you but I need to take you out of here, now” You lifted your tiny head showing your bloodshot apple green eyes which caught the brothers attention. Dean admired your face, he thought you were beautiful and suddenly he felt proud. He couldn’t help but feel you resembled him and his mum with a hint of Sam.
The tears were still streaming down your face but when you noticed their eyes weren’t black you extended your shaky arms. Dean gave Sam his gun and slowly pulled you towards him. You hugged his neck and buried yourself into it. Dean noticed how instantly you became comfortable with him and how it felt familiar.
Dean walked ahead of Sam and made sure you didn’t see your mangled mum on the floor. Sam saw a leather braided bracelet on your hand, it was about the same size of leather missing from Dean’s jacket. When the three of you exited the house Dean set you on the porch so he could talk to you.
“Can you tell us your name?” you wiped the tears from your eyes and looked up to the not so scary giants.
“Mary Winchester” You whispered. Sam slightly gasped and he looked at Dean with wide eyes who wore the same shocked expression. Dean felt numb from the neck down and his legs began to slightly wobble. He has a child, he knew you looked familiar… after all you were a mini Dean.
“Oh my fuc- SAM! mind your language” Dean warned his brother who would’ve snickered if this wasn’t a crucial situation.
“Honey, do you have any place to go? Any family friends?” Dean knew you didn’t have an aunty or uncle. Your mum was a single child and her parents died when she was young.
“No, but I think my dad might be alive? His name is uhmm… is erm… “ Your thoughts trailed off when you saw a beautiful car parked behind the two men. You squealed and ran towards it stroking the door oh so delicately.
“You have a fucking kid? When did that happen Dean?” Sam questioned as Dean observed your euphoric tiny form. You were definitely his kid.
“Bout 5 years ago when you took on the final boss? I found this girl, she was amazing Sammy. Funny, beautiful, smart and overall perfect. Oh and she was sexy as hell.” Dean smiled at the nostalgia but it was pained knowing your lifeless body was in the house behind them.
“What happened?” Sam questioned.
“I-uh I heard from Bobby that you were back so I had to get back into the game, Sammy. I should’ve taken her with me, Sam. Look at her, she looks like mum and you Sammy. Tell me you don’t see it.” Sam sighed and shoved his hands in his pocket.
“She has mum’s nose…” Sam whispered and he saw you run over to them.
“Is that your car? Thats mum’s favourite car, a nineteen sistysefen shefrole impala” Sam smiled at how you couldnt pronounce the name but you still tried. He picked you up and walked towards the car, setting you in the back seat. He noted to himself that they needed a child’s seat now.
Dean noticed Sam placing you in the car and he mentally thanked his brother for it. Sam already made the decision that you were coming with them and they were now your family. Dean sat in the front seat and Sam sat next to him.
“Is my mum gonna join us soon?” You asked, suddenly aware your mother wasn’t sitting next to you. Dean sighed unaware of how to tell you your mum’s not with you anymore.
“Uhm no kiddo she’s in a better place” Dean saw happiness drain from your face and you hid your face in your hands. He watched you desperately trying to hold it together and he didn’t know how you could do that. You were a child for godsake.
“Sweetie how old are you?” Sam asked trying to start a conversation.
“I’m f-five” Dean ignited the car and drove towards the bunker putting the house in his rearview mirror. You looked out the window not knowing where you were going but it didn’t matter, you felt as if your heart was ripped out of your chest and the last thing you cared about was your safety. Dean saw you twist your bracelet and his heart warmed at it.
“Where did you get that bracelet kiddo?” He asked already knowing the answer.
“It’s my dad’s. It’s real special. My dad’s a superhero and this gives me powers.” He smiled lovingly.
“Oh yeah? What sort of powers?” Sam asked.
“No matter how bad the situation, I’ll always be okay. Mum said that’s the Winchester motto”
“DAD COME ON YOU’RE BEING IRRATIONAL” You screamed following your steaming father into the library.
“MARY WINCHESTER YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS BUNKER!” You groaned and punched the wall next to you creating a slight dent, surprising your dad. The pain was bearable but your knuckles were slightly grazed. You had a slight anger management issue but it came with the genes.
“WHY? ITS FOR AN HOUR, LITERALLY! A GODDAMN HOUR! LET ME TAKE UNCLE CAS? I’LL TAKE SILVER, SALT AND IRON IF I HAVE TO” You tried to reason with him but it was literally pointless, once Dean Winchester made up his mind there was no changing it. He taught you about the supernatural world when you accidentally stumbled upon your grandfathers diary. You were 12 and he realised this way you can protect yourself as well.
“CAS HAS BETTER THINGS TO DO MARY! HE DOESNT HAVE TIME TO BABY SIT YOUR DAMN ASS” You flung your hands in the air and suddenly your vision became upside down. You realised your uncle Sam had flung you over his shoulder.
“What’s with the yelling and the brand new dent in the wall? Dean?” Sam warned his brother who simply shrugged.
“Don’t look at me, look at Muhammad Ali on your back” Sam looked down at you surprisingly while you sheepishly smiled. He walked over to the wall approving of your imprint. He gave you a high-five mumbling a well done.
“Uncle Saaammmmmmm convince dad to let me go to a party that’s literally down the road” You exaggerated by throwing your arms beside him.
“Dean let her go for like an hour… I’ll go with her, make sure to meet all her friends and their families.” You gulped realising how bad that sound. If it was any other normal person you’d be okay but this was your uncle, this was hunter/past lucifer Sam Winchester. Once your uncle tracked down a person who looked at you in a flirtatious way. Literally one glance and your uncle found him in three hours.
“Uhm in second thoughts i think we should have a movie night? How about ferris bueller’s day off?” Sam put you down and you scurried off to your room . What you didn’t know was Sam high fiving Dean.
“See it always works” Sam whispered to his thankful older brother who simply sighed.
“Yeah well not forever.”
“ShhhHhH lamp if father weare dead if findds out” You mumbled to the lamp you pushed over in your drunken state. You tiptoed cartoonishly in the dark towards the kitchen to get some water until the lights turned on. You slowly moved your head to where the light turned on and you saw your pissed off father.
“Mary Ellen Winchester, are you drunk?” Your dad folded his arm and you giggled at his messy hair.
“Daddy Dean WitchEster… I am not what you call drunk” You giggled and you saw him break out into a slight smile before returning to his authoritative behaviour.
“Mary, you aren’t 21 yet. You can’t be drinking alcohol outside the bunker without Sammy and I.” You ran up to your dad and jumped on him. Luckily he caught you and you hugged him tightly.
“in kangaroo land, alcohol can drink people when they’re 18!” Your dad sighed and he carried your 19 year old body to your room. He opened the door and set you down on your bed and you made rollercoaster noises. Dean kissed your forehead and before he pulled away you grabbed his hand stopping him from leaving.
“Dad I love you. I know I was a burden and you picked me up when I was young but thank you father. I love you more than anyone in the world and I am proud to be your lil one” Dean was speechless, you never said those three words to him. Ever. He kissed your forehead and tucked you in. You giggled when his fingers touched your side. He chuckled before heading towards the door.
“I love you too, princess” He closed the door and he wiped away a tear that threatened his eyes. Before he walked away he heard you speak.
“Mum… i miss you. I know you look after us…I wish you could see Dad in people form. I am too proud of him. Love you.” Dean looked at the mark and he hoped ,to whoever was watching him, that he’ll continue to make you proud.
You were running till your lungs began to burn, your head became light and your footsteps became heavy. The tears were still streaming down your face and your heart pained more than anything before. After running on the gravel the bunker came to view and you put all your speed and effort into getting their faster.You saw your uncle Cas’s car was parked next to the bunker and you were slightly relieved. You finally made it to the door and you pulled out your gun and phone, messaging Sam.
To: Uncle Moose
I’m going in now… I’m not gonna lie but I’m really scared.
From: Uncle Moose
Maybe you should wait for me? I don’t want him hurting you..
To: Uncle Moose
I’ll be safe x. Head home quick.
You shoved your phone back into your pocket. You slowly opened the door with your gun and you heard skin punching skin. You panicked observing your home and your eyes landed on your dad murdering his best friend.
“DAD STOP IT” You ran down the stairs and towards your father and Uncle. You saw the dead bodies around you but you paid no attention to them. You noticed your dad’s bloody fist, hitting your uncles broken face non-stop. You grabbed your dad’s back in an attempt to pull him off before he did something he regretted.
“DADDY PLEASE STOP” Dean looked at you with rage and he pushed you off, hurting you in the process. Cas was shocked at his aggression towards you but you didn’t care. You saw him pull out Cas’s knife and you panicked not knowing what to do.
“DEAN WINCHESTER. YOU PUT DOWN THAT FUCKING KNIFE BEFORE I PUT YOU DOWN” You screamed with your hoarse voice and the tears weren’t stopping. Your gun was now aimed at your dad and it was a sight you thought you’d never see.
“YOU THINK I’M NOT HURTING TOO? I LOVED CHARLIE WITH ALL MY DAMN HEART BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU TAKE IT OUT ON YOUR DAMN FAMILY! I DONT GIVE A SHIT WHAT THAT MARK IS DOING TO YOU BUT YOU HURT HIM ONE MORE TIME AND YOU’LL NEVER SEE ME EVER AGAIN.” You were now sobbing hysterically and your dad stayed frozen on a tired beat up Cas.
“Please daddy… don’t be the monster you taught me to kill… be the hero I always looked up to” Your dad dropped the knife and he looked at you with sorry eyes.You threw the gun away and you ran over to the two. You pushed him off Cas and held his head, hoping there wasn’t too much damage. Cas mumbled he was fine and shielded you from Dean unknowing what he’d do to his own daughter.
You sobbed into Cas’s bloody trench-coat while Dean looked ashamed. He felt ashamed. Knowing that his own daughter was afraid of him killed him on the inside, more than he always was.
“I’m so sorry baby… I’m so damn sorry.” You howled even louder not knowing why your body wasn’t reacting normally to his kind words. Dean got up and he walked towards you but you slightly flinched.
“I’m not going to hurt you princess. Please dont be afraid of me….. please” Your green eyes stared into his and you saw how broken up he was. Usually he’d hide it pretty well from you but today you saw his true colours. How far he would go. Cas let go of you and you ran into your father’s arm. He kissed your hair while you hung onto his shirt. Cas got up and walked away from the two of you until Dean said something.
“You and Sam stay away from me. Next time she won’t be around to save you” Cas disappeared with his broken state. You looked around you, seeing dead bodies upon dead bodies. Dean shielded your eyes but you pushed him away.
You walked up to the kerosine soaked books and pulled out a photo you had of the four of you. Cas had whipped cream on his face, Sam and Dean were laughing and you stood there with the can in your hand. You released a shaky breath and walked away from the library and into your room. You heard your father’s footsteps follow you but you couldn’t be near him right now.
“Dean don't… just go. Please.” You continued into your room and you thought Dean left but he sat outside your door. Today was the first day you called him by his first name and he hated it, it didn’t feel right.You walked into your room with pure rage and you turned it upside down. Your books were thrown on the floor and your chair was thrown onto the walls.
You screamed at the heavens, cursing them for everything they didn’t do. Dean heard a lamp crash and his heart ached when you yelled out in pain. He hit his head on the wall, wanting to block out your disappointment but it was seared into his brain. He officially made you afraid of him and he promised to never do that. To never become like his father. After a while Dean heard you calm down with a whimper.
“M-mum…. dad isn’t okay. Please don’t look at what he’s done or what he’s going to do. I promise he’s not a bad man” You stared at your ceiling, tired all of a sudden.You stared at your worn out bracelet and stroked it. You missed the late night banter and the random three town over hunts. You miss the good old days, the normal days. The days you loved.
That night you went to bed feeling scared. Scared for yourself and your family. Just like when you were 5 and it turns out nightmares can be recreated.
the second he sweeps into their lives, shouting for Scott and Stiles to run
while he faces down the inhuman creature barreling toward them (a werewolf, Stiles learns later, an alpha werewolf), Stiles knows he’s in
And then he keeps on showing up, warning Stiles off when he starts
sticking his nose too close to trouble (“it’s like you have a death wish, kid.
Just leave it alone” …As though that’s even an option now that Stiles knows
there are freaking werewolves out
there), and reluctantly dropping all kinds of incredible supernatural knowledge once Stiles makes it clear he’s not going to just let this go.
not like Stiles doesn’t know who tall, dark, and leather-clad is, either, and if anything that only fuels his interest. Derek
Hale, who had disappeared from town with his sister six years back, after most of his family
had died in a house fire. An accident, his dad’s final reports had declared, but Stiles
finds himself re-evaluating that idea pretty fast now.
what,” he says one night, while they stroll together along the edge of the
preserve. Well, Stiles likes to think of it as a stroll. Derek seems to think he’s just escorting Stiles back to his Jeep before he becomes alpha fodder,
but they can agree to disagree for now. “Were your family some kind of werewolf
hunters or something?”
grits his teeth, eyes skating away.
gets that, he doesn’t like people surprise-bringing up his mom, either. But this is kind of huge, and he can’t just let it go without trying.
just mean… you know a lot about this. I was wondering if it was some kind of Supernatural thing going on, you know?
Like, werewolves burnt your house down or something like that?”