leather over the shoulder bag

Competition | highschool!au

Originally posted by eunwoooo

Jennie x Reader (fem)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: ‘Jealousy does not become you, Jennie Kim.’

Requested by @jeonmyg

A/N: I apologise in advance because this is all over the place. :/ Hope you guys still enjoy it, though. 

Part I | Part II

Word Count: 6,052

Warnings: Nothing much, a couple of swear words.

“I like you.”

      You’re not actually quite sure what you had expected, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t this. Jennie looks as if she had just stared into Medusa’s eyes and subsequently, had been turned into stone. Her expression is still, too still, her eyes are wide and she is utterly silent.

     You fidget, your fingers intertwining and you bite your lip, a wave of anxiety rushing over you like a waterfall.

Keep reading


Anonymous said:How about the Reader works at the BAU, and she’s had a crush on Spencer for a long time, but keeps getting rejected- i.e. Spencer telling her not to call him Spence - and when Reader and JJ get kidnapped by an unsub, Spencer runs past her to get JJ instead. Reader rejects help from the other team mates despite her injuries, and goes on break? Maybe the the team stands up for her and comes to check on her? (Idek why this is so long, This is why I don’t write)

A/N: I’m not sure how you wanted this to end, so I made up an ending. :) I hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by jeichanhaka

I glanced across the carpeted aisle at Spencer Reid, sitting at his desk. His head was down, and strands of his wild curls fell into his face. He looked intently focused on whatever he was looking at. I found myself so enthralled with him that I was even desperate to know what was on that piece of paper. 

I took a deep breath and got up from my own desk, grabbing my coffee cup as I went. I stopped next to Reid’s desk and he glanced up at me. 

“Hey, Spence, what are you reading?” I asked. Something flickered behind his eyes and he brushed his hair away. 

“Please don’t call me that,” he said shortly, and then his gaze was determinedly set back on the paper, the content of which I still didn’t know. I sighed and went on to get my coffee. 

Spencer Reid had been rejecting me since I arrived at the BAU. After six months, he still barely spoke to me. As for me, I thought he was possibly the most interesting, wonderful human being I had ever met, and I was completely baffled as to why he seemed to hate me so much. As I poured myself some coffee, I glanced back over to Spencer, who was deftly ignoring my existence. 

Sighing again, I headed back to my desk.  

Bloody and beaten, I was more than relieved when I saw the red and blue flashing lights. I didn’t know if they had caught the unsub yet, and that thought hovered at the back of my mind. However, it was largely pushed aside by the intense flood of relief that they had found us. JJ and I had been taken by the unsub, and I didn’t know how long it had been but I did know it was longer than a day. I was certain that the team had been working tirelessly to find us, and as the large door to the building slid open and bright lights flooded in, hindered only by the silhouettes of our team members as they came inside. One of my eyes was swollen shut, but I had plenty of visibility; it was certainly enough to see Spencer as he rushed past me without a glance to get to JJ. 

Even as the ambulances arrived and we went to the hospital, and then were treated for injuries and released, Spencer never so much as glanced in my direction. The rest of the team took turns, all of them coming to check on each of us more than once. 

But not Spencer. When he wasn’t checking on JJ, he was standing out in the hall or somewhere else, as far from me as he could get. After the ordeal of my kidnapping, I found myself without the strength to try to deal with Spencer. It was exhausting, and with everything that was going on made the whole ordeal seem so overwhelming. 

During my leave of absence after my kidnapping, I spent most of my time sitting around doing nothing. I thought a lot about Spencer. 

I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done wrong, if anything, to make him feel so strongly against me. I had been trying, desperately, to get his attention and figure out what I was doing wrong so that I could fix it, whatever it was. 

I was sitting at my apartment one afternoon when there was a soft, rhythmic knock on the door. Still moving slowly, although doing better than I had been before, I headed toward the door. When I opened it, I froze. 

Spencer Reid stood on the other side, his leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. 

“Reid,” I said. 

“Spencer,” he amended quietly. Suddenly, it had become very apparent that this side of Spencer was not the same side I had been exposed to previously. 

“Come in,” I said after a moment, and Spencer stepped into my apartment. He looked around, his calculating eyes scanning my bookshelves. 

“You have a really nice collection over there,” he remarked, and I stared at him. 

“What the hell is going on?” I asked. 

He sighed. 

“(Y/N), I came here to tell you that I’m sorry for acting the way I have towards you,” he said. 

I sat down on my couch and looked up at him for a moment. 

“Sit down, Spencer,” I sighed. He did, perching awkwardly on the edge of my armchair. 

“What happened?” I asked. 

“JJ and Emily happened,” he admitted. “They sat down with me and they told me how much I was hurting you. I…” he trailed off, and sighed. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” he finished. 

“Really?” I asked. “Then why did you treat me that way, Reid?”

“Because,” he exclaimed. “Because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to act around you, I couldn’t think straight or hear myself when you would talk to me. You messed things up in my brain and I was scared.”

I stared at him. Following his outburst, I could feel myself already beginning to thaw. 

“Scared of what, Spencer?” I asked, my tone more gentle now. 

“Scared that what happened with Maeve would happen all over again if I let myself love someone else the way I loved her.” 

I felt my world slowly spin to a stop. 

I had heard about Maeve; the whole thing had undoubtedly had affected Spencer, but what he was saying to me now made everything fall into place. 

“Oh,” I said softly. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. I looked up to find his expression no longer guarded, but rather filled with emotion. 

“What?” I asked. He bit his lip and sighed slightly, his gaze moving up and down my body. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again. “The abduction,” he explained. “I’ve been worried about you,” he added softly, almost so softly that I didn’t hear him. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. “I’ll be back at work next week.” 

“I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I’m sorry that I did. I’ll see you at work next week.” He had already stood in a movement to leave, but I stood as well and stepped in front of him, looking up into his inquisitive face. 

“Spencer, do you have feelings for me?” I asked boldly. 

He hesitated, but then nodded slowly. 

“Yes,” he admitted. I leaned in and kissed him, warm and quick on his pale lips. He tasted of cinnamon. 

He stared at me, shocked. 

“How about you stop being mean to me?” I suggested. “And I’ll make some coffee for us both.” 

Spencer nodded slowly. 

“Okay,” he agreed, hesitantly taking his shoulder bag off and setting it down next to the chair he’d been sitting in. 

As he followed me into the kitchen, I shook my head. 

I guess it just goes to show, things aren’t always what they seem. 


the feysand modern au with more cliches than should be allowed

Feyre Archeron is pretty sure there are lines that shouldn’t be crossed when it comes to conduct with the authors whose books she edits. But when you take what should have been a normal flight to Paris and add a tuna sandwich, a red pen, and a smirking stranger, lines can get a little blurry. 


the one where feyre accidentally trash talks a novel to its author and then they kinda fall in love

read it on ao3

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Keep reading

Driven Motive: Part 2

Author: @lovefilledtragedy

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Female Reader/OFC

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cussing (you’ve all been warned before), pissed off Y/N, pissed off Mitch, intense fighting (of course)

Summary: After two weeks since agreeing to become a part of Orion, Y/N is finally brought to Stan Hurley to be more properly trained in his recruitment camp at the Barn and is introduced to the other ‘damaged good’, the one and only Mitch Rapp.

Author’s Notes: IT IS MITCH TIME EVERYONEEEEE. Ha, this is going to good. I am so happy that so many of you loved the first part of Driven Motive, I feel honored honestly. Time for this shit to officially kick off, hope you all enjoy. Thank you again to @were-cheetah-stiles, @redstringlovers, @rememberstilinski@ninja-stiles for proof-reading and editing and @mf-despair-queen for proof-reading, editing, and also coming up with one of the best ideas for this part, you all are wonderful. ALSO, definitely read Part 1 if you haven’t herewatch this, and of course this as well to get a better grasp for the scenes that I decide to add in on this part with my own twist on it. MOVIE SPOILERS AHEAD

Part 1 –> Part 2

Originally posted by im2old4thisotp

It had been two weeks since Y/N had last spoken to Irene and was told that she would be trained to become a part of an elite team called ‘Orion’. Today was the day that she was going to be meeting her superior, Stan Hurley, and potentially her new partner, Mitch Rapp. She made her way to the jet black SUV that she was instructed to meet by and searched for Irene, not seeing her anywhere in sight. The driver of the vehicle opened the back, right hand side door for Y/N and gestured for her to step in. “If you are looking for Ms. Kennedy, she has already left to take another recruit along with her. She will be meeting us there.”

She nodded to the driver, thanking him as she closed her door and he got back into his own seat, starting up the engine. She pulled her long black hoodie tighter to her chest as she shifted herself in the backseat of the SUV, tossing her luggage next to her.  Y/N looked out the window as she took in her surroundings as they drove out into the forest. Andrew would have loved it out here, she thought. She ran her fingers through her long Y/H/C hair and pulled it all over her right shoulder as she cleared her throat to keep herself from getting worked up once again over the fact that this training still continued to feel somewhat pointless to her. Mansur and his group were already wiped out, and Y/N continued to kick herself over the fact that some fuckhead had completed her set mission before she had the chance to jump into action. She knew that if she ever found the one responsible for taking that chance away from her, it was going to be ugly.

Just a short time before, Mitch had also found himself in an SUV on his way to the Barn under the watchful eyes of Irene. He had been held under supervision by the CIA for over a month due to his attempt to wipe out Mansur himself. He sat in silence for the majority of the ride before asking a question that had been on his mind, “So, what do I need to know about this guy?”

“He’s a warrior,” Irene answered, keeping her eyes out the front window, “the best I’ve ever known. He is going to be teaching more than you couldn’t teach yourself, you’ll also be partnered up with another recruit here as well frequently.”

“And why is that? I can handle myself, I don’t need someone slowing me down. ” Mitch stated.

“Both of your performances are off the charts, you each have been training yourselves for a long time. You need to understand Mitch that this other recruit can become a necessity for you; she’s tough.”


“She.” Irene smiled to him before turning herself back in her seat.

Mitch took his eyes off of Irene and continued to look out of the windows, curious now about this other recruit he would soon be meeting. He grew more and more curious over the matter as they continued down the road.

Y/N looked out the window off to her right as they approached their destination. A older man stood at the base of the stairs of the large building behind him and proceeded to take a drag off of his cigarette while he removed his dark shades away from his cold blue eyes. You perceived that he was Stan Hurley, the Cold War veteran who was going to be your superior.

Y/N noticed Irene exit the SUV in front of the one she was placed in as she stepped out to approach Stan and shook her head in annoyance. “I thought you said that you were going to stop smoking and started using those nicotine patches?”

Stan proceeded to take another drag off of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground, approaching Irene. “Guess I’m just a terrible listener, just like Rapp appears to be.”

Irene pursed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest, “I told you to drop the matter, Stan. He’s off the charts good, you and I both know that,” she stated, glancing to the SUV Y/N was in. “And now that we have someone else who can train as strongly as him and has been through the same tragedy, he may even become better.”

“Since when did you figure it was a good idea to bring two violent kids together to become a part of Orion? They could kill someone in here or even one another, Irene. Have you thought of that at all?”

“It is going to be your job to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she smiled, pleased with herself at Stan’s annoyance, “I will be in contact with you in 48 hours. I will be heading to London in the morning. Don’t fuck this up for us, Stan. Do you understand? They’re already both impressive.”

Stan nodded back to Irene as she headed back towards the first SUV, opening her door as she signaled for Y/N and Mitch to step out of the vehicles. Both Y/N and Mitch opened their doors simultaneously and heard one another’s boots hitting the ground, causing both of them to look at one another. Y/N was taken back by his appearance and assumed that he was the other recruit Irene had mentioned to her before that she would be partnered up with often. His dark brown hair was shaggy and went past his ears, causing the ends to curl up slightly. He appeared like he hadn’t slept well in a while, his honey brown eyes were glossed over and the dark circles under them were apparent, similar to hers. He wore a black t-shirt which was buried under a dark blue plaid flannel and a light grey jacket and scuffed up denim jeans. His blue travel bag hung from his hand. She noticed that his boots were similar to hers, the dark black leather had scuff marks on the fronts, possibly from tripping or hitting pavement as he walked in them. She found him intriguing, and she noticed that while she was staring at him, as she positioned her leather bag over her right shoulder and her suitcase in her right hand, he was staring right back. Both remained motionless until they were sent back to reality when the SUV’s engines hummed together and wheeled off out of sight. Y/N and Mitch both walked towards Stan and stopped in front of him together as Stan met them in between, his voice booming over them both, “Rapp, Y/L/N, eyes front and center.” Y/N’s assumption was right, he was going to be her new partner.

Stan glanced over at Mitch first and scoffed at him as he looked him up and down, “Let me guess, some bad shit happened to you and now you want to go and kill those mean old terrorists, am I right? What makes you think you can make it through my selection process?”

“My guess is if you and I go hand to hand, you can probably figure out inside of 20 seconds whether or not I have what it takes to make it through your selection process. So, what do you say?”

Stan continued to stare Mitch down before taking this attention towards Y/N, who was clearly annoyed by this other recruit already. Stan wasn’t taken back by her gender or size though she had seemed taller in the photos and videos Kennedy had sent him to fill him in on what he was expecting from Y/N. Y/N was only 5’4” and a half, making her not only the only woman in the group, but also one of the smallest. Stan could already tell that Y/N wasn’t going to let some jackass standing over 6’0” or more fuck with her. “And what makes you think you are cut out for this shit, hm?” Stan questioned. “All because your boy toy was killed, you think that you have what it takes to make it through my selection process as well, just like this one?” he questioned, pointing at Mitch’s face, his finger inches away from Mitch’s upturned nose.

Y/N tilted her head to look up at Stan, never flinching or taking her eyes off of him as he towered over her. “Yes sir, I believe I do. I want to do more than what I began to set out to do; I want to earn my place here,” she turned and glanced up at Mitch next to her and rolled her eyes slightly, “unlike him, who’s too smug for his own good.”

Mitch bit his bottom lip, straining to keep himself from lashing out or saying something that he would regret. Stan pursed his lips together to hold in a fake laugh, but shrugged it off and nodded to the both of them, “If you both truly think that you can handle all of this, you each have a room available up the stairs and to the right, you have the last door on the right hand side,” he stated, nodding to Y/N, “and you have the last door on the left hand side, directly across from her,” he stated to Mitch as Mitch glanced down at you, “You’ve both got 10 minutes to get your shit together and to meet us outside in the Circle; don’t be late.”

Y/N and Mitch both nodded and broke eye contact with Stan before saying “Yes, sir” in unison. She brushed past Mitch and entered the large building first, noticing the stairs that Stan had mentioned off to the left hand side. On the rest of the lower level, there appeared to be an entrance to the training location, an open kitchen and dining hall, and an assortment of classrooms. She approached the stairs and began her ascent, glancing around for anyone else in the building, but it was only her and Mitch, her footsteps echoed as she continued up without him.

On the second floor, there was a large restroom and shower room directly facing the stairs, and on both sides of the hall, there were various rooms. She turned to her right and proceeded to her assigned room, not wanting to fuck up and disregard Stan’s directions on the first day, and turned the knob, finding it unlocked and ready for her. She closed the door and set her luggage down on the floor by the bed. Opening her suitcase, she removed her large hoodie over her body and reached for her dark grey tank top. Pulling it over her head, she decided to glance out the window at the view she had access to. She noticed a small group of large and tall men proceed to make their way out into the forest area behind the Barn. She realized that they were heading out to the Circle, so she began to make her way down to follow them down, noticing that Mitch was behind her as well. Y/N placed herself by him as they approached the makeshift circle formed by the other men before Stan’s footsteps could be heard coming through the trail. Stan pushed his way past two other recruits, locking eyes with the majority of the group surrounding him and he proceeded to the center of the circle, “Let’s begin this shit show, shall we?”

Stan had gone over some of the basic tactics for the group to use while in combat with one another, and after explaining each, he decided it was time for some recruits to take what they had just learned and apply it. Stan scanned the group until his eyes landed on Mitch, and he approached him, handing him a knife as he took a step back from him, “Kill me.”

Mitch glanced at Stan, then the knife in his right hand, and then back at Stan. Without another second of thought, Mitch rushed forward, attempting to bring the knife into Stan’s left side as Stan brought his right fist up to Mitch’s jaw, hitting him hard enough to grab his arm and flip him over onto the ground hard. The knife that was once in Mitch’s grasp was now in Stan’s as he proceeded to press the tip of the blade against the middle of Mitch’s throat.

“People think you can slice a man’s throat like this; that’s only in the movies,” Stan stated sarcastically, pushing the blade a bit closer. “Right there.” He pretended then to push it in, causing some of the group to look at one another. “Do it. No noise, no mess.” As he slapped at the grip of the blade, Mitch glared up at Stan angrily and grunted as he flipped himself over to get back onto his feet. Stan tossed the knife onto the ground between Y/N and another recruit, “Victor, you’re up…you too, Y/N.”

Mitch stepped out of the center and went back to the spot he was previously, keeping his eyes pierced on Y/N and watched as Victor and her began to dance circles around one another, fists raised. “Let’s go!” Victor yelled, trying to get Y/N to come after him, but neither decided to take the initiative to start. Stan decided to take it into his own hands, swinging his leg up to knock Y/N over on her back. Y/N kicked her legs up to try and stop Victor from hitting her, only kicking his hands away from a split second before he punched her jaw. Stan came up to Victor’s side and right hooked his jaw, giving Y/N the advantage.

“You’ve got to have eyes in the back of your head,” Stan stated, touching his temples with his two pointer fingers as he proceeded to go around the two of them. Y/N swung her left leg up onto Victor’s neck, bringing him to the ground with all of the force she had and got a couple of punches in before hearing a gunshot ring out from the gun that Stan had, causing her to flinch and cover her ear. “You flinch, you die!” he shouted as Victor jumped onto Y/N’s back, locking his right arm around her small neck to roll her over. They both continued to roll around as they tried to gain dominance over one another, “Orion is about the mission, it ain’t about you.”

Y/N was able to get Victor trapped into a chokehold with her calves, his face turning red as he tapped out, whacking at her leg repeatedly until she decided to let him go even though she didn’t want to; she could’ve twisted her leg just right to snap his neck easily. “You go down out there, you’re a ghost; you don’t exist,” Stan declared, “There’s nobody, nobody, coming back for you.”

The rest of the day was filled with combat attacks, target practices, and runs, leaving Y/N more exhausted than she had been previously. She continued to think about how important it was for her to be there for Andrew and that she was going to fight to do this for him even with Mansur and this group gone. Though she was wiped out, she continued to beat the majority of the group there, but right there beside her was Mitch. Irene knew that when they both would be placed under Stan’s training for Orion that they both would be off the charts, and though they hadn’t been there an entire 24 hours, they outshined the competition indefinitely.

Instead of joining most of the group in the dining hall for dinner later that night, Y/N decided to go off upstairs to the shower after she waiting all day to do so. The mud and dirt shattered all over her face and arms and the various cuts that she had gained made her skin crawl. After returning to her room to grab herself a long black t-shirt, black leggings, her towel, and her first-aid kit to clean off her cuts and scars, Y/N stepped into the empty shower hall, proceeding to remove her newly stained clothing and placing the new articles of clothing and her kit she had grabbed on a shelf directly above the shower stall she entered. She rotated the faucet on to hot, letting the heat and steam roll off of her body as she rubbed her tender muscles. Losing track of time, Y/N didn’t even bother to care that someone else had entered the shower hall, hearing the man grunt as he removed his shirt. Y/N poked her head out from her stall curtain, looking to see Mitch.

Glancing up to look in the mirror, he saw Y/N’s eyes and jumped, “Oh fuck, sorry… I, uh, I guess I drowned out the noise of the water running and didn’t even realize that someone else was in here at all.”

Y/N laughed as she scoffed at Mitch, “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me, Rapp, it isn’t like you haven’t been in the same room with a woman before, let alone one that was naked. Relax a bit.”

Mitch kind of chuckled at her response and continued to rub his left shoulder, seizing at the pain. Stan fucked his shoulder up pretty good, and Mitch knew he would feel it for a few days or so.

“Pulled muscle?” Y/N asked, noticing Mitch’s face scrunch up as he gritted his teeth.

“Is it that obvious?” Mitch huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Hold on, just stay there for a second,” Y/N said as she ran her hair through the warm water one last time. She turned off the water, drying herself off quickly before she reached for her fresh clothes. Mitch watched her, his breath hitched when he saw the curvature of her breasts as she pulled her long black t-shirt over her shoulders, bending down to pull the soft fabric of her leggings over her toned legs. She grabbed her towel and threw it over her shoulder and reached for her first-aid kit. She pushed the curtain back and approached Mitch, searching through the kit, “Let me see if I have something for it in here.”

Y/N found her small travel container of Blue-Emu and popped open the cap, taking a small amount and running circles on Mitch’s shoulder, trying to let the cream absorb onto his skin. Mitch seized again, the pulled muscle aching under her touch.

“There, that should help somewhat,” Y/N said as she closed the container and placed it back in her kit, locking the laches before grabbing the rest of her things and exiting the shower hall to get some rest.

Mitch smiled a bit at her before clearing his throat, “So, you got a first name at all, Y/L/N?”

Y/N kept her back to him, just turning her head slightly for him to see the side of her face as she answered, “Y/N, and yours, Rapp?”


“Well Mitch, looks like we’ve got another long day ahead of us tomorrow. Plan to meet me at 0700 hours down in the training room and please don’t be late, I can happily start without you if that is what you prefer though. Have a good night,” she smiled and walked out, turning towards her room.

“You too, Y/N,” he said to himself, knowing she couldn’t possibly hear him by any means. His small lopsided grin stayed on his face as he turned to exit the shower hall down to his room, glancing at her door before unlocking his and closing it quietly. Mitch knew he would be in for a restless night due to the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, but little did he know that she was thinking of him as well.

Both of them sighed as they laid back on their beds, the feeling of guilt washing over them both as they thought about their previous lovers. Was it wrong to think about someone that they had just met so soon? Wrong or right, neither of them got much rest, the thought embedded in their minds as the overwhelming insomnia they both knew so well consumed them.

Early that next morning, Y/N had already been up and moving before the majority of the group was even awake. She had spent the majority of the night raging against the thought of Mitch on her mind. She kept telling herself that she needed to focus on the task at hand and on her training for Orion, but she couldn’t seem to drop the matter. She became angry, the tears that began to build up in her eyes managed to fall down her cheeks, staining her face as she tossed and turned, praying that sleep would take over, but it never did. Her Y/E/C eyes burned as she stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling above her as she waited for the alarm on her phone to go off.

Tying her long hair up into a messy bun, she readjusted her tight black leggings, her dark burgundy tank top, and her black and white Nike’s before descending down the stairs to the training room. She approached one of the long blue mats in the corner of the room as she sat down, pulling her legs in front of her as she began to stretch. She pulled her arms out in front of her, reaching her toes when she heard footsteps approaching her.

“You’re right on time, I’m impressed.”

“I’m not that much of a fuck up, you know.” Mitch stated, placing himself on the mat beside her. He was wearing a black tank top, dark blue jeans, and his dark black combat boots. His toned chest was tight in his shirt, making Y/N slightly blush as she checked him out.

Y/N laughed as she pulled herself to her feet, balancing herself as she swung her right leg up to kick Mitch’s jaw. Before she could make contact, Mitch grabbed for her leg, causing Y/N to wince as he twisted her leg behind her.

“That’s the best you could do? That was the fucking dumbest move I have witnessed in a long time.” Mitch scoffed, tossing Y/N to the ground as he stood above her.

“Really? Because I actually thought that yours was.” Y/N stated, tossing her legs up as she slammed them into Mitch’s chest. He tumbled over trying to catch his breath. Y/N threw herself on top of him, swinging her fist into his jaw, his head impacting the mat as she did. Before she could get another hit in, Mitch grabbed her fist, throwing her arm back, all of his strength tossing her small frame away from him.

Y/N felt herself heat up with anger as she lunged towards him, wrapping her arm around his neck, locking him in a chokehold. Instead of letting her get the satisfaction of being able to take him down, his large hands gripped her wrist, pushing his fingertips on the her bone, causing Y/N to yell out in pain, bringing her elbow into his pulled shoulder.

He grunted loudly, managing to get himself out of Y/N’s grip as he grabbed her small frame, lifting her into the air as he body slammed her onto the mat. He watched as she laid there, a smirk planted on her face, “That’s all you got? You’re such a little bitch, Rapp. Do something!”

He felt his skin boil as he reached for her neck, the veins popping out from his hands and his arms as he watched her struggle. She grabbed his hands as her eyes became fuzzy, staring into his. He felt himself shake as his eyes met hers, realizing in that moment he had taken it too far. Her eyes were beginning to look lifeless, almost exactly how Katrina’s looked before she was shot once again right in front of him. He felt the hot tears burn in his eyes as he let go, Y/N coughing as she slowly pulling herself up from her place on the mat, his handprints apparent on her neck.

“I’m-I…” Mitch shuttered, the shakiness prominent in his voice. His breathing was rattled, coming in loud intense huffs from his nose.

“Sorry?” Y/N huffed, closing her eyes as she rubbed where his hands had been, straining as she tried to continue to speak, “Don’t waste yo-your breath, Mitch. T-trust me, it is not wor-worth my time. You should have just kept going…” She glared at him, her Y/E/C eyes became dark.

Mitch clenched his fists together as he tried to take a step towards her. He stopped dead in his tracks as a familiar voice echoed through the room.

“That’s enough, both of you,” Stan said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I do not need the two of you dipshits in here trying to kill one another. Get the fuck up and get ready for target practice; that’s an order.” he barked.

Mitch continued to keep his fists clenched to one another, his nails digging into his palms. He watched as Y/N stood up, pulling her bun tighter on top of her as she brushed her shoulder past Mitch. Y/N nodded towards Stan as she walked out, turning back slightly to give Mitch an unforgiving glare as she continued out the door.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he approached where Stan was. “Next time Rapp, try not to end her life, will ya? I know that Irene wants you both to work closely with one another, so I don’t need to clean up after your fucking mess, you got that? Grab your shit and get the fuck outta my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tags: (accounts I love) @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone, @mieczzyslaw, @lovelydob, @obriens, @dylan-trash-tbh, @maddie110201, @ellie-bee242, @fillthevoid-stilinski@susybird, @honeymoonmuke, @x-mitch-rapp-x, @mrs-mitch-rapp93, @golddaggers, @minhosmeanhoe, @dylrider, @dumbass-stilinski, @obrosey-af, @stilinski-lover-24, @stilinski-jpeg, @cat-obrien, @thelittlestkitsune@wittystiles@stilinski-stydia-obrien

Caffeine Challenge #12-- done!

You can read mine below or here (X)! This one is yet another WIP lol. Good job everyone who participated, I can’t wait to read yours!

I’m on a bus before I know it, my sister’s voice still ringing in my ears.

“Mom’s dead. They’re calling in a new Sheriff.”

It’s been years since I’ve been home, but I know what that means. There’ll be blood in our county before the month’s up and, with Sis pregnant with her second, that’s something Abbey’s can’t afford.

So I break the promise I made when I was sixteen and I come home. Mom’s not around to care though, so it’s hardly like there was much of a promise to break anyway.

Judging by Orisa’s face, she doesn’t agree.

“I told you not to come,” she says when I jump off the bus. She’s got a toddler by the hand and her belly is swollen with another child. For all that, she’s still got a whole belt of stakes slung over her shoulder.

“You’re expecting trouble,” I say, chin jerking to the wood. “I had to.” I drop my bag at my feet and squat down with a friendly smile. “Ara? Is that you? But, it can’t be, you’re so big!”

The little girl, hair the color of sunlight, ducks behind her mother’s legs, amber eyes distrustful.

“I saw you when you were a baby,” I say to the little girl. She’s got her mama’s freckles, only a shade darker than her brown skin. She’s beautiful. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”

“The locals certainly remember you,” Orisa tells me. “What are you thinking, Mable, coming back now?”

I exhale through my nose and stand. “I’m thinking that we’re in Sheriff-less territory and you’re the late lady’s daughter, Orisa. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“They like me here,” Orisa says, white teeth flashing. “You coming back is only going to stoke the fires, Mable. You know that.”

I keep my smile pleasant, aware of Ara’s eyes on me. “The fires are already stoked, Orisa. You should know that.”

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Lottie Tomlinson makes a rare appearance at London Fashion Week
Lottie Tomlinson - little sister to One Direction star Louis - was sure to make a splash at London Fashion Week over the weekend.

She’s kept a relatively low profile since she lost her mother at Christmas.

But Lottie Tomlinson - little sister to One Direction star Louis - was sure to make a splash at London Fashion Week over the weekend.

On Saturday she appeared at Nickelodeon’s SpongeBob Gold 18th Anniversary in collaboration with the LFW Design collective.

The pop star sibling wore a baggy cornflower blue sweater over a short silver skirt, white sports socks and black running shoes.

She piled her grey-tinted locks in one slanted bun on top of her head and decorated her eyes with a dark coat of eye-liner.

After posing with a life-sized SpongeBob, she was joined by 1D’s stylist, Lou Teasdale, who wore her similarly-shaded hair loose.

Her outfit considered of a distressed denim, with deliberate tears in it here and then, a black top, bronze pendant necklace and bright orange trousers - all finished off with white tennis shoes.

Beauty blogger Lottie had spent Friday at the slightly more glam Charlotte Simone presentation at The Vinyl Factory with Gemma Styles - the sister of Louis’ bandmate Harry.

The pair seemed to have compared notes as they each sported colourful fur scarves.

Lottie kept things silvery in a slinky light grey sweater, one shoulder showing, and shiny metallic vinyl cropped trousers.

She kept her footwear very casual with black trainers and she wore her silver/blonde tresses bunched up in two pigtails.

She decorated the look with various gold accessories, including bangle earrings and a name necklace.

Her famous brother’s bandmater’s sister kept it all black other than the blue, white and black fur scarf she wore, which co-ordinated with Lottie’s white, pink, teal and indigo wrap.

Lottie was last seen when she and her brother were spotted rallying around one another in the lead up to Christmas.

Despite having to face their first festive season without their beloved mother since her passing, Louis  also had to go through his first birthday without her too.

Born on Christmas Eve 1991, Louis turned 25 the day before Christmas and his little sister was sure to make sure she used the occasion to honour her brother in light of their recent family tragedy.

In an Instagram snap uploaded by 18-year-old Lottie, the siblings are seen huddled together and smiling, seemingly on a night out.

She captioned the photo: ‘My brother and best friend forever … Happy birthday!’

Georgia May Foote was in attendance, keeping things all black and extremely sleek-looking, sporting long flowing trousers tired at the front, with a cropped, low-cut top.

Her straight dark locks fell around her shoulders, which were covered in a black leather jacket. She also wore a black choker around her neck.

She wore a styling black hat, dark pumps and splashed crimson lipstick on her pout.

Mariah Idriss - who is the first model to wear a hijab in an H&M campaign - was in attendance.

The 23-year-old, who is of Pakistani and Moroccan heritage, posed in an eye-catching leisurewear ensemble in black, grey and orange check.

She completed the look with colourful dangling earrings, a turban and bkack boots, as well as some rustic bangles on her wrist and a leather bag over her shoulder.

anonymous asked:

Helllllllloooo I have a prompt for the captive prince series, and I thought this would be cute. How about an AU where Damen runs a bakery and every morning at 5am, when he opens and preps for the shop, he comes across Laurent passing by to go into the convenience store a few blocks down. One day he was the courage to stop him. Hopefully curiosity doesn't kill the cat.

It’s the first chilly Monday after Anzac Day when the most attractive person that Damen has ever seen crosses his path at 4:55am on the dot. Damen actually walks past the door to his own bakery, has to retrace his steps, and takes three tries to fit the key in the lock, he’s so distracted by the memory of the flawless face and the shock of neat blond hair.

The next day, the man is there again. Damen manages to open the door on the second try, this time.

It becomes routine. Like clockwork. Damen walking one way down the street to open the bakery and turn on the ovens; the man walking the other way, a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder, never making more than peremptory eye contact. The street traffic is thin, at that hour, and foot traffic even thinner. There’s not much in the way of natural dawn light, as the days get shorter, though the street is well-lit, orange streetlights spilling down an artificial glow.

Damen develops a furious curiosity about who the man is. He looks young; younger than Damen, early twenties at the very most. Is he a suicidally dedicated finance intern, on his way into the CBD? A shift worker? An early-morning gym goer?  (“A vampire?” says Nikandros sarcastically, not looking up from the plait of yellow brioche taking shape under his hands.)

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The Game

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader X Namjoon

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Threesome, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Dom!BTS, Orgasm Control, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Anal

Summary: You and Namjoon is a complicated concept. You’re not dating each other, but you are under Namjoon’s possession. There’s never been talk on if you can see other people, however, when Namjoon catches you playing a game with Taehyung, he cannot let you go unpunished…


When you had moved in with Namjoon and his 6 friends, you hadn’t been quite prepared for the… attention. Yes, it was great always having somebody around to kill a bug, or to fix the TV when it broke, or to play Overwatch with, but it wasn’t great being an object of every single one of their desires. Whenever one of them was horny, it was projected onto you. And while you loved them all, it was very hard having to reject them all all of the time.

It got worse when Yoongi decided he wanted to share a room with Jimin. Jin decided he wanted to make the spare bedroom into an extra workspace, which meant that someone would have to bunk with you. Well, all out war was declared. Until they realised that Namjoon was the only one actually getting something out of you. So it was decided that Namjoon would share a room with you - no - he was going to share a bed with you. Because you’d already had sex plenty of times, neither of you minded sharing a bed. Well, sharing wasn’t exactly what it was. Namjoon would go out and not return for hours on end, leaving you along until two or three in the morning. You’d never felt more alone in such a full house. Jin had Hoseok sharing a room, Yoongi was with Jimin and Taehyung had Jungkook. You… you were alone.

You were awoken suddenly by a noise. You cursed under your breath. You had been dreaming peacefully about a shopping day with Yoongi when the noise of your door opening startled you awake. Cautiously, you turned your head to the door, seeing somebody poking their head in.

“Taehyung?” You hissed.

“Sorry..” he bowed and moved into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“What do you want? What time is it?” You yawned, propping yourself up with your elbow. A breeze from your window cause you to shiver slightly, “fuck it’s freezing.” Then you noticed Taehyung was just in shorts and a t-shirt. How the fuck?

“It’s like 1:30am. I wanted something…”

“Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“Not really…”

“Well What is it?” You hissed.

“Well… I know that… you and Namjoon Hyung… you do things…”


“And I wanted-“

“Tae. I’m not fucking you.”

“No… I want… I want you to touch yourself for me.” Well this was new.

“You want me to what?” You could see he was fiddling with his fingers.

“Touch yourself for me… I need to get off and… I don’t want Jungkookie to wake up and see me…”

“Why didn’t you just go to the bathroom?”


“You know what Namjoon will do if he catches us.”

“Well then you better hurry up then.”

“For fucks sake Kim Taehyung… come and sit on the bed then.”

As he made his way slowly over to your bed, you pulled yourself out of the warm blankets and into the cold air. You were wearing an oversized onesie, but even that wasn’t enough to keep you from the biting cold. Not that it mattered anymore, you were about to get naket for Taehyung anyway. Tae clambered onto your bed and sat between your open legs, slowly pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his cock spring free. Even in the dark, you could see he was fully erect, hard and wanting some sort of pleasure. There was a stir in your stomach and a heat rushed between your legs.

You slowly moved your hands up your body, keeping your eyes trained on Taehyung’s figure as your fingers loitered at the zip of your onesie. Then, you slowly began to unzip. Your hot chest and stomach were soon exposed and you let the material fall down your arms, exposing even more of you. Taehyung couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips as he moved a finger over the slit on the top of his tip. You moved your hips, allowing yourself to pull the onsie fully off of you. Taehyung watched you and you eyed him.

“Yah… I don’t think it’s fair that I’m naked and you’re not… “ you trailed off.

“Baby, you have to earn it…”



“Then do you care to make this more interesting?” You raised an eyebrow as you moved your fingers to the waistband on your panties.

“How so?”

“Let’s play a game… The first person to cum,” you paused to slip your panties down your legs, “loses and,” you kicked them off, “has to do whatever the winner wants.”

“Sex included?”

“Hm…” You pondered. Sex with Taehyung would be quite the adventure, “sex included.”

“Be prepared to succumb to daddy.”

“I don’t think so.”

Taehyung quickly pulled his t-shirt off of his body, and threw it onto your bedroom floor. With his toned torso now on display, you were ready. You moved backwards, lying down and spreading your legs wide open so Taehyung would get a good view. He shuffled to sit between your legs and began pumping his dick. You let your fingers trail up and down your inner thighs before stopping at your clit. You began with small, slow circles, letting the beginning drops of pleasure begin to form in the pit of your stomach. You had no intention of losing to Taehyung tonight.

He watched you as you drew circles over your sex, pumping his dick. The quiet moans that were falling from your mouth were spurring him on, adding to the intense feeling that was building within him. He was hard. So hard and he wanted to come so badly. But he couldn’t lose. Especially not to you. He wanted to dominate you. He wanted you to be his slave. He wanted to be in control. Even more than he wanted to cum.

You began to gently grind your hips up against your fingers, causing some friction to begin against your delicate skin. You didn’t care that Taehyung was watching. In fact, because he was watching, you were even more turned on. The moans that were rolling off your tongue were beginning to get louder, and yet, nothing was coming from Taehyung, who was beginning to pump faster.

“Yah… Taehyung…” You panted, “be a little louder for me…” You watched him as he licked his lips.

“You have to earn my moans, baby girl.”

“Taehyung.. ah~!” You hit a spot on your clit, causing your hips to jolt up for a second.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You and Taehyung stopped, both of your heads snapping to the door where Namjoon stood. He was still in his leather jacket, bag slung over his shoulder, an angry look on his face. His eyes wandered from your body, fingers on your sex, and then to Taehyung, half naked, jerking himself off to you. Namjoon was not happy.

“We’re playing a game.” Taehyung announced, “Care to join?”

“What kind of game?” Namjoon let his bag fall to the ground, and then his leather jacket after it. Taehyung looked over at you for permission and you nodded.

“The first person to cum loses… and then they have to do whatever the winner wants. Sex included.”

“Well, [First]…” Namjoon moved closer, “looks like your punishment will be getting fucked by two of us.”

“Punishment? For what?” You raised an eyebrow.

“For showing someone else what’s mine.”

Now he was standing at the edge of the bed, lustful eyes gazing down at you. His fingers moved to his jeans and popped the button open, then he pulled the zipper down. He pulled his jeans down a little so that he could pull the waistband of his underwear down and let his penis spring free. He was already semi hard. You didn’t know if it was from him looking at you and Taehyung exposed or if he was already horny before he walked in. What you did know was that he was horny now and he was going to do whatever it took to relieve himself. He gave himself a few, long, slow pumps before looking at Taehyung.

“Care to help me punish our baby girl?” Namjoon asked.

“Only if we win.” Taehyung grinned.

“We will. Now that I’m here, we will.”

Namjoon began to pump himself again, and then so did Taehyung. The sight of the two of them pleasuring themselves in front of you was too much and you didn’t realise you had began to circle your clit again until you were bucking up against your hand. Your free hand came up to your mouth, and you sucked your index and middle finger, lubing them up with your saliva. Then, your hand made its way to your entrance, pushing in and filling you up. You groaned, arching your back at the sensation. Taehyung and Namjoon watched you, both beginning to picktheir paces up as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

Both Taehyung and Namjoon knew that they would be able to hold out longer than you. A slight sheen of sweat had already formed on your chest, which was rising and falling rapidly as you pleasured yourself. Your cheeks were stained pink, lips parted as gasps and moans left them. Your fingers were speeding up. You had completey forgotten about the game, and you were chasing your high. Namjoon raised an eyebrow, slowly beginning to stop rubbing his dick as you became needier and needier for your orgasm. Taehyung was stunned, completely stopped as he watched you reach your orgasm. When it hit you, you cried out, riding it out as you harshly rubbed your clit and thrust your fingers into yourself. When it was all over, you pulled your fingers out and gasped for breath.. Your eyes blew wide open. You had lost the game.

“Tsk. What a bad girl you are. Taehyungie… looks like we need to punish her.”

“Nam-“ you began.

“Daddy.” Namjoon corrected, “and Taehyung is Sir. Keep her occupied, Taehyungie while I get ready to punish her.”

Taehyung crawled over to you, hovering over your naked body before slamming his lips onto your own. His hand immediately moved to your chest, rubbing your breasts together and squeezing your nipples. You groaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. It was a battle not worth fighting as his tongue won dominance almost immediately. So while he was busy exploring your mouth, your hands moved to the waistband of his shorts and boxers and you pulled them down together in one swift movement. Meanwhile, Namjoon was busy stripping himself of all his clothes, hardening as he watched Taehyung begin to completely dominate you. As he pulled down his jeans, he moved one hand to his dick and began to slowly pump it, relieving some of the pressure that was building up. When Namjoon was finally undressed, he pulled Taehyung off of you and swapped Taehyung’sl ips for his. You began making out with Namjoon, who was standing, but leaning down to kiss you. Taehyung began kissing down your body, slowly making his way to eat you out. Namjoon moved when Taehyung’s head was completely between your legs so that he was straddling you. His lips began to hungrily attack your neck and he began leaving deep red marks against your hot skin. Taehyung was teasing you to no end, biting and licking on the skin on your inner thighs, closest to your core. You could barely stand the torture the two of them were putting you through. Then, finally, Taehyung’s lips connected with your clit and you cried out, Namjoon’s hand quickly coming down over your mouth.

“Wouldn’t want one of the others to walk in would you?” He asked and you slowly shook your head. With your reply, he moved his hand and began working on your neck again. Taehyung was working his mouth on your heat, eating you out so well that you thought you were going to cry with the pleasure. He was so good. Namjoon could tell you were about to cum. The signs were obvious. But you weren’t getting release that easily. When you were gasping for breath, chocking on the pleasure, Namjoon ripped Taehyung’s head away from you. You whimpered, feeling Namjoon’s weight lift off of you only for it to return and see Taehyung now straddling you. They had swapped places. Taehyung immediately caught you in a heated kiss and at the same time, Namjoon delved in for his midnight snack. Namjoon’s plump lips felt so good against you, and Taehyung’s tongue working against yours was only adding to the heat you were feeling. Sweat was glistening over your whole body. You had to grip the sheets, the pleasure from both males becoming overwhelming. Your high was nearing so quickly again, but just at the last second, just as you were being pushed over the edge, Namjoon pulled away, leaving you a whimpering mess yet again. You watched as he whispered something to Taehyung’s ear and both of them smirked devilishly.

Namjoon moved around and held you up, so that you were lying on him, back flush against his chest. His lips worked on your shoulder as Taehyung hovered over you. You knew exactly what this meant.

“You’re going to be a good girl and take both of our dicks, okay?” Namjoon whispered, “and you better be quiet. If another member walks in, you’ll be taking his cock as well as mine and Taehyung’s.”

His hands roamed over your body and then moved onto his own, where he grabbed his dick and readied himself. Taehyung followed suit, sending a quick kiss to your collar bone. Then, Namjoon thrusted up, making sure his dick went inside of your ass, filling you up. It was painful, yes, but the pleasure drowned the pain away. Taehyung was next, plunging into like he’d been waiting to for so long. You were filled up in both ends, merely a toy for these two men to fuck you and relive their pleasure. Then, it began. It was like torture, the way they weren’t in sync at all. Namjoon’s dick stretched your ass out, filled you up completely, you took him in so well as he thrusted up into you over and over, hands gripping your waist, teeth sinking into the skin on your shoulder. Taehyung was also stretching you to your limit, pushing against every inch of your walls. You could feel every twitch, every time they pushed against the one wall inside of you that separated them. It was too much. You were gasping for breath, moaning out a string of cussed along with “Daddy” and “Sir” praying to god that they’d finally let you cum. The second Taehyung’s fingers cane into contact with your clit, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. The pleasure became so intense. You could barely breath, you could barely think. All you knew was that these two men were absolutely ruining you, filling you with sin - their sin. You were too far gone as Taehyung began biting down on already raw hickies. You saw stars, orgasm washing over you. It was so intense. You squeezed around Taehyung, bringing him to his high along with you. He shot his hot, sticky cum inside of you, filling every ounce of your cavern with white. Your hips bucked up against his, then ground down into Namjoon as you rode out your orgasm. Namjoon picked up his pace, ploughing up into you, grunting. Your orgasm was causing you to clench around him as well, and soon, he was cumming into you, filling your other hole up with his cum. You were full of them both and driven crazy by the high they had deprived you of for so long.

You were gasping, praying that finally, you could go back to sleep. They pulled out of you almost simultaneously and everything came flowing out onto Namjoon’s lower torso. Your head was lolled back into the dip where his shoulder met the pillow. Taehyung rolled over, coming to lie next to Namjoon. Namjoon slowly rolled you onto your own area on the mattes and allowed Taehyung to wrap his arms around you while he wiped the mixture of all three of your juices off of his body. Hot, sweaty, fucked out, all three of you tangled up under the sheets.

“We should play this game again.” Taehyung panted, moving a strand of sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Definitely.” You agreed.

In Terms of Fire & Ice {4}

A/N: After a vv long time, part 4 is up! I’m sorry for the late update, but I’ve been busy with school and there were a couple of other fics I’ve been working on. @smols-n-tols are always the best group of people, and they’re just really supportive of most, if not all, of my fic ideas~~~ Please enjoy!

Pairing: Wanna One’s Seongwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst, fuckboi!seongwoo, rich!seongwoo, enemies to lovers!au

Word Count: Roughly 1k

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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In the Arms of Justice Pt. 2 (Bucky Drabble Series)

Hello, my lovelies!! I’m so happy that part 1 was so well received!! I guess we all could use some Officer Bucky in our lives. ;) My goal is to post a new part every other day, so the next part will be up on Sunday Oct. 16th! Thank you all SO much for the love and comments and reblogs and tag requests. I LOVE YOU ALL!! 

Original inspiration came from THIS POST thanks to the lovely @buckysberrie


In the Arms of Justice Pt. 2

Characters: reader x Officer Barnes (eventually)

Summary: Reader is a witness to a crime, tying her to the investigation as well as the police involved. She never would have guessed how that one night would continue to change her life years later.

Warnings: blood, murder and death mentions (none of it graphic), gritty police drama tv show kind of feel.

Word Count: 1065

Tags at the bottom

<<<Part 1   Part 2   Part 3>>>    __________________________________

4 Years Ago

Having never ridden in a police car, this was a interesting experience for you. And yet another way to distract yourself from your current nightmarish reality. Officer Barnes insisted you ride in the passenger seat rather than in the back behind bulletproof glass. You considered the possible number of drunk-tank-bound occupants and occasionally bleeding criminals seated back there over the months and years with a cringe, now especially grateful for your front row seat to the precinct.

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Post-episode 4.

Clarice finds out about what Dreamer did to her and shit goes down.

(My take on what will happen in episode 5).


A ghost of a touch. A brush of a calloused hand. A deep whisper of her name.

Clarice’s eyes fly open and she shoots up from her bed at an ungodly hour. Breathing hard, she tries to console herself—bewildered and, slightly more embarrassed than she would care to admit about her…ordeal—she gulps.

Is something wrong with her?

A chilling shudder runs up her spine as she tries to shake those thoughts out of her head. This wasn’t like her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she can appreciate the concept of shallow skin deep purely physical attractiveness—she won’t deny that. But, this…this was different. It felt real.

It just made no sense.

Memories ran awry in her thoughts she doesn’t remember making. Dreams that never crossed her mind before were all that occupied her head now.

She couldn’t even trust herself.

Clarice let out a frustrated groan and flopped back on the bed. It creaked under her weight.

Closing her bright emerald eyes, she thought back to the way Sonia had been acting around her, almost as if she was avoiding her. The redhead would stare at her when she thought Clarice wasn’t looking, except she was.  She wasn’t aware of what was going on, but something was definitely up.

Rubbing her eyes, she rolled over to her side, deciding she’ll talk to Sonia tomorrow morning—ask her what her deal is. But for now, she needs to sleep without having inappropriate dreams.


A yawn escapes Clarice’s lips as she waits for the new espresso machine to finish brewing her coffee. She’s willing to down a whole pot if that’s what it takes to keep her awake for the day. Clarice isn’t much of a morning person. And even mutants need their fair share of sleep to function. But thanks to these little almost-sex dreams she’s been having, she can barely keep her eyes from drooping.

How inconvenient.

She slumps against the counter of the makeshift kitchen and takes a sip of her drink. Signing in content as the caffeine finally enters her system and wakes her up, she gathers herself to join the rest of the mutant society (and the Struckers). Clarice is about to head out to search for Sonia, when just on cue, she hears her and John treading right in front of the entrance of the kitchen, arguing about something in hushed voices.

She beams, but just as she’s about to walk out, something John says stops her in her tracks.

“You have to tell her what you did,” she can hear a tremor of underlying anger in his tone.

Her smile drops.

Who the hell are they talking about?

Clarice isn’t sure what it is, but something deep in her gut—maybe instinct—tells her to stay put and keep listening in.

“Why?” Sonia exclaims in response. “Johnny, everything is going smoothly. Her powers are working again and she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

There’s a crack between the door and the wall where the hinges are attached. Clarice peaks through to get a better visual of the scene. From the sliver of space, she can see John facing Sonia, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as if they were having a heated exchange.

“This isn’t right and you know it,” there’s tension in his shoulders like he’s been carrying the world for far too long. “What you did, the way you did it—you went into her head without her permission—it’s wrong.” He’s rubbing his forehead now, stress written in its creases.

“Do you have any idea how valuable she can be to us? We’re all fugitives, Johnny! When Sentinal Services finds this place, and it’s only a matter of time—she can help us escape. Her powers are important! We need them.”

“We need her,” John corrected. “Her powers are a part of her, but she’s more than just her powers,” he sighs, exasperated. “You’re right though, we do need her.” Sonia gives him a small smile, placing a reassuring hand over his forearm.  

He places his own on top of hers, dwarfing it on the process.

Clarice purses her lips. There’s a lump that formed in her throat that won’t go down. She can’t tear her eyes from how Sonia’s thumb slowly traces circles on John’s skin, no matter how hard she tries.

After a beat, he gently removes Sonia’s hand from his arm and allows it to drop—hanging there, as she glances up at him, dumbfounded.

“…But not like this,” there’s a look of disbelief painted across his face as he stares at Sonia. Shaking his head, he turns around and leaves without another word.

Meanwhile, Clarice’s mind had gone blank, almost as if she was registering what all this meant for her, but couldn’t process it. She didn’t know what to think. How can someone violate her like that? She trusted these people. She knew something was wrong when she began having those dreams, but she never expected…this.  

And, then, suddenly, there’s an explosion.

One moment, she feels numb. The next, her head is a whirlwind storm of overwhelming emotions and thoughts. She releases a shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  

The world starts spinning on its axis again and she feels disorientated.

Clarice closed her eyes.

She felt betrayed. Dizzy and nauseous and sick to her stomach, all she wants to do is wash herself because even when she lived in the streets, she’s never felt this dirty.

Her head is a whirlwind storm of overwhelming emotions and thoughts.

And out of it rises anger.

Because, how dare she.

Clarice can’t comprehend what she’s doing until it’s too late. But, it’s like her head is detached from her legs, and they have a mind of their own. Next thing she knew, she’s bursting through the kitchen door, slamming it against the adjacent wall—startling Sonia in the process.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Her expression is downright hostile.

Eyes slightly wide, mouth agape and utterly taken back, she remains silent for a moment. “Clarice,” she starts, looking like she’s almost guilty. “Listen, I can explai—“

“No, you’ve said enough,” there’s a fire burning behind her eyes—eyes that are already hard to look away from. “Now it’s my turn.”

She steps closer to Sonia, “I’m not a toy. And I’m not an object. You had no right to treat me like one. All of you here act like your motto is all about caring for and saving people. Like people here all sing Kumbaya and formed this one big happy community of freaks,” she mockingly smiles. “Cut the bullshit. Because all you’ve really done since you brought me here is use me.”

She takes another step, “just tell me one thing,” her facade slips of a sliver of a second and her voice cracks, “why’d you do it?”

Sonia shrugs, and earnestly says,“I did it for Johnny.”

Clarice rolls her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the redhead attempts again.

“I’m sure you are.”


Clarice wills herself to remain calm as she shoves the few items she’s acquired since she moved into the Headquarters into a backpack she swiped from someone else’s living space. Mostly, they are just spare clothes John and Marcos gave her when she first got here.

She putting on her leather jacket, and swinging the bag over her shoulder when John walks in, “Hey, I was looking for you—“

But when he notices her, he stops dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?” He frowns.

“Well, what do you think I’m doing?” Her reply is nonchalant, “what do you think people who just found that some creep put their ex-boyfriend’s memories in their head do?”

When she doesn’t receive a response, she nods, “Trick question: that’s literally never happened to anyone.”

And with that, she heads for the door, sliding past John as his body is blocking the entrance. But as she does, a hand reaches out and grasps her forearm in an attempt to stop her.

When she looks back up at him, he’s already searching for her eyes. In his, there’s something present that Clarice can’t put a finger on. For a moment, silence reigns. Then, he utters words that were barely audible, and if she wasn’t so close she wouldn’t have heard them either.

“Don’t go.”

He gives her a look. Again. She doesn’t know how to describe it other than intense.

She blinks.

And rips her hand away from his.

“You got what you wanted. You got Lorna back. You don’t need me anymore. So just, let me go.” A beat, “unless…” she shrugs, “is this a prison?” She stares back at him in open defiance, raising her brows.

With a defeated sigh, he steps back.

Clarice turns back around and doesn’t look back as she leaves the Headquarters. On the run, once again. She should’ve known this home was temporary, just like all the previous ones.

John can’t stop himself from staring at the back of her head as she walks away. He can’t stop from blaming himself for what happened. He should. This was all his fault, dammit. He should’ve known what Dreamer would do. He should’ve taken Clarice with him when he went to find the Struckers, just in case. He should’ve told her all those times he had the chance.  

By the time he runs after her outside, he finds the backend of a closing portal. And he knows, even if he tried, it was too late to catch it before it disappeared and he never saw Clarice again.

A/N: This imagine is going to be along the same lines as the beginning of my 24 piece drabble (2 series) set with Raymond and fem!reader, which can be read here  Reader has been sent back through time after a machine malfunction at the science lab where they work. Man, I’ve missed writing Raymond. ;) I could have gone a lot more graphic with this, turning it into a full on attempted rape scene, but I decided to tone it down. 

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France, 1209AD

The realisation was hitting you hard that you would never go home and would be forever stuck in this god-forsaken time period. You had been here six weeks now, living alongside the village carpenter, Etienne. The old man was kind, compassionate and had never asked as to the real reasons why you randomly appeared in the village one afternoon. Etienne rarely asked questions, having a deep seated gut instinct that spoke to him, meaning that he sensed lies. His attitude was that the truth would soon out. Many in the village thought of him as gullible, but they just did not know this man as well as you. 

You finished your stable and dairy barn duties early that day and took the short stroll back to your shared home with Etienne. The sun was high in the sky, it being just after midday and you felt a pang of hunger hit your stomach. 

Etienne was not home as you entered the small house which was situated just on the outskirts of the village, near the forest which led out and followed a long winding river for many miles. This was the route you had contemplated following many a time, but you knew ultimately that you were safer in the village and would put yourself at grave risk out on the road. 

You dropped your leather shoulder bag onto the dining table and looked over the fruit in the bowl, contemplating which one to eat. 

Suddenly there was a loud and deliberate knock at the door. You opened the door, only to be faced with Raymond de Merville, the son of the Lord of the village. Raymond was tall, broad and imposing, and possessed a streak of cruelty. He had also let it be known that he was attracted to you, and was often leering at you whilst you worked in the stables and barn. However, a warm and tingling sensation would settle in the pit of your stomach whenever you saw his ice blue eyes studying you. 

“Why did you abandon your duties early?” he snapped, barging into your home. “My horse needs preparing and no one is there.”

“Because Auben told me that I could finish for the day,” you replied, defending your actions. “I’ve milked all the cows and…”

Raymond moved towards you, a smirk forming on his lips. He was enthralled with you, a stranger and so unlike any other woman he had met before. There was a fire in you and a defiance that he was lusting for. “I do not need details,” he said again, cutting you off. He continued moving closer to you, and you backed away. The way he was looking at you both terrified and aroused you. 

“Is that all you came for, Raymond?” you asked, your voice shaking. Your backside suddenly hit something hard, Etienne’s work bench. 

He just chuckled at you. “Maybe you can give me something I have been waiting on for quite some time now,” he replied, and then he was right against you, his hot breath bearing down on you. Your heart thundered painfully in your chest and you gasped. Raymond reached out, his hand drifting up your cheek. Electricity sparked through you and weight seemed to press down against your stomach and juncture at your thighs, pooling into a pleasurable sensation. No! You couldn’t let this man take what he wanted, allowing him to take advantage and then just move on to the next innocent woman.  

“Don’t touch me,” you told him, moving your head away. 

Then you felt pain in your hip as he grabbed you tightly, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed against yours, and even though that fire began to rage in you again, you found your self control and reached behind you for the work bench. You grabbed something hard and cold, metal to the touch and then pushed Raymond off you as hard as you could. 

He glared at you, his teeth bared like an animal and his eyes raging. “You have some gall,” he growled. Then he dashed at you. 

“Don’t touch me!” you screamed and lashed out, the chisel in your hand hitting him in the face. 

Raymond cried out as the chisel cut into his skin, making a deep gash at his right temple. Blood poured down his face and he stared at you, his teeth still bared. Terror was alight in you, but you held the chisel in your hand. “Come near me again and I’ll take your eyes out,” you hissed. 

The Other (Bucky x Reader) Part 1

Summary: Being a mutant with abilities is difficult enough, without having all this soulmate business to deal with in addition. Y/N meets hers in the least expectant place, but isn’t necessarily as thrilled as he’d hoped. However, a drastic turn of events require them to go to desperate measures to preserve what little they have.

Chapter List


Part One

You were hit with a blinding headache and you let out a loud groan. He quickly followed suit, and your ears went fuzzy.

You grabbed your gun with your other hand as fast as you could, and pointed it at him again. He was holding his in his human arm now, pointing it at you.

You looked at him and your gaze connected. You could see in his eyes that he knew, and you exhaled slowly.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice was raw and husky.

“You’re one of them.”

Everyone’s was different. Well, actually, not quite. But we’ll get back to that. A circle, forever tattooed on the inside of the wrist. Some were big, some were small, but most were about the size of a relatively large coin.

The inside of the circle was blank. That’s the one thing everyone had in common. But the circle itself; the actual frame, that’s where the unique part came in. Everyone’s frame was different, matching only to their Other. Actually, no. That’s not entirely true. See, all humans had a black, grey, or white frame. Mutants, however had all sorts of colours decorating the Mark. Yours was fairly simple, but you didn’t mind. You were a minimalist, anyway.

Sometimes the inside of the circle would flash different colours; indicating the mood of your Other. That’s right, you were basically all tattooed with large mood-ring-equivalents on your wrist. But the mood-ring was fine compared to the Flashes. Every so often, you would get a sudden headache, where you couldn’t see anything around you. All you could see were glimpses of your Other’s sight. All that they saw, you could see. Only for a few seconds, though. The closer you were to meeting them, the more frequent the Flashes were.

Keep reading

On Location Pt. 1- Change of Pace

Characters: Reader, Single!Jensen Ackles

Pairings: Eventual Reader x Jensen

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1530

Summary: Reader is a teacher and decides to go up to the school over Spring Break to grade finals. Little does she know, Supernatural is filming at the High School. She spots Jensen Ackles in the hall, and so it goes. 

Things to know: This one may be too specific, but I had a dream, and I had to write it. It is going to be a series, but if you guys don’t want more, I may just leave it where it ended.

I do not own the images.

You pulled into the parking lot of the north wing. You sighed in relief as you noticed that none of your colleagues were stupid enough to come to the school on Saturday, but you were the idiot that had assigned an essay for the final. Now you had the duty of grading 150 essays by the end of Spring Break. As you sat at home earlier that morning, you kept hearing a voice in the back of your mind, “Those essays aren’t going to grade themselves Ms. Y/L/N.”

It was about the one hundredth time that you had that thought when you decided you better head up to the school and start sifting through those papers. It was a daunting task that was sure to put a damper on your weekend.

As you got out of your car, you remembered a school wide email that was sent out last minute yesterday about avoiding a certain part of the building this weekend. This thought made you second guess your decision to walk into the building, so you closed the driver’s side door and leaned against your car pulling your phone from your back pocket. You opened up your email and scrolled through.

There it was.

Happy Friday Teachers!

Just a reminder that the main office, fine arts, and south side of the building will be closed this weekend. There will be a group filming in the building, so take your work home with you. Sorry this is coming at the worst time, but you don’t need to be working on the weekend anyway. ;)

You laughed at the thought that your principal thought people would actually take work home as you closed your email and stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

You opened the back door to retrieve your large brown leather teacher bag. You swung it over your shoulder and headed toward the door, rifling through your bag to find your school keys. As you approached the door, your hands grazed the cool metal in your bag. You snagged the keys, quickly waving the key faub over the keypad to get in the door.

The door clicked, and you opened it. You headed down the hall toward your room. Once there, you decided you didn’t want to flood the room with light, so you walked to your desk and turned on the desk lamp that was sitting there. Mood lighting. Perfect, you laughed to yourself.

You connected your phone to your Bluetooth speakers and opened your classic rock playlist. You were going to need something loud to get through these essays. As if an answer to your thoughts, Kansas’ album scrolled into view and you selected it, Carry On My Wayward Son blasting through the speaker.

You settled down and pulled out the first group of papers. You looked at the stack of essays to your left and sighed audibly, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. You were going to be here a while. You may not even be up for two stepping later tonight with the girls if this were to take half as long as you expected.

An hour later, you were ready for a break. You picked up your phone and strolled out of your room and headed for the main office, the email you read earlier having slipped your mind

You rounded the corner and began walking the long stretch of hall lined with windows between the cafeteria and the offices.

You noticed a tall, well built man leaning against the wall, his arms holding him up against the window ledge, looking out the windows. You didn’t recognize him, but there was something about the way that blue t-shirt made his arms look that made you want to reach out and touch them. That ass, damn. Just as your mind was wondering, and you were staring at a complete stranger’s ass without shame, you heard a commotion coming from the Fine Arts Center and you remembered the email.

Keep reading

Frustrated & Stressed part 2

The overflowing motivation and inspiration was dwindling down by day 4 and was completely gone by day 5. I managed to finish the nervous system the other day and as I was starting on the muscular system the following day, our group from another course had an emergency meeting. Apparently the script that I had made for our short film was lost. Although we were able to recover it, half of the script was gone. So I had to look up the file and resend it again. Day 4 seemed to be an unlucky day for me. I was summoned all day by various group activities and by the time it was all over, the sun has set and my time was running out.

As soon as I got back to my apartment, I immediately went straight to my drawings which I had left on my floor a couple hours ago in my mad dash to other committments. I haven’t felt as busy as today in my entire life.

But Day 5 proved me wrong.

Last night, I have finished colouring the nervous system and have managed to do a quick outline for the muscular before I literally passed out on the floor. So now I wake with a kink in my neck and lower back due to the uncomfortable position I was in all night.

I eventually got up and looked around the mess I had made. Scattered all over the floor were art supplies, sketches, notebooks and I had various medical books open in front of me. I couldn’t remember how much studying I got last night so that meant I have to re-read them again.

“Later,” I muttered. It was only a little after nine in the morning so I have enough time to finish everything before immersing myself in this again. I decided to take a quick shower to help ease my sore muscles.

After that somewhat relaxing shower, I shut the water off and stumbled back to my room, putting on the most comfortable clothes from my closet. I think it’s Harry’s shirt because of the holes in it and I do not own any band shirts. And judging by the massive KISS printed in front, it’s his.

I went to the kitchen to start up the percolator and noticed the half-eaten sandwich that was starting to spoil on the table. The coffee pot made a noise and I walked over to make myself some. As I took a sip, I thought about my plan for today. The only thing left for me to do was the muscular system visuals then it’s all readings for me. Thinking about the pending work made my shoulders slump. I was so tired. I have poured all of me into this study week plan to get my grades on a good start because I had the awful habit of procrastinating – like any other college student – but when I get spurts of motivation, I take advantage of it. It was the only way I could actually finish things.

So to kind of put the impending at the back of my mind, I decided to do a bit of cleaning because my flat needed it. I started with the kitchen then the bedroom, avoiding the living room so as not to disturb the calm that had blanketed my work space. I finished everything in two hours and I guess that was enough avoiding the inevitable.

I dragged myself to the living room where I sat back down on the floor and gave one last sigh to my school works but as soon as I grabbed my pencil and sketchpad, all thoughts of fatigue, dread and hopelessness vanished and once again I was immersed in a world of colour and curiosity that made me forget about reality for a couple of hours.

I don’t know how long it had been but somewhere between sketching the rectus femoris and the hamstring group, I felt a pang of pain in my midsection. My mind immediately thought of its place as the rectus abdominis and I was sucked back into the system.

I had this thought at the edge of my mind that I was forgetting something but I brushed it off and continued to draw the last of the muscles. After a few more lines, I was finally done. I laid all of them neatly on the floor and admired them. The only thing left to do was to color them in.

Knock. Knock

My head snapped to the direction of my door and I stood up, hearing my bone crack in the process. Yikes. How long have I been sitting there?

Another round of knocks sounded as I stalked over the door. I didn’t bother looking through the peephole as I swung the door open. And there revealed a tall man wearing all black with bags on his hands. I didn’t get the chance to fully inspect him before I was engulfed in a warm hug. But I didn’t need to see him, though, because his familiar scent told me all I needed to know. That he was here, in the flesh and that this was real. “Hey,” he whispered in my ear and pressed a kiss to my head as we both held each other. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until now. I felt my muscles relax as he held me tighter and breathed me in. He has been gone too long.

“Hi,” I finally said, after releasing each other and I got to get a good look at him. He was wearing his dark peacoat – my favorite – over his YSL shirt and some skinny jeans with his tan boots, of course. Slung over his shoulder is his leather duffel bag. He looked more broader, his hair a lot longer and more handsome than before he left for tour. Tour. Wait. “What are you doing here? You have tour.”

He raised an eyebrow at me and smiled amusedly. “It ended months ago, love. Don’t you remember?”

I smacked my head as my mind cleared up a little bit from all those terms I have managed to get stuck in my brain. “Right, right. Of course. You were in LA with Jeff.” I said mostly to myself. I opened the door wider to let him in. “Why didn’t you text me, though? I would have picked you up at the airport or something,” I followed him to the living room where he placed his bags beside the couch where my things were still strewn across the floor. He spun around and laughed at me, “or I could’ve cleaned in here to make the place more presentable.”

Harry gestured for us to move our conversation to the kitchen. “I don’t mind the clutter, it’s nice to see you actually study plus I did text you.”

“You did?” Now that I think of it, I haven’t checked my phone for days. I silently followed him again and as soon as I stepped into the kitchen, I was blinded by the fluorescent.

“Jesus, (Y/N),” Harry muttered and grabbed both my shoulders. I looked up at him, confused but he just stared at me. His eyes flitted between my own, a crease had formed in the middle of his forhead, and his lips were pressed into a tight line. “When was the last time you slept?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I just woke up a couple hours ago, Harry.”

“Are you sure?” I nodded at him. “How about the last time you ate?” I was going to roll my eyes at him again but I stopped and really thought about it. Harry’s hands left my shoulders and wound them across his chest when I was taking too long to answer as if proving a point.

If I remember correctly, when I woke up this morning I had coffee but that was it. “Uh, I had coffee for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” He looked at me incredulously.

Not this again. I am in no mood to have this conversation with him. I am overly tired and as if the universe was suddenly against me, my stomach grumbled reminding me I still haven’t had lunch. “If it makes you feel any better, we can go grab lunch now.” I offered.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” He scoffed. Seriously, what the hell is his problem? Sure I missed a meal, it’s not like we couldn’t grab one right now. And here I am volunteering to eat and yet he’s still mad at me. What on earth does he want me to do?

I can feel the slight irritation crawling on my skin at the tone of his voice. “What?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Look out the window.”

I looked to my right expecting to see something significant but all I could see was pitch black, I could barely see over my backyard. What was I supposed to be looking at exactly? Everything is dark.

Then it hit me. Dark.

That meant the stars were out and possibly the moon. Night. It was already night time. It was too late for lunch. I glanced back at Harry and grabbed for his wrist where a gold watch was strapped. The tiny clock read 11:45pm. It was almost midnight. It was too late for dinner too. Wow. Time flew by without me noticing. A lot of things seemed to slip my mind lately.

“Baby, are you okay?” Harry’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was now holding my face, his expression soft and his previous anger was replaced with worry. “You’re shaking,” on cue, my senses returned to me and I could feel my body was indeed shaking.

“I–” I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt dizzy and I could feel my body go limp, my knees weakening.

“Woah,” Harry immediately caught me, wrapping both arms around my waist before I hit the ground. He half-carried me over to the bar stool and sat me there. My head lolled forward, landing on his shoulder. “Love, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

I blinked a few times and tried to assess myself. I pulled away from Harry’s shoulder weakly and tried to hold it there as I attempted to speak. He snaked a hand to my cheek where I leaned in for support. “I think I’m h-having hypoglycemia… you know… when… blood sugar is low because of…” I paused, my head spinning. “… and I think I’m dehydrated.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

I squinted as my vision became a little bit blurry. I tried to make out his face, his eyes. His eyes that were once so vibrant and full of life was now dull and full of worry. Because of me. Because of my carelessness. “Do I need to bring you to the hospital?”

“No, no,” I shook my head weakly and winced as the world tipped slightly. “There’s a juice box in the fridge, I think, and I also think there’s a chocolate bar, too.” He looked like he was going to protest about my food choices, probably going to say it wasn’t healthy or some shit so I quickly added, “I need those, first, Harry. Don’t fight me on this one.” And with that, he gently positioned me to lean on the table as he went to the fridge and got what I asked him.

He popped the straw in the box and placed it on my lips. I reluctantly took a sip and was grateful for the liquid as it entered my system but all too soon, it was pulled away from me and was replaced by a bar of Snickers. I took one bite and took my time chewing it. It really bewilders me how I didn’t realize how much time I was spending in my studies so I came to the conclusion that: College is toxic.

Harry waved the candy bar in front of me again but I shook my head to say that I only needed a bite. He pushed back the juice box towards me as he put the chocolate in the fridge and grabbed a water bottle before closing the door.

“How are you feeling?” He asked. I only shrugged in response because I didn’t know if the food had worked its magic on me yet. I brought my hand up to see if I was shaking and still, I was. I sighed to myself and held the juice box between my hands, no longer feeling like drinking it. Harry had his massive hands on my back, rubbing smooth circles on it.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, me sipping here and there, and Harry never ceasing his gentle gestures. He patiently stayed by my side humming things that came to his mind. “I’m sorry,” I finally said after deciding that I was okay now. Harry snapped his head to my direction with furrowed eyebrows. Oh, how I want those lines to go away. “I’m sorry I forgot to eat. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry for getting mad at you, I was just really stressed. I know that’s not an excuse but–”

I was cut off by Harry engulfing me in a tight warm hug. “Shh, are you okay?” Were the first words that flew out of his mouth. He was so kind and it made me feel more guilty than I already am. “What matters is that you’re fine now and that I’m here to take care of you.” He kissed my head before pulling away and looking into my eyes. “You’re okay now, right?”

I nodded. “Do you still want to get some dinner or midnight snack?” I smiled at him.

“No, let’s stay here. I’ll cook us something to eat.” And finally, the dimple that I adored so much, made its appearance on his cheek. To be honest, I was really glad he didn’t want to go out because I still felt weak and I didn’t trust myself to walk, let alone stand up. “Do you wanna go up to your bed?”

I shook my head. “I like watching you cook.” And with that he stood up and started grabbing everything he needed, not before planting another kiss on my forehead.

I momentarily forgot about the school works that were silently calling for my attention from the living room. I’m too tired to go back and face them again, so I let my mind wander over to the curly haired boy in my kitchen who was shaking his bum and dancing to a tune only he could hear. I laughed at him and settled further into my seat with only one thought in my mind: I deserve this little break but I would probably regret this tomorrow.


image: four picture of a non binary person with dark hair and black rimmed glasses. they are wearing a dark shirt and a black faux leather jacket. they have a black, floral bag over one shoulder and a guitar strapped over their other shoulder. end description.

~*~punk rock enby // latinx freedom fighter~*~

bonus: when my datemate @feuillyadeux made me laugh


Part One 

Dean x reader 

College AU

Summary: The reader and Dean are neighbors in college. The reader learns about the knew social status called the DUFF. The reader is desperate a looks for help.  Dean helps her reinvent herself while she tutors Dean. But she didn’t expect to fall for him. 

A/N: This is my first Dean x reader so any fed back would be very helpful! Thank you!

Originally posted by black-little-demons

You could never have figured out where it all went wrong when everything in your life collapsed on itself. How could everything go so wrong in so little time?  It must have been the day when you thought it would be a fantastic idea to go to a fraternity party the night before an important exam. How could you have been so stupid? But no, it wasn’t the fact that it was a school night or the fact that you had the late shift the next night at the bar. No, it was the unbelievable idea that you thought you could go one night without embarrassing yourself, or for that matter, able to be normal for one night.

               It was one of those days where all you could do was think about getting out of class. The professor would just not stop talking! The ancient man dragged out all of his words in such a slow manner that you thought time might have stopped. It was Thursday and you needed lunch, desperately. But no, the professor just had to repeat everything you needed to prepare for tomorrow’s exam.

              You sat in the half-filled auditorium, looking at the big screen. Tapping your pen on your desk you look at the time on your computer. Two minutes left till the long awaited freedom. It wasn’t that you didn’t like your class, it was your favorite in fact and you were the top of your class, but you just couldn’t find the energy to care. It was a long and vigorous shift last night so you were already tired and irritable. Luckily you had tonight off.

              After packing up your items and slipping your leather bag over your shoulder, you walked outside, the sun blinding you for a moment.

“Y/N!” you heard your name called out from your right side. Turning towards the sound, you squinted your eyes looking for the person who called out. Sitting on the cement wall waiting for you were your two best friends, Lizzy and Jenna. The two girls were both taller than you, so naturally, when they both got up, you tilted your head slightly.

“Ready for some lunch?” Lizzy asked. Looking at your friend you took in what she decided to wear today, ripped jeans, a white lace camisole, with brown boots. Her blonde hair was curled and almost everything about her looked flawless. You had to give her credit, the girl knew fashion and one day hoped to be an aspiring fashion designer.

“Yeah I was thinking about Polly’s; does that sound good?” commented Jenna, and you glanced over at her. Her shiny black hair was put up in a ponytail and her tan was looking great. Jenna was the jock of your group, captain of your college’s soccer team and coach of a young girls’ team as a job. Today she was in jeans with Nike’s and a white t-shirt.

“Sounds perfect!” you responded. You looked down at your red and black flannel with jeans and sneakers and thought it would be good enough.

Walking into the small café, you instantly smelled the coffee and smell of dusty old wood. You each took a seat at a table next to a window. When the waiter came he said hello to the two other girls by name, he must be new, you thought because you’ve been a regular at Polly’s for two years now, how could he not know you? You each ordered a sandwich and coffee then began light chatting.

“Uh-oh, don’t look now but it’s Amy Roberts.” Jenna quickly whispered then sipping her coffee as if trying to hide her face.

Ugh, Amy Roberts, the rich snobby red head, who only attends the university because her father is a big contributor to the school. You weren’t even sure what she was studying.

She sashayed right over to your table and you immediately felt everything you just ate rise in your stomach.

“Hello ladies, I just wanted to give you these invitations for my party tonight, it’s at my fraternity house, hope to see you there.” She set the two envelopes on the table. To say you were shocked was an understatement.

“Why are you inviting us?” you asked curiously.

Amy then laughed as if you had said was a joke. “I’m not inviting you silly, I’m inviting Lizzy and Jenna. I would invite you, but I only have so many invitations, sorry maybe next time.” She faked a sad frown. That’s it, you thought, today is the day, I swear I will rip those fake eyelashes off so hard you won’t be able to see two feet in front of yourself! But as it turns out, Jenna beat you to it.

“Well, here we can fix that.” She took her invitation and tore it in half. Jenna turned to you and gave you the other half with a smile. It made you happy to know she had your back, as fearless as ever.

Amy faked a smile, “Great! Can’t wait to see you there Y/N, but wear something nice.” She had the nerve to look you up and down as if you weren’t even worthy to look at. “See you later.” And she sashayed back out of the café, to join her little group of followers.

“That girl makes me want to scream.” You sighed in frustration and the girls giggled at you.

“I just feel really bad for Dean,” Lizzy said. Right, Dean Winchester, Amy’s ex-boyfriend, but then again he could be her boyfriend. They were the type of couple that would be on and off again constantly, like strobe lights. He was the quarterback for your school’s football team, the school neanderthal, your childhood neighbor, and unfortunately, your current neighbor.  You both lived in a three-story building, your apartments on the top floor, right next to each other. You could hear him partying every other night while you were up late trying to study.

“Well, he got himself into that mess.” You said, believing every word of it. You just didn’t go for guys like that. The ones who think they own the world because they’re strong and find that everything comes easily to them. You were into the ones who actually had the intellect and could hold a conversation without the words “nice ass” or “workout”. Someone like the guy sitting on the other side of the restaurant. The light brown hair, hazel eyed angel. His name is Gabriel, but everyone calls him Gabe. He is in your communications class and he plays guitar, but you never actually spoke to him.

“Y/N…Y/N!” you snap out of your daydreaming to turn your eyes back to your friends.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You quickly tried to cover up you’re unbearably awkward staring.

“Aww, Jenna, Y/N was making love eyes to Gabe, how cute.” Lizzy teased.

“I wasn’t making ‘love eyes’,” You retorted with air quotes, “I was just simply gazing with interest.”

“Yeah, well I heard from Chuck that Gabe was going to be there tonight at Amy’s party,” Jenna informed while poking you.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but hope.

“Uh-huh, so let’s go back to your place and pick out an outfit for you.”

“Isn’t what I’m wearing fine?” you said. You felt really comfortable and didn’t feel like changing.

“Yeah if we were going hunting!” Lizzy exaggerated.

“Fine let’s just get this done.” You rolled your eyes, not feeling like dressing up or being in a large crowd. But to be able to have the chance to talk to Gabe was too great to pass up.


Four hours later you three are standing on the doorstep of a large and beautiful house.

“Y/N, are you sure want to go in like that, just please take my extra shirt.” Lizzy pointed to her purse with the tight-fit strapless shirt.
“No way, this is my lucky party shirt!” you said. You were in a black skirt with a red Led Zeppelin t-shirt and black combat boots.

She just smiled and rolled her eyes as she and Jenna walked inside the house. As you walked in, you had to look out for the drunk people who almost spilled their drinks all over you. The house crowded with people everywhere, half of them you’ve never even seen before and some you were sure weren’t even students. It was loud with music booming and people cheering over drink games.

The girls lead you to the backyard next to the pool, where there was just a little bit more space. The air was hot and sticky and all you wanted was to be home with a good book and your bed. You casually looked around, hoping to catch a glance at Gabe, but no luck. When you turned back around, the girls were dancing.

“Come dance with us!” Lizzy exclaimed.

“No, no I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You said, feeling awkward just standing there, but knowing you’ll look awkward if you tried to dance.

“Pleasssssse!” they pleaded.
“I think I’ll just go get something to drink.” You said, but it didn’t matter because they were already busy dancing again. You just smiled to yourself, glad that at least they were having fun.

As you walked inside you saw Kevin, one of the smarter but more popular people of your school, who was also not that bad looking either.

“Hey… what’s your name again?” he asked you, clearly buzzed.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “Y/N, Kevin we have English together.” you stated.

“Right, Y/N, have you seen Lizzy and Jenna? Did they come with you?” you could smell the beer on his breath.

“Uh, yeah. They’re right out back.”

“Thanks.” He said as he drunkenly stumbles away.

Wanting to take a load off, you walked over to the table with drinks. While pouring your drink you heard a laugh somewhere near you. You turned to your right to see that the laugh belonged to none other than Dean Winchester.

“Y/N! What the on earth are you doing here, at a frat party, on a school night!” he said with a surprised look. You saw he was wearing a tight black t-shirt with jeans.

“Shut up Winchester, you make me sound like a prudent old lady. For your information, I will go to my occasional party.” He chuckled.

“Yeah well I can sometimes hear your party right next door, I’m guessing your bedroom,” he wiggled his eyes, “you know, thin walls and all.” You gasped at him and lightly punched his shoulder.  

“Relax Y/N, I’m just kidding. So where are your girls, Jenna and Lizzy?”

“How should I know Dean, I’m not their secretary.”

“Well you, should, as you know, their DUFF,” Dean said as if it was obvious.

“As their what?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Their DUFF. Designated, Ugly, Fat, Friend.”

“What did you just say to me?” you couldn’t believe this, you were about to slap the man.

“You know, you’re the person everyone goes to when they want to be with Lizzy or Jenna. Every group of friends has them. The approachable one. The person who is less good looking than the rest of them.” He gestured his arms towards you. But you just blinked at him, not understanding and a little bit ticked off.

“Okay, for example, see that guy over there, the freshmen, he’s new to our football team. Well, Paige, the hot senior, is talking to him, to gain info about me. Probably to see if I’m single.” He pointed to where the pair were standing on the white staircase.

You looked over to see a tall gangly looking boy who was clearly nervous around the good looking girl who was sort of paying attention to him. You saw her whisper something to him, then they both glanced at Dean. Paige gave him a kiss on the cheek and then turned on her heels to leave him. As she walked past you two she gave a little flirtatious wave to Dean. You saw he gave her a charming smile and wink and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

He turned back to you and said, “See what I mean.” Taking this in, you looked around to find more and more of these situations going on.

“Okay Y/N, about how many times a day do people ask you about Jenna or Lizzy?”

You thought for a moment, “A fair amount, but so what I’m their- “he cut you off.

“Now how many people ask you about you?” You couldn’t answer, and that really hurt. Hearing all of this made you sick. So many thoughts were flying through your head and you couldn’t take it. The crowd, the noise, the heat, and new information was just all too much.

“See Y/N, this was a good talk.” And this douchebag was too much, “I feel like-” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence because you through your beer all over him. Too angry to think you stormed out of the house, almost pushing someone over in the process. Lizzy drove you and there was no way you were going to go back in there. You had no cash on you so you couldn’t get a taxi. Sighing, you picked up your feet and began walking home.

You replayed the last ten minutes in your head, getting angrier just thinking about it. But you couldn’t help to reflect on your past relationship with your two friends. Yeah sure, they were taller, a little bit more fit, and beautiful, while you were smaller and more petite, but you weren’t fat or ugly by no means. The nerve of some people! But then you remembered how when the waiter said hello to Jenna and Lizzy, Amy gave invitations to only them, and Kevin asked where they were. And that was only today!

You just looked up at the open night sky and screamed an angry cry. People were assholes and you weren’t going to let it get to you.


And you didn’t, until the next day. When you woke up it was your first thought and it pissed you off.
“Ah, fuck it.” You said, giving up on how looked. You rolled out of bed and kept on your gray t-shirt and green and gray plaid pajama pants. Your hair was in a messy bun you noticed but just shrugged your shoulders. You applied deodorant, brushed your teeth, slipped on your sneakers, grabbed your bag, and headed for your day of classes.  

When you got to your psychology class you were used to the uncomfortable feeling of eyes on you. You had been through three classes of this and library full of students. You took your seat towards the back of the auditorium.

“Hey Duffy, need help studying? And nice PJ’s.” Oh great, it was Dean, just the idiot you didn’t want to see.

“No. Go away.”

“Ouch, why so grumpy, you shouldn’t be mad at me, I should be mad at you, you ruined my favorite shirt.” You gave him a death glare.

“Dean,” you started turning towards his desk next to yours, “you called me fat and ugly. Of course, I’m mad at you!”

“What… no, I didn’t. I called you the DUFF.”

“Yeah well excuse me that it stands for designated ugly fat friend!”

“Yes, but the DUFF doesn’t actually have to be fat or ugly. Tony Romo is a Dallas Cowboy, doesn’t mean he has to ride a horse.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You said, annoyed to the point of punching him.

“That’s not the point, the point is I would never call you, or anyone for that matter fat or ugly. It’s just the word and it stuck.”

“Oh my god, get out of here before I murder you.” You replied fed up. He got up and walked away but then came back a second later.

“You’re not really going to murder me are you?” he asked. You replied with what you felt was a murderous stare. “Okay, you really are.” Then he walked away for good.

When you walked out of the of your seminar, you overheard Dean talking to your professor.

“Mr. Winchester I’m sorry but you can’t keep playing with these grades. Another F is not acceptable. You will be suspended from the football team.” Dean looked crushed and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Please Professor, is there anything I can do?” he asked with desperation in his voice.

“Once you bring your grade up to a B, you can play at games, until then only one practice a week.”

Before either of them could notice you, you quickly walked out of the classroom. While walking on the sidewalk an idea popped into your head and it involved the one and only Dean Winchester. Seems as you can’t get rid of him yet.


“Y/N? Are you okay?” You looked up from your book you were reading in the library. You saw Lizzy and Jenna walking towards you. It was the first time you had seen both of them, as you were trying to avoid both them. It just didn’t feel right being with them.

“I’m fine.” You said a little too sharply. “How was the party?”

“Oh, it was great! Someone jumped off the roof and into the pool and then the cops showed up! Where were you, when did you leave?” Jenna spoke quickly.

“I- uh wasn’t feeling well. So I just walked home, I didn’t want to make you guys leave.” You said, avoiding their eyes.  

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay?” Lizzy continued to push, worry coming across her face.

“I said I was fine!” you snapped surprising the girls and even yourself.

“Y/N what’s going on, come on, talk to us.” Jenna pleaded.

“Just let it go, my goodness!” you grabbed your books and bag and rushed out of the library. You were boiling, this whole DUFF thing was really getting to you. It wasn’t your friends’ fault; you just couldn’t help to take it out on them.

Two hours later and you couldn’t believe who you were standing next to.

“So you want me to de-DUFF you? Make you more attractable? Why me?” Dean raised his eyebrows questioning you.

“Because you were the only asshole to tell me about the whole DUFF thing. You’re an asshole, but an honest asshole. I need that. So will you teach me how to be more, uh likable.” You gave him puppy eyes. “You see I like this guy, Gabriel, and I want him to notice me.” Dean looked down at you as he caught a football. He was sweating and you could see his bright green eyes with the sun shining on them.

“And what’s in it for me?” He asked.

“I heard you were failing psychology. Dean that’s my best class! I could tutor you and give you my notes. With my help, you’ll get a B in no time and you’ll be right back on the field playing football.” You gave him a grin hoping he will agree.

“You make it sound so easy. For you yeah it might be easy to teach me, you’re a genius. But I have real work to do with you.” He through the football back, his biceps flexing in the process. You punched him in the arm knowing that he was only joking.

“Not funny Winchester.”

“What, I thought it was.” He winked at you. “Fine, I’ll do it!”

“Great!” you felt a wave of relief, you really didn’t know if your plan would work.

“But,” and you felt your stomach drop. “You have to give me a hug.”

“Right now?” you asked hoping to God that he didn’t mean it.

“Oh yeah, while I’m nice a sweaty.” The blond man grinned at you. “Do for old time’s sake Y/N.”

“No way Dean!”

“Fine then you can kiss Gabriel goodbye, but oh wait, you wouldn’t kiss h-”

“Okay, I’ll hug you! Gosh, you’re so immature Winchester you know?” you ridiculed.

“Ah but you love me Y/N. Now come here!” He wrapped his arms around you.

“Ew, you smell Dean!” But he just laughed at you, and eventually you joined him.

“Just like in the backyard, remember?” he asked.

“Yeah, whatever.” You responded. You peeled yourself away from his wide frame.

“Okay so let’s wake up around nine, have breakfast and go to the mall together. It will be our first lesson.” Dean suggested.

“Sounds good. See then neighbor.” You waved to him.

“Alright awesome.” He grinned back.

This was a terrible idea you thought to yourself as you walked off of campus. But maybe Dean can get you Gabe, and who knows? It might even be kind of fun, right?

The Curve: April


Clarke woke to the sound of her phone, vibrating angrily against the wood of the bedside table.  Disoriented and half-asleep, she gazed at the tiny alarm clock next to her, wondering who would have the audacity to call at 3am.  She grabbed the phone, staring at the unfamiliar number and fearing the worst as she swiped the screen.


There was a dedicated pause, followed by the sound of low, soft chucking.  A moment later Lexa’s voice filled her ear.

“Her unmistakable skill is coupled with a relentless work ethic, and while such remarkable talent could easily make the young phenom cocksure, she possesses an equally remarkable sense of humility.”

The corner of Clarke’s lip pressed agains the cool glass of the phone as she smiled, embarrassed to hear her own words read back to her.

“You read the article, I see.”

A lazy laugh on the other end of the phone betrayed the unmistakable effects of alcohol and exhaustion.

“I wanted to read it earlier, but the game went extra innings, and I got dragged out after for drinks.”

“How’d it go?”

Clarke listened to the sound of computer keys being tapped as she waited for Lexa to answer.

“We carried a 3 and 0 lead going into the eighth until our number two pitcher relived me and gave up a double and a two-run shot.  Deadlock through the ninth and tenth innings, a go-ahead run in the 12th, and I came back in to close the last half-inning.  I now have a 1–0 win–loss record for Class-A advanced ball.”  As she spoke, Lexa blended her words together ever so slightly, having clearly enjoyed the post-game celebration.

“So you liked the article?”

“I loved it, although I don’t think my teammates will ever let me live it down.”

“Well, I should hope not.  I did call you a phenom, after all.”

“You also called me charming.”

The reporter laughed, trying to remember what line Lexa was referring to.  “Did I?”

“Affable and charming, the young pitcher possesses the kind of easy confidence that baseball legends are made of.”

“Ahh, so I did then.”

She listened to Lexa continue to tap keys, and giggle drunkenly.

“Your article doesn’t mention our date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“I meant the one we’re going on when I get back.”

Clarke rolled her eyes as she settled back into her bed, doing her best to fight off sleep.

“Very clever.”

“You mean very charming?”

The blonde stifled a yawn, and burried her face in the soft down of an oversized pillow.

“You’re the worst.”

“Go on a date with me?”

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Clarke sighed.  “How about we trade? I’ll go on a date with you, in exchange for another interview, later in the season.  The managing editor at the paper went nuts for the article.  He wants me to do a follow-up piece.”

The reporter could almost feel Lexa’s smile through the phone, as she waited for the pitcher to reply to her terms.



“If it means a date with you, I’ll do a hundred interviews.”

“Slow down there, Woods.  One more should be fine.”

“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t offer.”

Clarke’s eyelids sagged as sleep began to give in to her exhaustion.  She rolled onto her side, realizing that if she didn’t get back to sleep soon, there would be no point in going back to sleep at all.

“I should go.  There is an early morning staff meeting at the paper, and I need to be awake for at least 75% of it. Congratulations, again.”

Lexa giggled.  “Thank you. I mean, it was an uphill battle, but I knew I’d get you to agree to a date eventually.”

“I meant on your win.”

“Oh right, that!”

Clarke half yawned, half laughed as she shook her head.  She curled into herself, pulling the cover around her tighter.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming?”

“You’re about to loose that date.”

“No take backs!”

“Alright, but this time I get to pick the place.”

“Just tell me when and where, lady.”

“How about Friday, 502 East River Street, 5:30pm?”

“Prefect!  We have an early game Friday. I have the night off.”

“Friday it is then. Anyway… Goodnight Lexa.”

“Goodnight Clarke.”

Clarke closed her eyes as as the phone finally went silent.  A moment later she allowed sleep to overtake her, the faintest hint of a smile playing on her lips as she thought about Friday, and remembered the way Lexa looked when she was off the field.

Even for 5:25pm on a Friday night, River Street was busy.  Lexa made her way down the bustling sidewalk, feeling underdressed in a t-shirt and jeans, boots, and her team jacket.  The outfit seemed rather casual next to the well-dressed couples she passed, sitting outside bars and restaurants, enjoying the night air, but the day-game had gone extra innings, and she hadn’t had time to make it home home and change.  Besides, she was running late, and if it came down to looking impressive or being punctual, Lexa was decidedly in favor of the later.

Jogging up to her destination, Lexa stoped, re-check the number she’d written down when she saw the building that matched the address.  Lexa stared at the small, wooden food-shack in front of her, confused. Two menus were posted just below the ordering window, each one with “The Naked Dog,” written across the top in large letters.  Just to the left, was a metal food cart covered in signs that advertised “Eisenberg Hot Dogs.”  Lexa checked the address again, sure that she’d come to the wrong place, and worried that it was now 5:33pm.

“Darn it! You beat me again.”

The pitcher turned on her heels when she heard the reporter’s voice.  Clarke stood behind her, looking radiant in a blue sundress and strappy heals, a chunky, leather tote bag slung casually over her shoulder.

“You dressed up again.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “I came from work.”

“So you say.”  Lexa smirked, giving her a small wink, before realizing that the blonde’s presence meant that the destination was indeed correct.

“So… You brought me to a hot dog stand?”

“I did.”

Lexa gazed back at the food shack, her smile faltering a little.

“Clarke… This isn’t exactly date food.”

Clarke gave her a smug smile, and nodded.  “A fair assumption, but…”

She walked past Lexa cocking an eyebrow suggestively as she crossed towards the shack.  “You only say that because you haven’t tried it yet.”

Forty minutes, and several hotdogs later, the pair laughed as they ambled down River Street together, passing the last of something called a “Slaw Dog” back and forth.  Clarke tried not to choke on her food as Lexa moaned in pleasure.

“Ugh… This is so good! What is in this sauce?”

Clarke wiggled her eyebrows, giggling at the brunette.  “Nobody know, that’s why they call it mystery sauce.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s delicious.”

Clarke smiled triumphantly, crossing her arms over her chest.  “See, I told you you’d feel differently about the place after you ate there.”

Lexa gave Clarke a playful but extremely gentle shove, sticking out the tip of her tongue for the briefest of moments.  “Okay, okay….  You were right.  But, I still say it’s an unorthodox choice for a date.  What made you think of it anyway?”

The Blonde shoved the final bit of Slaw Dog in her mouth, chewing it greedily.  A moment later she smiling bashfully, gazing over at her companion with guilty eyes.  “Honestly? In the interest of full disclosure, I actually grab dinner there every Friday.”

The brunette furrowed her brow skeptically.  “You eat hot dogs from a street-food stand every Friday?”

Clare shrugged, pausing long enough before she answered, that Lexa knew she was revealing something sacred.

“As a kid, I spent school breaks down here. My father would take me there every Friday night. We would get hotdogs, and walk along the river, and he’d listen to me rattle on for hours about friends, and school, and life with my mother.”

Clarke looked out over the river, avoiding eye contact with Lexa as she continued.

“I don’t know why, but about a month after I moved down here I got this weird urge to see if that place was still around.  One Friday after work, I came down here and there it was, exactly the same.  One visit turned into two and… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to keep the tradition alive.”

Lexa considered everything Clarke had told her, mulling the information over thoughtfully.

“You know… That’s a pretty longstanding tradition for someone who says they weren’t very close with their father.”

Clarke sighed, finally looking back at Lexa.  “It’s complicated.”

A breeze picked up, causing Clarke to rubbed at her upper arms.  Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly, and Lexa noticed the beginning of goosebumps forming on the blonde’s pale skin.

“Do you want my jacket?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, looking at the young pitcher skeptically.  “No, I’m…”

The breeze picked up again, becoming a genuine wind and turning the evening air cold.  Clarke’s teeth chattered and her shoulders tremble again.  She looked at Lexa, bitting her lip, reluctant to admit her need after her initial attempt to refuse the offer.  “On second thought… Would you mind?”

Lexa laughed at her companion, shaking her head in amusement.  “Of course.”  She shrugged the jacket off, letting it slide down her muscular arms before grasping it by the sides and holding it open for the tiny blonde.

The reporter gave Lexa a shy, half-smile, avoiding her eyes as she slipped her arms into the satin sleeves, and allowed the pitcher to slide the jacket over her shoulders gently.  Though jacket was several sizes too big for Clarke, she enjoying the way Lexa’s body heat lingered in the soft fabric.  Clarke wrapped the sides of the coat tightly around her small frame, inhaling the scents that the prior occupant had left, lingered on the collar; citrus, sandalwood, and a subtle hint of tanner’s oil from a baseball glove.

“Thank you.”

Lexa only nodded, fighting to hold back the smile that was forming as she took in the the sight of Clarke, swimming in her too big baseball jacket.

A comfortable silence settled over the two as they began making their way down River street again.  The wind continued to pick up, hastening the clouds that had begun to roll in over the Savannah River. Soon, the cold had driven most people back inside restaurants and bars, and Lexa and Clarke were left to wandering the cobblestone street alone.

As they made their way down the sidewalk, Lexa stole occasional glances at Clarke, watching as the blonde burrowed even further into her jacket.

“That’s a good look for you.”

Clarke blushed, shooting Lexa a grin as she raised an eyebrow.  “What? This old thing?”

The pitcher’s laughter was interrupted by the feeling of a hard, cold drop of rain water hitting her forehead.  It slid, lazily, down the side of her nose coming to rest on the point of her upper lip. Lexa glanced up at the darkening sky, noticing how low the clouds were hanging now, and listening to the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.

She sighed, trying to hide her disappointment as she smiled at the beautiful girl who was wrapped in her jacket.

“Looks like we’re about to get rained out.”

“So it does.”  Clarke peered into the sky.  A few raindrops landing on her cheeks as she frowned at the poorly timed weather.  She wiped the rain form her face and looked back at Lexa, tilting her head towards a nearly Public House.

“Well, it’s still early, and I had a pretty long day at work. Any interest in grabbing drinks?”

Lexa rubbed the back of her neck nervously as she considered the offer.

“Honestly, there’s nothing in the world I’d like more right now, but…”  She sighed, wagging an internal battle over her impulse to stretch out the evening as long as possible.  Finally, she gritted her teeth, and gave Clarke an apologetic look.

“Gosh, this is embarrassing but… Clarke, the thing is, money’s a little tight right now, and I know if I follow you into that bar, I’m pretty confident one drink will become as many as it takes to keep you there, talking to me.  I think I’d better not, as much as I’d like to.”

Clarke nodded, her face softening in an understanding manner.  She smiled, brushing a few more drops of rain from her face, and pushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear.  “I understand.  That’s ok though, I’ve got some beers at the house so… I suppose a night in, watching movies on the couch works too.”  She looked over her shoulder, pointing in the direction of a side street.

“Anyway, my car is parked over there so…”  She slid Lexa’s jacket off and handed it back to the lean brunette.

Lexa took the coat, tucking it under her arm as she moved in to give Clarke a parting hug.  Before she had a chance though, Clarke leaned up, swiftly pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks for the jacket Champ.”  A second later Clarke had turned on her heels, and was hurrying back towards her vehicle.  

The rain started falling in earnest then, soaking the stunned young pitcher, flooding the street, and making tiny rivers of the cervices between the cobblestones.  Halfway down the sidewalk, Clarke turned back towards Lexa, smirking out of the corner of her mouth and placing a hand on her hip.


Lexa cocked her head, unsure.  “Well, what?”

Clarke smirked again, giving Lexa a wink.  “Well… Are you coming or not?”

They stepped out of the car and made a made dash for the front door, helpless against the downpour as Clarke fumbled to find the right key.  By the time they made it inside the brick apartment building, they were soak to the bone.  They girls shivered as they made their way up the stairs, and down a short hallway to the door marked 2B.  Clarke paused, giving her companion a shy smile.

“My mother used to rent this place out, but she never really redecorated it.  It’s still all of my father’s old furniture and stuff in there.  You’ll have to excuse the place if it’s a little 1990’s bachelor pad.”

Lexa placed an arm on the blonde’s shoulder reassuringly, sure that the place couldn’t possibly be that bad.  “Trust me Clarke, I’m sure it’s much nicer than my place.”  She winked at Clarke, giving her a confident smile, though she secretly hoped she’d never have occasion to show the reporter where she lived.

“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,”  Clarke sighed, turning the key in the lock and pushing.

The heavy wooden door swung slowly forward, creaking on it’s hinges.  Lexa followed Clarke through the doorway, pausing behind the smaller woman as she felt along the hallway wall for the light switch.  A second later there was a click, and when the apartment flooded with light, it immediately became apparent to Lexa what Clarke had meant about the decor.

“Wait here.  I’ll go get us some dry clothes.”  The blonde dashed through the living room and disappeared down the lone hallway, leaving Lexa to look around.

The whole place was exposed brick walls and cedar ceiling beams, with an atmosphere that practically screamed bachelordom.  The main room had an open space concept and was divided into two tiers.  The upper deck held the kitchen and a small eating area, and was divided from the rest of the room by a low wall with a fireplace in the center of it.  Two leather armchairs sat in front of the fireplace, and behind that, along the side wall, a full bar, complete with counter-top, stools, wall mirrors, and neon lighting.  Behind the armchairs, a large pool table sat in the center for the room, dividing the rest of it from the den area, which was a every bit the recreation room of a 1990’s single, adult male.  The wraparound couch was a well worn chestnut leather, and the shelves against the far wall were brimming with DVD’s and old VHS tapes.  In the middle of the large entertainment center sat a rather old fashioned looking, big-screen television.

What was most characteristic about the apartment however, what defined its essence, was that every square inch of it was steeped in baseball memorabilia.  The place was a veritable shrine to the American pastime.  The walls were decorated with old-timey photographs of the Polo Grounds and Shea Stadium, the shelves held plastic boxes with autographed baseballs, battle-worn leather gloves, and tattered baseball caps.  Here and there, framed jerseys hung on the wall, all of them with the same number, 24.  It took a moment, but Lexa finally realize the connection between the items.

“Clarke?”  Lexa called down the hallway absentmindedly, still peering around at the multitudinous collection of memorabilia; items that surely constituted a lifetime’s worth of collecting.  “Was your dad a big fan of Wild Man Wechadtowski?”

“What’s that?” Clarke suddenly reemerged from the hallway, making her way towards Lexa with a pile of clothing in her arms.”

“Jacob Wechadtowski? Baseball’s Wild Man? You know… Scruffy guy with huge sideburns and a big handlebar-mustache? Played for the Mets?” Lexa paused. “One of the greatest pitchers who ever lived? Died in a freak accident?”  She paused again.  “Any of this sound familiar?”

Lexa searched Clark’s face, though she was met with stoicism rather than recognition. “I was just saying your dad must have been a big fan to have collected all of this stuff.” Lexa gestured at the contents of the apartment.

“Yeah.” Clarke shrugged rolling her eyes as she surveyed the memorabilia.  “Something like that.”  She handed the stack of sweats to Lexa and giving her an apologetic smile.

“These were my ex’s. I hope you don’t mind.”  She pointed to a bathroom of the entryway.  “You can change in there. Towels are on the left if you need them.”

Lexa nodded, accepting the clothes gratefully, and slipping into the bathroom.  Lexa stripped of the wet clothing that clung to her skin, sighing with relief as the cold items were peeled from her body.  She grabbed a towel, and dried her sopping hair, squeezing as much of the rain out of her curls as possible, before dabbing her clammy skin.  Finally, warmed and dry, Lexa slipped on the sweats Clarke had given her, examining them curiously.  Clarke’s ex boyfriend had clearly been quite tall .  Even on Lexa, the pants seemed a bit baggy, as was the sweatshirt, which read “Cal Rugby” across the front.

Lexa collected her wet duds, exiting the bathroom and handing them to a waiting Clarke, who deposited them in the stackable washer by the front door.

Lexa cleared her throat as she watched Clarke shove her own wet clothes into the machine.  “So… Your ex played rugby?”

Clarke nodded, looking over her shoulder at the pitcher, and throwing a few detergent pods into the washer.  “Oh, yeah.  Center, I think.”

“He must have been a big guy.”

Clarke closed the lid of the washing machine and gave Lexa a smug look.  “She was. 5’ 11” to be exact.”

Lexa fought back the urge to do a victory dance at Clarke’s revelation, though Clarke seemed to pick up on Lexa’s excitement, none-the-less.

“Try not to look too pleased there, Champ.”

Lexa smirked.  “That’s the second time you’ve called me that tonight. Should I consider it a term of endearment?  I mean, it’s a little early for pet names but, if I had to pick one for you, I guess I’d go with Cookie.”

Clarke’s frown at the comment only egged Lexa on.  “No?  How about Honey? Sugar-Bear? Boo-boo?”

“You’re not even a little funny.”

“But admit it, I am a little charming.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  “I deeply regret using that particular adjective in my article.  I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps, that I was charming?”  Lexa fought back smirk as she sassed the irritated girl in front of her.

Clarke shook her head, trying her best to look unamused.  “Don’t push your luck, Woods.”  She stuck her tongue out before she turned back to the washer, setting the dial.  “How about you go make yourself comfortable infant of the TV, and I get us those beers?”

Lexa nodded, heading over to the couch, and depositing herself unceremoniously into its soft, enveloping cushions as she began scanning the shelves of the entertainment center for titles.  A moment later Clarke plopped down beside her, handing her a brown, glass bottle.

“I hope an IPA is ok.”

Lexa nodded.  “Perfect.”  She happily accepted the beer from Clarke, taking a long swig, before setting it on her knee.  “Any movie in particular you were thinking of?”

Clarke smiled mischievously, setting her beer on the table in front of them.  “Well…”  She crossed to the entertainment center, searching through the titles before pulling one from the shelves and flashing the case towards Lexa, smirking.  “Field of Dreams?”

Lexa rolled her eyes, slightly irritated at Clarke’s assumption that she’d jump at the chance to watch a sports movie.  “Ugh… I pitched nine innings just a few hour ago.  I’m up for anything as long as it’s not a baseball movie.”

Clarke nodded.  “Well, since you’re my guest, how about you choose?”

The pitcher took another swig of her beer, pushing herself off the couch as Clarke replaced her among the cushions.  Lexa scanned the titles on the shelf carefully, contemplating each one, determined to find something that would be enjoyable, without making her seem predictable.  Finally, her eye caught the perfect title.  She pulled the DVD from the shelf,  and made her way back to the couch, taking a seat, and handing Clarke the box.

The blonde looked at her skeptically, raising an eyebrow in semi shock.  “Casablanca?”

Lexa gave her a triumphant smirk.  “It’s a classic.”

“I know that.  I’m just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

Lexa leaned in toward Clarke, narrowing her eyebrows and furrowing her brow in mock seriously.  “You know Clarke, I’m more then just a great arm, and charming affability.”

“Ugh! That’s it!”

Clarke immediately pounced on Lexa, straddling her and knocking her back against the couch cushions.  The blonde pinning the pitcher down as she began to assault her sides with tickling.”

“Stop! Quoting! My! Article! To! Me! You! Idiot!”

Lexa writhed in the cushions, her eyes screwed shut as she desperately tried to block the onslaught from Clark’s quick and dexterous fingers, which were sending her nervous system into a frenzy.  Lexa was nothing if not severely susceptible to tickling.  It had been her twin’s favorite method of torturing her when they were younger, though having Clarke straddling her waist, rather than Levi, seemed almost worth the torture.  Lexa gasped for air in between hysterical fits of laughter.  Somehow, she managed to grab ahold of Clarke’s forearms, stilling her attacks by pulling them out from under the tiny girl.

“Alright, Clarke! Alright! I give up!”

The tickling ceased, and Lexa breathed a sigh of relief as her nervous system returned to baseline. “No more quoting the article, I promise!”

She opened her eyes, her sense of relief disappearing as she realize how intimate of a position they were in.  Forearms pinned to her sides, Clarke had toppled over, landing squarely on top of Lexa’s chest.  Their bodies were nearly flush, pressed together in a way that made Lexa’s heart begin to race as she stare at the girl on top of her, panting for breath. Clarke’s flushed cheeks radiating an inviting warmth against Lexa’s own, and her golden hair hung haphazardly, endearingly disheveled from the rough housing.  When Clarke licked her lips, Lexa’s brain went completely numb, and she drifted off into fantasies of Clarke’s lips pressed to her own.

“Lexa?”  Clarke’s voice finally brought her back from the abyss.


The brunette snapped back to reality, noticing the strange look Clarke was giving her.

“I said I’ll stop.  You can let go now.”

“Oh, Sorry!”  Lexa released her hold on Clarke’s wrists, letting them drop, unceremoniously, from her grasp.

Clarke grinned shyly, rolling off of Lexa and grabbing the DVD from the floor, where it had been absentmindedly discarded during the melee.

“You’re sure this is the one you want to watch?”

Lexa sat up, settling into the corner of the couch as she pushed her hair out of her face and gathering it behind her head.  “Absolutely.”  She popped a hair band off her wrist and secured the mess of frizzy curls in a loose bun atop her head.  “Its my favorite.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, giving Lexa a questioning smile.  “Is Casablanca really your favorite movie?”

The pitcher nodded.  “Ever since my Pop-Pop forced me watch it with him when I was eight.”

Clarke stared at Lexa, contemplating the character of the girl on her couch extremely seriously.  Finally, she gave a low chucked, shaking her head.  “‘Curiouser and curiouser…’”

When the DVD was finally queued up, Clarke flipped off the living room lights and returned to the couch.  Lexa couldn’t help but notice the generous amount of space that Clarke seemed to leave between them, and worried that their earlier hijinks had turned the blonde girl off in some way.  Not wanting to turn an otherwise comfortable situation awkward, Lexa tried to dismiss the thought, quietly sipping her beer as the opening titles flashed across the screen.  

It took several more beers, but by the time the patrons of Rick’s Cafe had begun to sing “La Marseillaise,” Lexa’s worries were put to rest.  Clarke had begun inching closer to her, and somewhere around the flashback of the Germans invading France, she felt her reach over to pull an old throw blanket from off the back of the couch.

“You cold?”

Lexa smiled timidly, nodding as she sipped her third beer.  “Just a bit.”

Clarke unfolded the blanket, tossing it over Lexa’s body, and sliding under herself a moment later.  “You don’t mind do you? I’m freezing.”

Lexa attempted nonchalance as she looked down at the girl sliding closer to her.  “Um… No, of course not.”

Lexa raised her arm, and allowed Clarke to slide under it, burrowing herself into the crook of the the pitcher’s shoulder as she snuggled between the blanket and the warm body next to her.  A moment later Lexa lowered her arm, pausing before she wrapped it around the body next to her.

“This ok?”

Clarke didn’t answer.  Instead, she gently curled her hand around the brunette’s wrist, pulling it arm until the pitcher’s arm was wrapped over her waist.  Lexa reveled in the feeling of having Clarke cuddled against her.  She tried not to smile too noticeably as she felt the smaller girl yawn, and curl into her just a bit more.

“Just wake me up if I fell asleep on you ok?”

“Sure thing,” Lexa smiled down at her, having no intention whatsoever of following through on the request.

Lexa woke to the sound of the score playing over the rolling end credits.  Through half-lidded eyes, she peered down at the girl tucked into her side, fast asleep, still wrapped securely in her pitching arm.  She squeezed the girl gently, running the pad of her thumb along her torso.


Clarke moaned, curling further into Lexa’s side, though she remained fast asleep.  Lexa tried again, shaking her slightly.


This time there was no response at all.  Loath to wake an exhausted girl, Lexa pulled the blanket back delicately, extricated herself from Clarke with surgical precision.  Stooping down, she carefully slid her arms under shoulders and knees, lifting Clarke off the couch and groaning with the strain of the weight.

“You know for someone so tiny, you’re heavier than you look.”  The statement was barely a whisper, though Lexa was thankful Clarke wasn’t awake to hear it.

Taking great care not to wake the girl in her arms, she made her way slowly down the hallway, toward the glowing light of Clark’s bedroom.  She pushed the door open with her foot, making sure not to jostle Clarke as she maneuvered them through it and made her way to the bed, depositing the sleeping girl, very gently, in the center of the mattress.  She lifting her head and slid a soft pillow underneath, pulling the comforter over her a second later.

Clarke moaned again, turning on her side and pulling the comforter in around her.  Her eyes opened just a crack, as a barely conscious whisper escaped her lips.


Lexa crouched beside the bed, smoothing back the messy blonde hair that cascaded over the reporter’s face.

“Yeah. You’ve been drinking.  I think I probably should.”

Barely awake, Clarke shook her head lazily, managing to get out three more words before curling up tighter, and drifting off again.

“Stay. Just sleep.”

Lexa sighed, fighting herself over what to do.  On one hand, it was only an invitation stay and cuddle, nothing more.  Then again, they’d finish a six pack between them, and she didn’t relish the idea of waking up to a Clarke who might regret the sleep over, or worse still, not remember it.  She sighed, leaning in closer to Clarke  and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea Clarke.”

Clarke was a barely visible nod, but a nod none the less.  The blonde moaned again, turning over to face Lexa and mumbling into the comforter.

“Please… Stay.”

Lexa clenched her jaw, letting her better angels depart her, as she gave in to the blonde’s request, and the allure of the warm bed, and the inviting smell of cinnamon and soap that wafted off of Clarke.

“Ok, but just to sleep.”

Clark nodded again, and Lexa pulled back the covers, slipping underneath them and settling into the pillows.  She made sure to leave a few inches between herself and Clarke, but despite her effort to maintain a respectful distance, Lexa felt Clarke roll into her a moment later.  The reporter pressed her back into the Lexa’s chest, and grasped her wrist, pulling the pitchers toned arm around her shoulders.

“…’s cold.”

Lexa screwed her eyes shut for a moment, overcome with a mixture of incredible contentment and overwhelming nervousness.  Her hear racing like a freight train, Lexa leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to Clarke’s temple.

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

She stared down at for a few moments, happy just to watch the beautiful girl net to her sleeping.  When she was confident that Clarke was completely out, Lexa pushed herself up slightly, reaching to turn out the light on the nightstand.  Her fingers had just grasped the power cord when she noticed a small picture frame, sitting next to the lamp on the bedside table.  A single glance at the frame’s contents, and Lexa’s whole body to froze, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she realized what she was looking at.

The photograph was old, and its color dulling, but the figures in the picture were clear as day.  A tiny blonde girl smiled up at the camera, through the candles of a birthday cake which proudly proclaimed that she was turning five.  Even with frosting on her cheeks, and pigtails instead of neatly groomed trusses, the little girl was instantly recognizable as a young Clarke.  What was shocking was the man who stood just behind her, beaming with pride.  He held five year old Clarke up, his enormous hands wrapped around her waist protectively as she leaned forward, preparing to blow out her candles.  The man was clad in an ringer t-shirt with “World’s Greatest Dad” printed across the chest, and he wore a party hat that had been comically tipped askew on his head.  However, even in the ridiculous outfit, even without his jersey on, there was no doubt who the man was.  There, trademark sideburns and handlebar mustache framing his giant smile, was Jacob “Wild Man” Wechadtowski, one of the greatest pitcher who ever lived.

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Impasto | Chapter One

Author’s Note: @your-miss-right I thank blame you entirely for this inspiration, as well as this post that started it all. Professor Namjoon, everyone. Not sure how many parts yet. Tagging @jinhyong, @park-jimeme who wish to be so.

Genre: Fluff 

→ two




  1. the process or technique of laying on paint or pigment thickly so that it stands out from a surface, to convey high emotion.
  2. a technique of painting unabashedly proud to be textured, existing to show off brush and palette knife marks

Black coffee in one hand and a new leather bag slung over his shoulder, Namjoon’s patent shoes clicked upon the cement pavement as he walked; the blissful autumn morning sun shined upon his skin, basking him in a wonderful warmth. For all intents and purposes, today was beautiful, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

But the nerves that were going haywire inside his brain said otherwise.

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