mens lounge

Mads Mikkelsen with French Comedian, Actor, Director Asto Kross (L) and his Twin Brother at the Roland Garros LeVillage Press/VIP Lounge area as they attend Men’s Final of the 2017 French Tennis Open - Day Fithteen at Roland Garros French Open on June 11, 2017 in Paris, France.

anonymous asked:

bucky is super protective over you when it comes to people and things being vulgar

It was a casual date, but those were the very best kind in your opinion.

You sat across from Bucky, casually sipping your latte and listening intently to the details of some rather unfortunate mishap that happened nearly 70 years ago involving Steve and about a dozen geese. Bucky’s nose crinkled up when he laughed at the memory.

“I feel like I’m doing all the talking.” He laughed.

“It’s a nice change.” You smirked.

“Yeah, you’re usually the one talking my ear off.”

“Yeah whatever, Barnes.”

A laugh was shared between the two of you. It was a game you played, taking shots at one another playfully throughout the day, but it always signified how much you cared about one another.

After another sip of your latte, you excused yourself to use the bathroom.

Bucky watched you leave, a blissful smile on his lips until you disappeared behind the bathroom door. That smile was wiped clean off his face when he heard the comments coming from the men behind him.

“Man, did you see the ass on that one?”

“Yeah, dude, it was a blessing to even fucking get a glimpse.”

“And her tits too! God what a fucking body she had.”

“Yeah I bet this guy over here doesn’t even know how good he has it. I’d kill for a lay like her.”

Bucky had to contain himself and prevent his blood from boiling as he listened in to the not so discrete conversation between the asshats behind him. He knew very well they were talking about you.

Bucky watched you emerge from the bathroom, smiling at him as you made your way back.

“Here she comes again, fuck look at her.”

With his suspicions confirmed, Bucky had to set his mug down to ensure he didn’t shatter it in his left hand.

You, of course, were oblivious to the comments being made, that is until you sat down.

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” You asked Bucky, noticing his change in demeanour.

His jaw was firmly clenched, eyes staring straight ahead. He looked like someone anyone would be crazy to mess with.

“I wonder if she tastes as good as she looks.”

That’s what you heard, and that’s when you knew exactly what was going on.

Appalled by the comment, you looked up at the two men behind Bucky, opening your mouth to say something, before one of them spoke again.

“Can you just imagine how tight her little c-”

“Alright.” Bucky stood up abruptly, turning around to face the two men.

In the lounge chair that he’d been sitting in before, it was clear that these two had no idea just how big Bucky was. You could see the fear in their eyes when they looked at him now.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” he said, “but talking about my girl like that isn’t gonna fly.”

You stood behind him, gently taking his hand in your own.

“Let’s just go, Buck.” You said calmly.

Reluctantly, he let you lead him out of the cafe and back into your shared apartment. As soon as the door shut, you nuzzled yourself into his chest and hugged him tightly.

He kissed your head, “I’m sorry.”

“Why in the world are you apologizing?” You asked.

“I’m sorry that you had to endure that.” He whispered.

“I didn’t really, I had you to protect me.”

You felt him smile against your forehead. Bucky would always be protective over you, and you were always going to be grateful for it no matter what.

Velvet Box (Mafia AU)

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

Summary: Hoseok is kind, charming and friendly, but there are some lies behind the blinding smile of this strip club owner. Jungkook is a mysterious, passionate musician- and don’t you know that you need to sacrifice in order to achieve your dreams… sometimes even your morals?

Genre: Ansgt, Smut, Fluff

Pairings: Reader x Jungkook, Reader x Hoseok

Word count: 5k

Trigger Warnings: Smut, swearing, strippers, criminal activity, thigh riding, oral

“You suspect that whenever he thinks like this, it means your question might have an answer he doesn’t think you’ll like.”

Part 2

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Memory of a Dead Boy- Thomas Shelby

Originally posted by peakypeaky

Request// Hi, I see that you’d like Peaky blinder requests !! Could I have one please where the reader is new to the town and Thomas finds her interesting please ❤️-a-court-of-stydia

Request// If you’re taking requests, I would love something for Peaky Blinders where the reader and Tommy met and fell in love in France during the war (reader as a nurse or doctor or another patient, maybe and they meet in a hospital). Each thinks the other died during the war for some reason, and when reader takes a trip to Birmingham to meet his family/see where he grew up, each is shocked to see the other alive. Cue reunion. Please and thank you!

*Whenever I tend to not know exactly where to go with an idea, I just keep writing and writing. This one took me two hours and over 2,000 word (which is my longest ever). Also update about me: my sister and I are going through all of TW together and I feel like we’re really bonding because of it. I’m trying to get her to join the tumblr fandom community secretly mwhaha! xoxox*


As you exited the train in Birmingham, you couldn’t help but once again question if this was a bad idea. What were you going to tell people when they started asking questions? Admit that you were looking for a dead man? No, it just wasn’t that simple.

You had met him years earlier, when both of you were still children and had yet to be exposed to the horrors of war. You had been a new nurse and were already questioning if you were cut out for caring to wounded soldiers, as the smell of death always lingered amongst them. You knew the smell too well lately and didn’t know if you could ignore it much longer. It had been a shock to you when death had nearly shown himself in the military hospital as a small group of dirty and bloody men were rushed into the room.

“I need nurses over here. Now!” The head nurse roared across the room. You quickly finished wrapping the wound of one of the men nearby and rushed over to the new lot of broken troops.

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Funny Story

When I was 12 and living with my father, he took us to the country club for a Hallowe’en party. The club had converted the men’s dressing rooms and lounge into a haunted ride of sorts.

My father decided to go with me and we both were terribly unimpressed. Like, the decorations were great, but I’ve always been boring in terms of being scared on Hallowe’en. I walked up to houses that kids and teens older than me would not go near because of hanging skeletons and ‘scary music’. I’m weird.

So we’re walking along, just checking it all out and one of the workers dressed as a mummy, jumps out of a darkened doorway. I did not scream. Instead, I elbowed him in the chest and grabbed him by the costume and threw him to the floor. 

And all that was heard through the combined rooms was, “WHAT THE FUCK, GIRL?!”

My father laughed his ass off and I just stared at the dude.

“Why did you do that?”

“It’s part of the ride!”

“Oh. You should be more careful next time.”

And that was it.

The story spread. The staff gave me extra candy at the dance party. Some of them gave me money as well. And for the next few months, ‘Jake’ was not allowed to forget it.

The best part of the whole thing though, was that I was dressed as Snow White.


((Last imagines before I delete this blog. Don’t forget that I’ve moved these to wattpad so it will be easier to post regularly and all that jazz. Edit; obviously I’m a lyer so come check out my imagines.))

Imagine; You wake up to find yourself trapped with two vampires and a hybrid.

You woke up to the sun shining into your room and stretched. When you reached up to stretch you realised it. You did not have a metal headboard in your room. You sat up and took in your surroundings. This is not my house, you thought to yourself with a tightening chest.

You rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the light. What kind of thriller movie intro is this, you thought. You quickly make your way down the hall and then the stairs. Entering a living room you spot three men lounging on two couches and a the last on a single.

All eyes are on you now. Instead of taking in there different facial expressions as they exchanged looks you asked “Where am I.” In a strangely calm tone.

“Well dear it seems we’re trapped in what we call a “prison world”.“ The blonde haired man speaks.

“Also strangely you’re the only one who we don’t know-” he continues.

“How did you end up here.” One asks with an accusing look.

“I thought we agreed-” The man with a buzz cut begins.

“For all we know she-”

“Excuse me.” You slightly yell before taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I could be here for a number of reasons just like the rest of you, but still I have no idea what’s going on and why.”

Although the room falls silent, it feels loud with everyone’s rushed thinking and looks.

“So if anyone has any ideas feel free to tell me.”

lindseyylu17  asked:

This would totally be an AU fic but I would love to see Claire teaching a figure drawing class and Jamie being one of the students draws her.

So this is a bit of a role reversal from what you requested @lindseyylu17, but I’m enjoying it. 

“We have to what?” The entire class exclaimed in disbelief. The professor smirked and relaxed against the lab table.

“All of you heard me just fine. I expect to see the results from this class and Professor Montgomery is already expecting you starting tomorrow night. Don’t worry about supplies, Professor Montgomery says that he’ll have things ready for you each class, just remember to sign in on both of our rosters. This class starts at 8pm sharp tonight! I don’t want to hear about any of you being late!” Doctor Randall looked down at her wrist and waved her hand towards the door dismissing us.

I packed my bag with my head still reeling from what Doctor Randall required, Life Drawing, a class designed to embarrass all of the parties involved. Naked men and woman lounging for hours at a time while a gaggle of students attempted to draw their forms from various angles.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!” I whisper yelled to myself as she made her way across the empty campus. “I can’t take a life drawing class I just… can’t! I can’t draw to save my life! Besides how does life drawing even fit with an anatomy class? I should be learning how to—”

“Talking to yourself again, Claire?”

“Agh!” I swung around nearly hitting my former roommate with her bag.

“Jenny!” I exclaimed clutching a hand to her heart, “you know not to sneak up on me like that!”

Jenny laughed and settled her hands on her hips, “Och aye but that’s the best time to sneak up on ye! What were you ranting to yourself about this time? Did fuddy-duddy Professor Whitman assign another frog dissection?”

Jenny’s strong Scottish accent lilting with each word and I smiled at the familiarity of if. “No, not Whitman…this time.”  

I laughed and Jenny snorted, linking her arm with mine as we made our way to the library.

“So if it wasn’t Whitman who and what did they do to deserve the horrible Beauchamp rant?”

“Doctor Randall. Not the history professor, his wife the biology professor,” I amended quickly. “Doctor Annie Randall, who isn’t even a doctor by the way! She dropped out of her residency and decided to teach Bio 425 and she’s forcing us to go to Life Drawing instead of our lab class for the next two months!”

Jenny’s eyes went wide, not only in shock but in the way I knew she was plotting something. “So ye have to take the life drawing classes this quarter?”

“Ugh! Yes. I really don’t see the point in this class. I’m in biology not art!”

“Quitcher whinging Claire and just go to the damn class. Ye never know what ye might find or should I say who.”


The art room was small, cold, poorly lit and reeked of chemical adhesives. Was this really happening? I kept asking myself. Was I really taking a life drawing class? I groaned thinking of how my time would be better spent studying or in the lab examining specimens, rather in this dank room foolishly facing a class I felt was beneath me. Why art? Why did she have to send us to an art class, what good would this do or bring to us? Artist are careless junkies that will get nowhere in life. This chosen path won’t pay their bills or get them the type of scholarships needed to further pursue a career. I couldn’t fathom their reasons for joining a group that might lead them to ruin.

“Class! Come to order now, please!” The hippie who I assumed was Professor Montgomery said with a clap of his hands.

“Please cease your conversations and begin to find your way to an easel, then position yourself so that you may see the stage unobstructed.”

The so called ‘stage’ was compiled of ratty boxes haphazardly draped with tattered striped cloths and a wicker chair that look as though the weight of a butterfly would cause the fibers to crumble.

“On the easel in front of you, you shall find a fresh pad of newsprint. You have five minutes in a medium of your choice to do a nice warm up sketch of the popcorn kernel I am passing out now.”

“What?” I mumbled to myself as everyone around me pulled out pens, charcoal, pencils and pastels, even my fellow biology classmates had found a tin of pencils and were passing them around to one another.

“Ready?” Professor Montgomery paused, looking around. He pulled a stick from behind his ear and handed it to me. “You may begin!”

With the oddly shaped pencil I paused with it’s point on the paper, not sure how to start. The lumpy, misshapen mass in my hand did not resemble popcorn in the least. The people around me were making wild gestures with their arms, beautiful curves appearing on the easels I could see. Taking a steadying breath I mimicked their motions and had the faintest of curves when the timer went off and we were told to stop.

“Perfect! Now that we’re all warmed up I would like to introduce our first two weeks model.” He swept his hands towards a side door that cracked open slightly. “This is our model’s first time sitting for a life drawing class so please, everyone give the warmest of welcomes to Mr. Alexander Malcolm!”

The model appeared from behind the door clad in a fluffy blue robe. His steps were sluggish and hesitant, I got the feeling he didn’t want to be there as much as I did. He slowly made his way towards the stage, but not climbing into position.

“Mr. Malcolm, if you please.” Professor Montgomery said gesturing towards the boxes.

Mr. Malcolm stared at the professor. From the reactions I could see of my classmates and the professor, the model was challenging him.

“Mind if I work up to disrobing?” A deep and thick Scots accent drifted my way.

“Fine!” Came the angry reply from Professor Montgomery. “But this is for tonight only! I have you for only four sittings and tonight is a shortened class due to first day bullshit! Tomorrow I expect you to be prepared from the moment the class arrives.”

Mr. Malcolm nodded tersely. He kept his head down as he approached the stage and settled himself on the wicker chair, which creaked with his weight.

“Mr. Malcolm will sit in this position for ten minutes, before adjusting to a different pose in a different direction.There will be five different poses, each lasting ten minutes tonight. Typically we do twelve fifteen minutes poses, but tonight we shall adjust! Please capture as much as possible given the circumstances. I want your drawings labeled per pose, with your name on it, and date at the end of the class. Other students use these pads so please try not to be heavy handed. You may begin!”

From my angle all I could see was the bulky collar, the top of his shoulder blades and his shoulder-length curly red hair. I tried to capture the way his shoulders fit the robe and disappeared behind the wicker chair. However, when I looked at the drawing the paper reflected back a mass of scribbles that no matter what way you looked at it, you could not tell what it was meant to be.

I huffed out a breath and tried again, this time focusing on his hair. Again the spirals on the page no more reflected the coils of Mr. Malcolm’s hair than it did the curve of his shoulder. Our time started to dwindle down on this first pose, Professor Montgomery began to adjust a small space heater to point towards the stage. I noticed the model’s shoulders tense and his arm begin to shake.

“Stop! Readjust!”

Mr. Malcolm stood and took a deep breath before untying the front of his robe. The fabric swung to his sides. He turned and began to sit on a block directly in front of me, I finally caught a glimpse of the man I was supposed to study. His muscles were well defined, smattered with freckles and curls of fair blonde and red hairs. They made a trail that lead to a patch of even thicker curls that surrounded, while flaccid, still a very impressive penis. My clinical mind took over, examining his every muscle and curve. The way the skin was stretch taught in areas, and bulged in others. I wondered what activities he must do to maintain the way he looked. Even sitting there wasn’t a roll or wrinkle of fat. His body was the perfect biology project.

“Stop! Readjust!”

I jolted from the sudden exclamation. Looking at my easel, I realized I hadn’t sketched a single line. I had to shake myself out of this. He was just a man. A very well defined, attractive man, but still just a man. Think of him as a patient and this is how you’re to figure out what’s wrong with him! Get your head on the assignment, Beauchamp!

Three more positions followed and with each one Mr. Malcolm slowly became more and more unclothed until finally the robe was laying across the floor out of his reach. My temper rose with each minute. This man was most likely being paid for this, but still he was being put on display in front of complete strangers who are meant to analyze his every feature. I could not understand why he was putting himself through this torture, he was clearly not comfortable no matter how long the class went on and I couldn’t blame him. Not only was he being exploited but the amount of females in the class started to overwhelm even me. These girls shouldn’t be allowed to look at him this way! He wasn’t theirs to oogle and treat like a piece of meat! He’s not yours either, a small voice reminded me. Yet, he felt like he was mine. I felt the need to cover him up and hide his body from sight, to protect him and comfort him….

My internal rant lead to the rapid end of class. I didn’t even hear the final instructions nor did I care I only had two of the required five drawings. I signed, dated, and numbered them before tearing the sheet off of the pad and handing it in. Mr. Malcolm had already disappeared from sight. Slowly I returned my supplies and stared at the door he had appeared from at the start of class. Tomorrow then, I thought and hitched my bag over my shoulder just as the side door squeaked open. The lights were dimmed even further than before and I could just catch the glint of his red hair as he darted out of the classroom.

“There’s the nudest!” A bellowing, familiar, laugh sounded.

“Shut it Ian, or I’ll make ye!”

“Och, come off it Jamie! Ye ken I’m just pullin yer leg! How was it? Did your cock come out to play and make the lassies faint with desire?” The sarcastic tone was cut off by a loud thump. I slipped through the door in time to see none other than Ian Murray rubbing his jaw from where Mr. Malcolm, or Jamie, had hit him. Ian merely laughed more.

“Are ye tellin me there wasn’t a single thing good to come from that class?” Ian’s tone was similar to that of his fiancee’s, sneaky and up to something.

“Nay!” Jamie roared as they made their way to the elevators. “I canna believe ye and my sister dared me and not only dared, but forced me to do this after losing a bet! There isn’t enough money in the world to make me want to come back tomorrow night! It’s definitely not worth the sixty pounds they’re paying me!”

Ian had his arm around Jamie’s shoulder as the two of them entered the elevator. As Jamie/Mr. Malcolm turned around we made eye contact, maybe the first of the night, but his eyes went wide. He was saying something to Ian but I couldn’t hear nor make it out as the doors shut and I was left alone on the abandoned art floor.


The Nectar

By: @bioniczex


Welcome to The Nectar, the best place in New-Crest, to relax and have a few drinks with some coworkers after a business meeting, or plan a wedding rehearsal dinner. Your sims will always have a great time. So sit back, relax.and enjoy.

This Lot Has

- Mens/Womens BathRooms

-  Lounge Areas

- One 1 Kitchen

- Outdoor Dining

How To Download?

Go into the gallery and search for my Origin Name: MarkDaii1993

Thanks For Downloading !! ^-^

And Don’t Forget To Share ! <3


The Legendary Warrior

I wanted to try my hand at GoT Imagines but I didn’t know what the fuck to write, lmao. This is shit, I know, but I’ll do another one later! 

Imagine: Being one of the fiercest warriors in the kingdoms and everyone vying to get your alliance. Rob’s men managed to find you and now you stand in front of the Young Wolf.

Originally posted by historyvikings

You had no interest in wars. Here, you stood in front of the King of the North. The Young Wolf as they call him also. You do not deny his rugged more Tully than Stark looks. His dark brown curls fall in his sharp face. His kindly eyes are gleaming at you with a look that irritates you. It is a look as if he has won the damn war. A war you care shit for.

You only came to humor him. You and your loyal men were making way from the South to the North…to the Wall where the real war would happen—the only war you cared about fighting in. You cared not for the petty squabbles over a damned iron throne.

The Young Wolf looked extremely pleased to see you. In his Royal tent stood before you other Lords you didn’t care for and the Young Wolf’s mother—Catelyn Stark was beside her Kingly son looking as hopeful as the Young wolf. It did bring you pain to know that you would crush their hopes with your next words. You will not deny that they have lost a great deal and have been put in a terrible situation but their problems were shit compared to what would come this winter.

“Well?” Robb persisted getting a bit annoyed at your prolonged silence.

You stared at this man with interest, “I care not for your war,” Your words were sharper then any sword in the tent and colder then any winter that has passed. Immediately there are men on their feet yelling at you for your disrespect but you fear them not. Robb is stunned by your words and utterly confused. You cared not for this war? You cared not for the people of this land?

“I give you my sincere condolences’, truly, but I am not here to fight your war or anyone’s war. There is a reason why I have no interest in an alliance with anyone. Stannis made the mistake of thinking he could force me into one and almost paid with his life. Renly was smart enough to respect my choice,” You say indifferently taking note of the hands resting on hilts of swords but you are not afraid, “There is a war that I will fight in and that is the war of the dead that comes when the first white winds blow, Young Wolf.”

Catelyn is bristling in anger and she is the one to speak, “How dare you speak such disgraceful words?” She spits and it is then that you understand why people are fearful of Catelyn Stark. Her eyes were hard enough to cut through Valyrian Steel.

“Your grace,” You respectfully say to the grieving widow, “I speak only the truth. While you all fret over a war that has been repeated before, there is a war that would make this one seem like child’s play. All your work will be for naught if the white walkers succeed in coming over that Wall.” You hold any remorse for your words and you show it well.

“You are not sane!” It is Robb who speaks angrily as he stands, his men get even more aggressive with their postures and words, “We fight for our freedom. We fight to bring home my sisters! We fight to get rid of those damn Southerners!” He is taller then you expected despite being younger then you and he is in your face seething in rage.

You remain cool and unaffected, “Like I previously stated, Young wolf, all this fighting for freedom is for naught if the white walkers succeed in their advance.” You looked at this young man clearly, “I am not some sword for hire. My answer is no.”

Robb growls making a movement to grab you but you remain calmly in your place and say with boredom, “By all means, make the same damn mistake that Stannis did. I went easy on that bastard but I won’t be so forgiving on you. Let me remind you that the title I have, I have earned for a reason. Although, I’m not sure you have earned your title, Little King.”

The murder on the Young Wolf’s face is clear. His direwolf—Grey Wind, was it? His wolf is snarling and snapping his teeth demanding to taste your flesh. The direwolf is no worry to you. As strong as the creatures were, an easy swipe at his neck and the mutt would bleed out in seconds.

“It was an honor,” You remark unaffected by the hostility in the tent, “But I have somewhere else to be. I give you my best in this war, Little King. If you somehow survive this war, you might live long enough to see how wrong you were and how right I was and then you will die from the foolishness this kingdom has made.”

You weren’t eager to travel through the night but thanks to these fools, you would have to, to make up time lost from entertaining the Stark army. You mockingly curtsy and leave the tent. “Leave her!” Robb growls knowing that you alone could take out every Lord in the tent without breaking a sweat.

You smirk as you walk outside in the fading sunlight. Your men lazily lounging about looking bored out of their minds. They immediately stand once they see you. The horses were at the edge of this camp. “Y/N?” Your best friend and right hand man asks with a knowing smirk.

You waste no time, “We have much land to cover and little time, let us make haste.” Your men follow your lead but the call of your name stops you.

It was the Young Wolf.

You turn to gaze at him curiously, “What is it you want, Little King?”

He looks visibly upset, “Have you no care for the family we have lost?”

Your answer is immediate, “Of course I do, Little King. I am not heartless woman. I have tasted loss—in fact I have no family but the men at my side. I have lost my entire family and I have been raped by many men but I am here fighting in a war that does matter. You are not the only man to have lost something due to another. Revenge will come to those who have wronged you but this war was never the answer.” You say with a quiet darkness that has Robb Stark looking at you in a new light.

“The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years.” He states flatly.

“Aye, plenty of time to re-populate and plan out an invasion, don’t you think?” You countered before turning your back and resuming your true journey. “I’ll tell your bastard brother you said hello.” You add over your shoulder with a snicker.

“All we need is for the Lannisters to capture us.” Snickered one of your men.

“Please, don’t jinx it.” You sigh. You had your full on Kings.

Originally posted by historyvikings

Neighbours - Part Ten: Tommy Shelby

The Introductions

Part One | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven |

- Warning for racist comments -

My mother returns from America full of stories and gifts, her face bright and excited while father and I sit opposite her nodding along.

“So Georgiana, is there anything new with you?” she says, finally turning to me, her perfect eyebrows raised. I know what she’s really asking, ‘have you found yourself a man’ and my blood boils.

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The Guardian from Afar

Member: Rap Monster // BTS

Main Plot: They have to get the money before their family can suffer.

Short Summary: A leader was supposed the most composed figure in a gang, meanwhile NamJoon had long since lost his cool.

A/N: Took me like forever to write this. Sorry, @kawaii-hedgehog, but I still hope you’ll find this as enjoyable as the previous ones xD

Words: 2.3k

/ SeokJin // YoonGi // HoSeok // NamJoon // JiMin // TaeHyung // JeongGuk /

“NamJoon, wouldn’t it be a great thing to have an invisible red tie of fate with the person you are destined to be with; to know that somewhere in this world, there is someone out there, waiting for you just as you wait for them?” her sleepy voice asked as she was hunched over, supposedly studying.

“In a romantic perspective, sure, but in reality, it would only hurt you more at the end.”  He answered curtly, shutting his book and sending her a fleeting glance. “Why? Thinking about marriage already?” it was a childish jab at her, the kind that they always played upon each-other, only this time there was silence as his reply. “Wait, seriously?” his eyes widened in shock, and his heart swelled with pain. “Aren’t you a little bit too young for that?”

She sighed disdainfully and pushed off her `Psychology on the human behaviour` books to the side. “I have one too many debts nowadays; can’t keep up with them, either. Marriage seems like the only way out of this mess, you know?”

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Through space and Time (Part one)

There has always been four of you, however when Sam left for Stanford you went with him, leaving Dean and Katie to continue hunting. “Where will you go?” Sam asks you once the two of you are far enough away from the motel.

“London… I want to stay out of this life for as long as possible.” You reply. “I already have my passport and everything.” Sam looks a little surprised but doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead he says: “Promise me that you will look after yourself and please text me when you get there.”

“Of course Sammy.” Before the two of you go your separate ways, your older brother pulls you into a hug and kisses your forehead. As you’re walking you look over your shoulder once watching Sam’s receding form. The song Separate Ways by Journey gets stuck in your head as you head to the airport.

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Red - Calum Hood Smut

Pairing: Calum and Y/N

Word Count: 6.5k+

Rating: Smutilicious

Requested: Nah

Take a trip back with me with the 1920’s, old sport, I kind of enjoyed writing this.

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The Fox and the Hounds Pt. 2 [D.O. Gang!AU Angst/Fluff]

Originally posted by kyvngsoo

1 || 2

Even as the hits continued to rain on your already bloodied, bruised, and weakened form, the only thing you could focus on was your memories of Kyungsoo. His eyes, his nose, the way his lips curved into a smile that could only be seen in private, and finally, how you would never get to tell him you loved him.

It had been a month since he had pulled you from the back room of a sporting goods store back to his mansion after you ran. A month in which you imagined you would be getting nothing but hell. You did flee from him, after all.

But instead, you fell in love.

After he rolled off of you, spent from fucking you into his plush mattress, you fell asleep, only to be woken by crying a few hours later. You rose from your slumber, stretching your sore muscles, and saw Kyungsoo sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, crying into his hands.

That was the night you realized that the man you had been married to out of business, and not choice, had feelings. The gang leader that could make men twice his size cower with a look, was crying because you had left him. After confronting him, he revealed how scared he was when you left, how broken he felt in the few hours it was that you had been gone. How he loved you.

You couldn’t tell him you felt the same way, not yet, but you did promise him you would give him another chance. You would try to love the man you used to believe your captor.

And you succeeded.

Even though Kyungsoo was off taking care of his illicit business much of the time, he would always make time for you, making you understand how important you were to him. You began returning his kisses, initiating contact, trying to show him he was getting through to you.

Then came his business trip.

Kyungsoo had to go overseas to oversee a large business merger, and he had to go for a week. Without you. He was pained at the thought, but he had to do what was necessary. So he left you with an empty mansion, save the small army of security guards he had hired since before you were married.

How foolish of him.

It hadn’t even been a full day after his departure that the gang he was supposed to be dealing with in another country ruined the stillness.

You were brooding about the loss of contact with Kyungsoo for the next week in the kitchen when you heard the shots. Jumping up from your spot at the counter, you ran to where you knew Kyungsoo stored weapons, snagging a handgun and preparing for the worst, which was very likely, judging by the sounds of all out warfare outside.

Remembering Kyungsoo’s instructions to head to the panic room should anything happen, you had only made it a few steps when your bodyguards, hand picked by your husband, entered the room you were in, shouting instructions to come with them. You had slid a step forward in their direction when shots rang out, inside instead of outside this time, and each of the bodyguards slumped to the ground.

A man walked in, holding a handgun straight out and aimed at you. So, you reacted instinctively. You raised your gun in both hands and squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times.

The man, now with three holes in his left chest, looked at you in surprise before falling to the ground next to where your bodyguards lay in varying stages of dying and dead.

You had no time to concern yourself with what you had done. You ran without direction, the sound of gunshots surrounding you and deafening you. Deafening you so much that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until it was too late.

A body slammed you into the wall and into a glass vase, the shards embedding themselves in your side, adding your crimson blood to the spatters of it that already stained your home like a grotesque form of modern art.

Having collapsed to the ground from the impact, you blinked up hazily at a black-masked attacker. As soon as your eyes made contact, he dropped to your level and pressed a cloth that smelled heavily of chemicals into your gasping face. In shock, you breathed in, inviting a rush of chemicals and darkness into your head.

When a headache that felt like a hammer being driven into your skull woke you, you were tied to a chair in the center of a dingy room. Several men lounged against the walls, until one noticed you had risen. He nudged the man next to him, who knelt in front of you and began to ask you a series of questions you had no answers to.

You tried to speak, to tell them that you had no idea what they were talking about, but your tongue was leaden in your dry mouth. When you did manage a slightly coherent answer, that was when they struck you first. The hits just kept coming, making your body ache more than it had from the lacerations before.

Their fists and knives painted your body mottled black, blue, and red, and there was nothing you could do but pray that Kyungsoo would make it back from his business trip and come to save you. But as your mind blacked out again and again to shelter you from the pain that had become as familiar to you as your heartbeat, you began to doubt it. He would’ve come back for you by now, right? You hadn’t been able to keep track of time, but he had to acknowledge what had happened at the mansion.

Unless he was dead.

Even now, as pain flamed through every fiber of your being as a knife was driven into your thigh, your concern went to Kyungsoo. No matter what, he had to live on. You wouldn’t be able to survive without him.

That thought scared you more than the blood that was now gushing from your thigh, coating your legs a sticky, warm red. It was the truth; you wouldn’t manage to go on without him. Why?

You loved him. And watching the flow of blood from your thigh start to weaken, you knew you would never get to tell him. This was it for you. Only four months with the man you loved, and that was it.

Goodbye, Kyungsoo. I love you, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for your end, as a man approached with a gun this time, looking hungry for blood. Yours.

But your husband wouldn’t just leave you like that.

Dimly, through the fugue of pain clouding your mind, you heard gunfire in the space outside your room, combined with a familiar voice shouting furiously, “Where is she?!”

Your eyes snapped open, focusing on the door to your room, which was shaking as if someone was being thrown against it. The man in front of  you who originally seemed intent on ending you, now stood in front of you, gun drawn and waiting for whoever was at the door to step in.

As a last prayer to whatever deities were out there, you screamed Kyungsoo’s name. The banging on the door increased in ferocity, until it burst inwards. In front of you, the man fired twice without you getting to see who was there. Again you screamed, fearing for Kyungsoo’s life.

More shots sounded, but this time from whoever entered the room, landing in your captor’s flesh and causing him to topple so you could see your savior.

Standing like a prince of hell holding a gun in one hand and the body of a bleeding man in front of him, Kyungsoo had finally arrived to save you. Upon seeing you, the expression of murder flipped into that of the utmost concern, and he dropped the body of the man that he had been using as a shield, tucking his gun into his pants as he ran for you. Gently, he took your cheeks into his hands and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, locking eyes with yours, which were drooping by the second.

“Y/N?! Y/N, darling, you need to stay with me just a bit longer, I’m going to get you out of here and into a hospital, please, I need you,” he muttered urgently, severing your bonds and lifting your body into his arms as you slumped forward.

In his arms, you smiled. You were home at last, safe in his arms. “Kyungsoo…” you rasped, weakly locking your arms around his neck. “I…love you.”

A ghost of a smile flashed over his face, but then he was moving out to the hall, too fast for your head to keep up with. Unconscious again, your head fell against his shoulder and your arms dropped from his neck. But you were safe in your husband’s arms and you had said what you needed, even if you were injured. He wouldn’t let harm come to you.

All was well.

!!!! I can’t do fluff very well, so I did more of the sorta than the romance in your request. Why is it so many of my fics involve passing out?

-Admin A