mostly vodka

the fuckboy scheme

◇ You’ve just waged war on renowned fuckboy Jeon Jungkook.

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fuckboi!au + college!au

tfs 2

◇ based off unforgettable by french montana even tho he’s trash just because i could lol

◇ ahsjksks I’m not dead my dudes don’t worry im just studying which is the same thing but!!! Anyway i made this because of procrastination so don’t expect another one right away lol ❤️❤️❤️💟💖💖


You were proud to say that college wasn’t kicking your ass as much as it probably could. You finished three of your four essays due, completed a project that was 35% of your final grade, and managed to study for at least 10 minutes in the passed week.

And now, here you lay, your laptop perched on the bed in front of you with Netflix pulled up in the screen and a large bag of Doritos beside you. Your well-earned reward — and you’re enjoying it, too. Well, until—

“Hey!” The bubbly brunette you fondly called your roommate plummets onto your bed before you register her presence, and the presence of her red headed girlfriend who trails in after. “Guess what?”

“You and Rose decided to take a spontaneous trip to Hawaii and leave me to watch Luke Cage?” You try with a wishful smile, knowing damn well what she was about to propose as soon as she pulled up her Twitter. “A party? Really?”

“Yes!” Jennie grins brightly, shoving the screen in your face. A tweet from the man himself, Jackson Wang, is on the screen, and you barely catch the words party and insane before she yanks it back. “Jackson is throwing another party this Friday and since there’s nothing too important coming up, I demand that you attend—”

“I don’t think so,” you laugh in disbelief, turning back to your relaxing setup. “No more parties for me—”

“Oh, come on,” Jennie’s face drops as she groans, slumping her body over your back dramatically — it was times like this that her fine arts major really came out. “The last party you went to was weeks ago! The last guy that you slept with was ages ago and it was terrible and it’s making you cranky—”

“I am not cranky!” You interrupt in indignation, eyes wide. At the pointed look that’s shot at you from both girls, you deflate. “That guy wasn’t that bad. What’s your point?”

“Our point,” Rose speaks with a furrow of her eyebrows, “is that since you slept with You-Know-Who—” Her eyes narrow warningly when your mouth opens to make a Voldemort joke— “You’ve been in a slump. And it’s making you angry at everything.”

“So you think I should go to a party to get wasted and fuck someone?” You retort, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to get wasted,” Jennie whines, tugging at your arm. “Look, me and Rose are going too. We’ll stay with you until you get some nice piece of meat to play with—”


“And then you can be happy and we’ll be happy because you’re happy!” She concludes with a cheeky grin.

You ponder her offer, swimming between whether or not you should listen to your ultracrepidarian best friend. Your hesitance shows obviously on your face, and Jennie pouts. “Please? I haven’t been to a party with my best friend in weeks—”

You sigh, pulling your arms from your grip and wriggling your body to roll Jennie off of your back. “Whatever, whatever. Can I watch this in peace now?”

Squeals and whatnot ensue, but you can only roll your eyes and push your earphones in further, grabbing another handful of Doritos.


Nothing had ever irritated Jeon Jungkook as much as this particular thing was.

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back that azz up

Title: Back That Azz Up
Pairing: Tyler Joseph/Reader
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Lots of daddy kink, dirty talk, public-ish setting, wedding stuff.
A/N: I wanted this to be a drabble, but then it started to turn into a full fic, so I guess it’s kind of in the middle, like 3.6k words. But I’m gonna try to work on some Josh stuff next, because I’ve been neglecting him, whoops.

Originally posted by modestmartian

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anonymous asked:

High school AU spin the bottle??

Okay Nonny, seriously, I LOVE YOU and I legitimately want to write like 50000 words of Bucky and Clint desperately pining and aggressively flirting and they both think the other is SO COOL and shoving match excuses to touch and silent glaring detentions and Bucky finding out about Clint’s crappy home life and Clint certain that there’s no way Bucky and Rogers are just friends and and and


But here is a snippet, anyway, which is almost (but not quite) entirely unlike what you wanted, sorry XD


“Tasha,” Clint says, taking his eyes off the water bottles he’s juggling for a second, “Tash, throw me a-”

The noise as the bottles crash to the floor is loud enough to grab those few who’s attention he hadn’t already claimed for himself, but Clint doesn’t have time to revel in it - Bucky Barnes is heading his way, rolled up sleeves and heavy black boots and the inescapable march of death, seriously, and Clint swears loudly and vaults over the table behind him. His hand skids in a puddle of something he’d rather not know about, screwing his balance and sending him careening helplessly off the side of the lunch table, his shoulder painfully catching on the bench on his way to the floor.

If life’s taught him anything, though, it’s that staying put to take it like a man does not a goddamn thing to make the punishment any easier. He’s up and running before Bucky’s rounded the squealing cheerleader whose lunch Clint had taken down with him, and for about ten blissful seconds Clint’s sure he’s made it, he’s escaped, he’s free…

Then he’s hauled abruptly backwards by the hood on his sweater, pulled fast enough he can barely keep his feet, dragged into the bathroom and pushed up against the door.

“Hey,” he says, tries on a grin, wilts in the face of Bucky’s… face.

“What. The. Hell,” Bucky grinds out, and Clint briefly regrets every choice that’s brought him to this point.

Mostly the vodka at the party the week before. Mostly the vodka, and his friendship with Nat.

“Um,” Clint fumbles.

“You can juggle,” Bucky says. Flat.

This is a left turn from where Clint thought this conversation was going. He was expecting - he’s not sure. Something more violent, more insults, a sprinkle of homophobia maybe. Expecting some kind of revenge for the quick brush of drunk lips, the exchange of alcohol-laced breath.

“I can juggle,” Clint confirms.

“Great aim, too,” and the anger just doesn’t fit with the compliments, and Clint is confused. He nods warily.

“Bet you could make that bottle go any place you wanted, huh?” Bucky’s got his arm braced against Clint’s chest now, pushing him back against the door, pushing their bodies closer together. He’s glaring fiercely at Clint, but Clint’s never had much of a self preservation instinct and he can’t do anything to stop his eyes sliding down to catch on Bucky’s mouth.

“Fucking punk,” Bucky growls, and presses forward hard, his teeth catching on Clint’s lower lip as their mouths crush together. If it’s supposed to be a punishment it’s falling kinda short, and Clint whines in the back of his throat, trying to arch forward for more. Bucky pulls away, mouth wet and eyes dark, looking lost and a little confused for all of a second before he pushes Clint out of the way of the door.

“Don’t fuck with me again,” he says, not looking at Clint, and shoves back out into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind him.

how to make a martini

put a couple cubes in the intended (martini)glass & fill with water to chill

fill a pint glass with ice to the top

choose liquors based on your intended flavor: is it mostly gin/vodka/combine things with a splash here & there if you’re feelin lucky

pour the overriding flavor to about a lil halfway up the pint glass, the rest (accenting flavors) lil dashes

squeeze some fresh citrus in there: lime/lemon/orange

(if you really want a citrus forward drink, use some zest)

finish with a dash of vermouth or lil bitters (or olive juice if that’s your thing)

it should end up to be about ¾ an inch away from the very top of the pint glass

shake it, empty martini glass of the chillin water, pour

anonymous asked:

Hi! Do you know like any fun facts about Bloo? I'm so in love with him, he's such a qtp❤

Fun facts, let’s see…
these are mostly from various lives and interviews, but some might be outdated (or not true at all, because who knows what they’ve been telling us—)

— He said he was born in Korea, but lived in California for over 10 years. His grandparents have a farm (or something similar) in the south of Korea.
— He’s not a big fan of his height, but swears he’s taller than 168cm ;) [~170-172cm to our knowledge]
— He doesn’t really like Soju or Vodka; mostly he drinks wine, beer and whiskey
— He used to live with family in Seoul (?)
— He has a younger sister, who he obviously adores
— He loves dogs (obviously)
— He loves the TV shows Skins and Peaky Blinders. He watches anime.
— His “ideal type” includes Kaya Scodelario and Kristen Stewart
— He also likes Jenny from Black Pink
— Currently he has 8 tattoos (I think…)

That’s everything I can think of from the top of my head for now (:

- Admin K

Vertical sleeve gastrectomy - 4months post op

Okay so I am a little more than four months post op and I know I’ve been posting some progress pix but I guess I haven’t talked much about my experiences. I think a big part of that is because 1. I talk to a group of girls on whatsapp so we’re constantly talking about experiences and 2. I feel like my life is pretty much …normal? So I guess I don’t have much to say. But I mean there has been major changes and shit I’ve learned so I will randomly name a few in this post based on personal experiences. Tips, tricks, notes to self, etc.

- I can eat more now than the first month post op. There are less gas pains and I also eat pretty much normal speed.

-I still cannot drink and eat at the same time. I know most people can’t but I also know some people who can.

-the hair loss is real

-fruit smoothies from places at the mall will likely make you shit yourself

-milk…. Shit yourself

-store bought coffee that contains milk…. Surprisingly not shit yourself! Yay

-soup that has chunks of food in it… Practically like eating and drinking at the same time and doesn’t work out too well. Same for cereal. I just get a lot of gas moving around and it’s not worth it

-some days I can eat a good amount and others I can take three bites and be stuffed. Very annoying when you’re eating something tasty

-the hair loss is fuckin REALLLLL

-some people around you will try to be the food police

-other people around you will offer you bad food all the time… Don’t know why

-my boobs are gone. RIP

-my stretch marks seem more noticeable

-I keep having to buy new clothes


-take your fuckin vitamins JASMINE YOU LAZY ASS

-this surgery doesn’t change your mind set about food. If you tended to eat junk food, eat late at night, eat out a lot before surgery… You still have to consciously make those decisions every single day not to go back to those ways.

-I sadly did NOT turn into a light weight. I still need to drink a LOT to get drunk just like before surgery. I now mostly drink wine and vodka

-can’t drink beer or soda. Allllll those fuckin bubbles

-my back and feet hurt way less than they used to

-I went from being able to jog one minute to seven minutes. Still working on this

-start exercising as soon as you can so when the weight loss slows down you still have something that is going to help your body change

-most people won’t have a negative reaction when you tell them about surgery but some people will be like “be careful because I know someone who DIEEEEED!” 😒

-my boobs are seriously fuckin sad

-I feel that staying hydrated is hard especially since you’re not supposed to drink before and after you eat so you have to be extra mindful of it all day every day

-the first time you eat pizza after surgery don’t eat too fast or too much because you will barf you idiot :)

-sometimes when people take candid pictures of me now and show them to me I don’t want to die so that’s reallly cool

-I thought this surgery would motivate me to learn how to cook and it has not. Stilllllll not wifey material. Oh well don’t care

-don’t be afraid to not order a drink at restaurant. I always say water and then I have a giant cup of water sitting there the whole time and like we’re in a draught. #california

-I don’t recommend taking shots #peerpressure

-sell your old clothes to buy new clothes!

-“your hair is everyyyywhere… SCREAMING INFIDELITIES” - only tru emo kids will know

-you will notice that your body is different than it used to be but you might still feel as big as you used to be. Like you might look at a space and think “I can’t fit there” but you probably can.

-the weight loss is fuckin random. Some weeks I lose 5lb!!! Some weeks I don’t lose anything for two weeks! Only baby Jesus knows

-don’t become obsessed with the scale. I think weighing yourself every day will fuck with your mind. I think once a week at most

-my body is very squishy now. Weird thing to say I know

-I’m not constantly sweating for everything I do!! Cool

-your stomach doesn’t care where the fuck you are it WILL scream the music of its people at any time, any place, in front of anyone

Lastly I just wanna say to myself and to others going through this journey - stay focused. As soon as you become lax on your eating and exercise it is so easy to go back to old ways. Have someone help you be accountable. The surgery doesn’t change how your mind works. It just makes you get full faster. You still have to watch what you are putting into your body. You still have to be active. Listen to your body and work on your mind. Eating badly/over eating will ALWAYS be a struggle for me for the rest of my life. It is something that I have dealt with since a very young age and it’s not something that will just go away. Do your best and don’t give up. If you have questions/need some support follow @thiqgirlsquad on Instagram.


Jean Grey x Reader

A/N: I listened to Lauren Aquilina’s cover of Sex by the 1975 and it broke my heart and I avoided about a million other things to write this but oh well, I’m in the weirdest mood right now and this worked for me so w/e also I love Jean Grey with all my heart and soul @madithewriter pls suffer with me

You’re both more than a little tipsy the first time Jean kisses you, but that doesn’t make it any less electric. Her lips are soft and sweet and unfamiliar on yours and it feels like something in you is igniting as her hand rests lightly against your neck, and maybe it’s mostly the vodka, but her closeness is dizzying and nothing else in the world matters to you right now. All you can do is softly cradle her face in your hands and kiss her back, and you know you shouldn’t; she has a boyfriend, she’s your best friend, you shouldn’t. But you are. She’s holding you and you’re kissing her and oh god do you want her.

You don’t talk about it the next morning.

The second time she kisses you, it’s late on a Tuesday night and you’re supposed to be studying for a history exam but she abruptly stands up from your desk chair and grabs the notes from your hands, dropping them carelessly beside the bed and deliberately crawling up beside you where you’re sprawled across the covers, her hand sliding up your shoulder and tugging you up by the back of your neck. She kisses you and everything else falls away as her mouth moves insistently against yours, her long red hair hanging down around you and as you tentatively reach for the buttons of her shirt, you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than her small, inviting smile and wide eyes as she tugs gently at the hem of your skirt, as if asking permission.

You wake up the next morning and the bed beside you is still warm, but she’s on her feet, pulling her shirt over her head, her books already in a tidy pile on the corner of your desk. She leans down and kisses you quickly before grabbing her things and leaving your room and you both pretend nothing happened.

When you see her with Scott later you have to look away, throat inexplicably tight.  

You kiss her the next time it happens. She’s lying back on her bed and she’s tired and angry over something she won’t tell you about, so instead of trying to talk to her, you tentatively lean over and brush your lips cautiously against hers. She reaches up to hook an arm around your neck, hauling your body down against hers as she kisses you back, hard and demanding, and all you’re aware of is the way she feels under you as you wedge one of your knees between hers. Your hands are a little shaky as you gently pull her shirt off, but hers are steady and nimble as she tugs yours up over your head and undoes the clasp of your bra before sliding a hand up the slope of your back to the nape of your neck and tugging your lips back down to hers. Her body is warm and pliant beneath yours and somewhere in the back of your mind you know this is wrong. She isn’t yours, no matter how much you try and pretend she is, and doing this isn’t going to make Scott disappear. But you’re selfish, and if this is the only way you get to be with her then you’ll take what you can get, so you push the insidious voice of reason away and you try to focus only on the soft sighs she’s emitting as she writhes beneath you.

You try to leave later that night, but she sleepily wraps herself around you and so you lie awake listening to her slow, even breathing and trying not to think about how head over heels you are for her and how badly this is going to end for you.

You have lunch with her and Scott the next day, and pretend not to care that she’s wearing your shirt while she kisses him.

After a while, you stop trying to pretend that you don’t go to each other for sex. You stop pretending to yourself that you don’t use it just for the temporary closeness it gives you and you stop pretending to yourself that you don’t know that what the two of you are doing is wrong. It’s not fair to Scott, but you’ve never claimed to be a good person and you’ve never had any self-control when it comes to Jean, and if the whole arrangement weren’t so fucked up, you might almost call it love. You watch her grab her shirt from off your floor and pull it over her head, leaning down to press a kiss to your collarbone before leaving, and when you’re alone you wonder if you’re ever going to be able to find a way out of this at all, let alone one that doesn’t leave you in pieces.

This isn’t love. She has a boyfriend. This isn’t love.  

You know you’ll keep sleeping with her anyway.

Truth or Dare

Audrey X Reader

Setting: Brooke throwing a party post season 1. 

AN: Had to put this into two parts due to it being too long. Second part posted later on tonight. This is my first Audrey Jensen imagine/readerXcharacter fic.

You can find my other Scream fics in a link on my profile under “Scream fics”.

Recommended music to listen to:

Inside out - The Chainsmokers ft. Charlee  

Originally posted by jackiehydes

You were are at another one of Brooke’s parties that she threw when she needed a distraction away from her father and from the deaths in Lakewood. Her father was never home and basically allowed her to get away with anything especially after the death of her friends. There was beer, liquor and pizza and at some point someone would end up suggesting some sort of game to turn things interesting. Of course you would go to the parties, you never left the Lakewood 6’s side, it was like you all formed a pack and needed to know where everyone was at all times. It had turned into a pack.
Yeah all of you were there, Brooke, Emma, Jake, Noah, Kieran, Audrey and you. Even Zoe, Stavo and Kieran’s questionable cousin were there. You got along with pretty much anyone in the group save for Audrey, she was a girl full of suspicion and seemed to always be on edge. Those glaring side eye looks and long zoning out stares always made you question what she was thinking about. And you had no doubt she was thinking about something. Even forced into being her friend or around her you kept that ear of suspicion open. And it wasn’t like she treated you like a friend either, always got into petty cat fights when forced to work together investing the murders, never new who’s idea to take or utilize to get the job done. There would be a snarky remark here or a snappy response there. It was almost a competition to see who was the most brooding.

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anonymous asked:

What kind of alcohol does each hero like? (If you can't do all of them then just do Junkrat, McCree, Genji, Pharah, Zarya, and Hanzo. It would be rad if you did all of them tho)

Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes - Junkrat, being a proper Aussie, is a big fan of beer when he can get his grubby little hands on it. Roadhog thinks it’s too bitter but Junky loves a bit of the grog.

Genji Shimada - In his super fun playboy youth he was a big fan of ordering those enormous bottles of vodka, mostly just to show off his money to the assembled throng of men and women.

Jesse McCree - He’s one of those bourbon people, you know the ones, they talk about the smokiness of it and the depth of flavour and is really ridiculously attached to one brand. Reaper thinks he’s ridiculous.

Fareeha ‘Pharah’ Amari - she and her mother share a particular taste for absinthe, when it’s prepared properly with the water and sugar cubes and fancy silver spoons. They have a monthly mother-daughter date where they meet up, get drunk on expensive alcohol, and talk shit about everyone else. It’s very cathartic.

Aleksandra 'Zarya’ Zaryanova - Actyally doesn’t drink! She doesn’t like feeling drunk and hangovers are the bane of her life; she likes to get up early and train and make all the hungover agents around her feel jealous.

Hanzo Shimada - he’s a Corona fam. Unlike Junkrat, he likes his beer fizzy, cold, and served with a wedge of lime.

Mako 'Roadhog’ Rutledge - Does this drink come with a glacé cherry and a little umbrella? Yes? Good. He’ll have 12 of it.

Amelie 'Widowmaker’ Lacroix - [insert that French spider comic here]

mcgnetowcsright  asked:

since requests are open,,,,,,,,, i want a warren angstt that ends fluffy,,,,, something about bad break ups because of a misunderstanding + getting back together after being messes? (idk why but i'm thinking abt closer by the Chainsmokers and halsey)

A/N: @emmcfrxst this was actually really nice to write and also it got long bc I have zero self control and I love Warren and his level 500 feelings so much @kurtwxgners @rax-writes pls suffer with me

“Stop fucking lying. You don’t know how I feel, so stop telling me you do. I don’t want your fucking pity.” Warren’s voice is low and mutinous, and his knuckles are white around the mostly empty bottle of vodka clutched in his hand.

“Then tell me,” you snap, hands balled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you try and fight down the lump in your throat. “Goddamn it, fucking talk to me Warren. I’m fucking trying here, but you’re not exactly making this easy. You shut me out and then apologize and then disappear and show up almost two days later, blind fucking drunk. Tell me what to do, because I’m tired of just blindly grasping at straws in an attempt to make this entire shitshow of a relationship work.”

“Then stop trying.” The words are like a slap in the face; the gauntlet thrown down. For the first time that night, Warren meets your gaze and the flat, deadened look in his eyes sets you reeling even as a soft, insidious voice at the back of your mind whispers that it would all be so much easier if you just called it off. “You want some appreciation for your effort? Go somewhere else, princess. I don’t fucking appreciate it,” he spits, tone harsh and ugly. The silence that follows is rife with immense volatility, and your nails are digging into your flesh hard enough that you think you might draw blood, but you can’t focus on that right now. All your focus is pulled to Warren and the slight sneer on his face and the way his hand is shaking a little on the bottle and the venomous conviction in his voice that leaves you feeling like you are falling, with no end in sight.

“Fuck you,” you whisper unsteadily, the lump in your throat gone, replaced with a hollow numbness radiating unpleasantly from the pit of your stomach and making everything seem very far away. “Go to hell, Warren.”

The door clicks gently shut behind you and you want to scream till your throat is raw, but everything around you is oppressively silent and so you walk down the hall, away from the apartment, wishing the door had slammed instead.

Five weeks. You wish you weren’t keeping track, but you can’t seem to make yourself forget exactly how long it’s been since everything imploded so you know it’s been five weeks since you last saw Warren. You hardly recognize yourself, struggling to pull familiar features from the angry, tired mess staring back at you from the mirror. There are bags under your eyes, the healthy glow of your skin replaced with an exhausted pallor, bruises on your knuckles. You hardly know yourself, and you think maybe it’s for the best that you never got an office job, because at least your bartending gig in the shitty end of town doesn’t ask questions when you show up to work looking like you haven’t slept in a week. Since things ended, you’ve picked up every available shift, working yourself to the bone in an effort to distract yourself, and when you’re not working, you look for other ways to distract yourself.

Tonight’s distraction is Scott, and he should be fun. His grin has a wicked edge to it, and his lips are full and pink and tempting and he should taste like every kind of exhilaration there is, but all you can taste is the vodka you lose yourself to when other distractions fail, rising like bile at the back of your throat. You are faintly aware of his hands on your body, but your mind feels a million miles away, and you quietly let yourself out when you’re done, the same tense emptiness still weighing heavily on your shoulders.

You see Warren for the first time since the fight three weeks later. You’re changing out an empty bottle of Jack Daniels behind the bar for a new one, so you miss the moment he actually comes in, but when you look up from filling a drink order, you almost drop the full glass because he’s there. Standing in the middle of the bar, frozen with a slightly panicked expression on his face as he spots you. He looks tired-exhausted, really. His knuckles are bloodied and battered and he looks haggard and just as broken as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to just run away. Your hands are shaking slightly as you slide the drink across the bar top before turning away from him, clenching your hands into fists in an attempt to steady them. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and counting slowly to twelve, and when you turn around again, he’s gone. It should be a relief, but instead you feel like you’re teetering on the edge of a very steep drop, staring down a gaping abyss and wondering where you go from here.

Warren shows up at your door in the middle of the night a week later. His eyes are red and puffy and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a month, and despite your voice of reason screaming that it’s a bad idea, you swing the door wider and let him in. He stands, just inside your apartment, staring at you with an anguished expression.

“I was scared of letting you in,” he says finally, his voice low and hesitant and rough. “You’re too good for me, and I damage every good thing I come in contact with and I figured it was better to hurt myself than to let you hurt me and I shut you out and I pushed you away and I am so fucking sorry. You’re-you’re the best thing I ever had and I know-” he breaks off, his breathing shaky, his eyes burning into yours. “I know I have no right to speak to you at all after what I did, let alone ask you for anything, but I’m-I need you. You make me better; you make me feel okay about existing and I am so unbelievably broken and if there is any chance at all that you might have me in your life again, then I am begging you. Please, I’ll be with you in any way you’ll have me but I don’t think I can live without you.” There are tears in his eyes, and his voice is no louder than a whisper by the time he finishes, but you’re still reeling at his words as you take a small, tentative step towards him.

“You’re not broken,” you whisper, eyes still locked with his. You can feel the tears trickling down your face as you take another step closer, and the flash of hope in his expression is as dizzying as it is brief. “You hurt me and you shut me out when I just wanted to be there for you, but you’re not broken and I don’t want to be without you either.” You’re close enough to reach out and touch him now, and you can almost hear the ragged pounding of his heart as you slowly bring a hand up to wipe away a tear sliding down his cheek.

The moment your fingertips brush his skin is like lightning. You’re crying and Warren is crying and his arms are tight around your waist as he buries his face against the crook of your neck, mumbling that he’s sorry and that he loves you over and over as your fingers card through his hair and you cling to him like he’s your lifeline. The two of you stay like that for a long time, just holding each other, reveling in the closeness, and you know it won’t be easy, that there are things you need to discuss and things you haven’t quite forgiven him for saying, but for now, it’s enough that he’s here and that he’s holding you, and for the first time in a very long time, you feel like things might be okay again.

Bad Boy Meets Bad Girl Part 8

New school, new people, new country. Will Y/N be able to keep up her bad girl image or will she fall soft for the schools bad boy?



Masterlist // PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 PT5 PT6 PT7 PT9 PT10 PT11 PT12 Epilogue


The second I stepped into the house I ran straight up to my room throwing my bag and jacket on the bed before getting ready. Once ready and had something to eat (never drink on an empty stomach, you will regret every life decision).


It was 8:45pm leaving me 15 minutes before Michael arrived and to convince my parents to let me go to this party, this was gonna be fun, I walked into the living were my parents were and cleared my throat knowing nothing else would get there attention, my dad took one look at me “no” he announced “ignore him, you look nice, are you going to a party?” my mum asked, she was always easier on my me than my dad “yeah I’m going with some friends” I smiled sheepishly “are you going with that boy from Monday and his girlfriend?” she asked, shit. “Yeah! Michael and…Lydia! They’ll be here at 9 to pic-” I was cut off by my phone buzzing it was Michael we’re outside kitten I rolled my eyes at the nickname “they’re here so I’m gonna go, love you, bye!” I yelled running to the door before they could stop me.

Assuming Luke would be in the front since he got picked up first I went to open the door to the back before Michael rolled down the window stopping me “you’re up front, the guys are all in the back” he smirked why are they in the back? I questioned as I made my way around the front of the car and into the passenger seat. The second I sat down the car was full of loud whistles and a few ‘damn’ “wow Y/N you look incredible” Cal called from the back seat, I couldn’t help but smile at the comment letting out a small “thanks” after.

“WHO’S READY TO PARTY?!” Michael yelled as he revved the engine before speeding down the street and to the house party, the car was full of energy as music flew through the speaks and the boys yelled along hyping themselves up. Surprisingly, Michael only managed to almost knock over one mailbox the entire drive.

You could hear the loud bass from down the street and see the teenagers throwing up there mixed spirits already. Once the car stopped the boys practically fought to get out of the car whilst I unclipped my belt ready to open the door but before I could it swung open to see a blushing Luke holding out his hand for me to take whilst the other boys glared at him, like they wanted to be the ones to open the door for me, none the less I accepted his hand and hopped out making my way to the house. Calum’s hand almost immediately found my lower back as he guided me to the front door, I could feel the music racing through my body the closer we got. I was excited.

Three drinks later and I was dancing my ass on in the middle of the living room with Ash, I was never a good dancer but at that moment I didn’t care. People were all around us, sweaty bodies swaying to the music as others sat on the couch, drinks in hand, either talking or practically dry humping. I could see eye’s on me but it wasn’t Ashton’s, it was Michael’s, he was stood out of the way talking to some girl who practically threw herself on him but he kept his eyes on me the whole time. Not like I care, I mean I don’t like him more than a friend. When I looked ahead of me Ash had disappeared and I was alone, I looked around the room to see if I could find his flopping dirty blond hair but no, he was gone and Michael was making out with the giggle parade. Fucking brilliant. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing him sucking face with her got to me by standing and staring but I also wasn’t going to dance alone.

“You look thirsty from all that dancing” the voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I turned to see Calum holding two drinks “Cal-Pal! Eugh! You’re the best” I yelled as I grabbed the cup and chucked the vodka and coke, mostly vodka. He chuckled, taking a sip “are you okay?” he asked raising an eyebrow, I moved closer to his ear pretending I couldn’t hear him, he asked again. “Yeah, I just need a cigarette” I replied flashing him a sweet smile before making my way past Mike and to the back garden.

We made small talk in the back, mostly about how shit faced the boys were already when I heard Michael talking, his voice was getting louder the closer he came to the back doors. A part of me wanted to grab Calum by the collar of his shirt and kiss him, piss off Michael like he did to me but I’m not that kind of girl. I’m not gonna make out with a guys friend just because he kissed someone else. Instead I finished my cigarette, told Cal he owed me a dance and walked back into the kitchen chugging a bottle of vodka to get shit faced and probably do something I will no doubt regret in the morning. Bring on the good times.


I don’t know what it was that woke me, the sun peeking through the curtains, the sound of the front door opening and closing or the arm around my waist getting a tighter grip on me and pulling my back against his front as he nestled his face further into my back. All I knew was my head felt like it was being split in two, my entire body ached and my eyelids weighed a ton. At this point a normal person would get up and leave or even look behind them too see who’s holding them hostage but not me. Nope. I’m going back to sleep and will figure it out when my head doesn’t feel like it’s been shit on by a monkey and I can keep my eyes open for longer than a second.This time the thing that woke me up was the sound of a glass hitting wood, thankfully I could keep my eyes open for long enough to see who put the glass down, once my vision came back and wasn’t just a blurred mess I saw it was Calum. Shit, did I sleep with Cal last night? FUCK. “Morning” he smirked sitting down on the edge of the bed whilst I pulled myself up making room for him, looking around I knew this wasn’t the house the party was at, it looked way too clean.

“Where am I? Did we sleep together? How much did I drink last night? Also, how did I get here?” I had a lot of questions to ask, the first one being what happened last night. He sighed looking at the floor, clearly avoiding eye contact, making my heart drop and my stomach turn. “You’re in my room, all we did was sleep, you got plastered and me being the most sober I walked you back here because I couldn’t leave you at the party and the boys were just as bad as you”. Well that explains that. I put my head in my hands trying to remember what happened; I was dancing with Ash, he disappeared and I looked around to see Michael sucking face with a plastic then Calum gave me a drink. The last thing I remember was my throat being burnt by vodka whilst the people around me cheered. “What happened?” I know I’ll regret asking but I need to know, Cal’s face fell soft and sympathetic “drink some water and I’ll explain downstairs” and with that, he disappeared, was he hiding something? Or did I do something so bad he didn’t want to tell me?

Taking small sips of the water he brought me I made my way downstairs and to the kitchen where he was making breakfast, the room filled with the smell of burnt bacon and toast as he hummed along to the radio, seeing him like this you’d have never thought he was one of the most feared people in the school. He looked sweet.

As we devoured our breakfast Cal explained that I started dancing with one of his friends, getting too close for Michael’s liking, he came over and started yelling at the guy threatening to beat the living shit out of him for even coming near me, which obviously pissed me off making me yell at him about how it’s okay for him to suck face with some bimbo but not for me to dance with someone. We ended up in a yelling match before I stormed off attempting to chuck another bottle before Luke found me and took it away before suggesting we get out of here and at that point I didn’t care, Cal found us both stumbling to the stairs before telling Luke to go home and he’ll look after me. That’s how I got there, in Cal’s bed with him. Not as bad as I expected.By this time we’d both finished breakfast and I stood up to clear the plates but Calum quickly took them from me telling me to shower and he’ll leave some clothes for me on the bed. I thanked him making my way to his room, thankful it was him who took me home and now someone else.

Once the shower was done I felt better, still shit but better. True to his word there was a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt folded nicely on the bed waiting for me, Calum nowhere to be seen. Quickly changing I realized I don’t have any flat shoes and I was not walking home in my heels or bare foot, then I remembered I had a pair of fold up flats in my purse (if you ever go out, get some they will save your life) thanking the heavens I thought to put them in there I grabbed them and slipped them off before making my way back downstairs to find Calum in the living room watching Brooklyn nine-nine. I stood in the doorway “thanks Cal, for everything. I’ll bring these back at school. I’ll see you around?” it was more like a question than a statement, his head snapped to my direction and his brows scrunched together “if you’re ready to leave I’ll take you home, can’t have a pretty little lady walking the streets alone” he declared turning off the TV and walking towards the door, keys in hand, I was about to reject but he was already out the door leaving me standing there with hands full and mouth opening and closing like a fish. I dashed to catch up to him, damn his long legs and longer strides.The car ride was filled with silence and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t awkward or a long drive for that matter, I guess he lives close by and is thankfully a much safer driver than Michael. Once we made it outside my house I could see him eyeing up the place making me uncomfortable, as I opened the door I thanked him once more for everything before making my way to the front door. It wasn’t until I was shutting the door, me inside that I heard his car making it’s way down the road.

Not wanting to deal with my parents or all the questions they probably have about why I didn’t come home and who I was with I went straight to my room shutting the door gently behind me and flopping down on my bed. What have I done, what did I nearly do?! Michael probably hates me for yelling at him and for nearly fucking his best friend. I’ve fucked everything up haven’t I?

Big Fat Redneck Wedding

Word Count: 1757 (wasn’t intending for this to be this long. my bad.)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, drinking

A/N: So…this may or may not have been inspired by a wedding I attended today. Ok so it was. And yeah…most of the weird shit in there did actually happen.

“Come on, Dean.” You whined, slipping on your black leather flats. “Can’t I just throw myself down the bunker steps and get hurt so I have an excuse not to go to Christine’s fucking wedding? I hate weddings!”

“It’s your cousin, sweetheart. You gotta go.” Dean wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on top of your head. “Do you really wanna listen to your family bitch about it forever if you don’t?”

“No.” You sighed and turned around to face him, leaning your head against his chest. “Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it though.”

“That’s my girl.”

Keep reading

Lashton Pizza Delivery AU a.k.a. I'm sorry for existing

There’s not much to say. Ashton’s shirtless, Luke delivers pizza. Stay tuned for the next instalment. Hope u like:))

Word count- 1,754

Type- Lashton drabble

Part 1

Ashton’s stomach swells in a sickening manner as he pushes himself up from the bed, only to collapse back down again five seconds later with a groan. Fuck. He’s really pushed his limits this time. He thanks the lord that Calum somehow managed to navigate them both down the road steaming drunk at 2am, without one or both of them passing out at his doorstep.

The fuzzy-haired boy is nowhere to be seen in his room, and Ashton assumes that he’d just continued to his house a bit further down the street once he’d made a stop here. His eyes move around the bedroom, stopping at the pile of clothes on the floor, beneath which nests a large, mostly empty bottle of vodka. He remembers wielding it- rather violently if he recalls correctly- as they staggered down the street last night. He thinks he might be sick.

His head throbs violently as he claws blindly at the surface of his bedside table for an ibuprofen. He finds an old pack and rips it open desperately with one hand. One topples out into his hand. Score. Popping it into his mouth and grimacing as it falls down his throat like shard of glass, he reaches down and picks up his phone from the floor. It’s conveniently close to the bed, so he doesn’t have to move much more than shuffle slightly to the left, which is good since Ashton never wants to move again. Ever. Also, he’s never drinking again. Ever.

The first notification to catch his attention as he presses the home button is a text from Dominos for some discount. Oooh, pizza. He could seriously do with demolishing a Meatilicous Dominos pizza right now. Well not to demolish…to nibble and try not to fiercely eject from his stomach. Either way, he’s getting one. He doesn’t think it’s going to be physically possible to slide out of bed to the fridge in the state he’s in, and thanks the higher powers for pizza delivery guys. Saints.

Tapping in his home address and number, Ashton selects a pizza with almost every topping under the sun. Today is definitely a ‘go big or go home’ kind of a day. Medium, or Large? Hmm, Large. He sticks out his tongue with concentration whilst filing his order. It’s serious stuff.

Any special instructions? A grin spreads across Ashton’s face as he remembers the guy on the internet who got the pizza lady to bring the pizza right up to his room. He wonders if it’d be a total dick move if he were to do the same. It would be so amazing- like room service in his house. Calum would probably call him a massive twat, but Calum isn’t here experiencing the Worst Hangover Ever, so Ashton’s going to do it.

Hello! Am so hungover am finding it hard to move, lol. Could you bring it up to my room, pretty please???? The back door is unlocked and my room is up the stairs, first door on the right. If it makes you uncomfortable, feel free to just ring like a normal person, but I might vomit on you at any moment if I have to move. Drive safe dudes x’ he types, re-reading it twice and cringing at how much of a dick he is when he types. Whatever. Hunger calls.

He places his order and collapses back on the bed, skimming his eyes across the floor for his wallet. There it is. On the other side of the room, peeking out of the back pocket of yesterday’s crumpled jeans. He has forty minutes-ish to get it, so he’s not in a rush, but even the thought of moving from his spot makes Aston want to die. And his room is so warm, and his head is so throb-by and just the thought of pizza just makes him sleepy and he wants a cudddllleee…



‘Excuse me?’

Ashton’s eyes snap open and he sees a pair of black converse shuffling around awkwardly in the doorway of his room. What the-

‘Fuck!’ he scrambles up to greet the pizza guy and is reminded all too suddenly of his vicious hangover, as his whole body decides to lurch forward off the bed, and he crashes to the floor at the feet of the delivery guy. ‘Sorry! Sorry.’

‘Fuck, are you okay?’

‘Yeah! Yeah,’ Ashton grimaces, pretending like he’s not about to start dry heaving onto the carpet. This is the most embarrassing this that’s ever happened to him. Instead he gets up with his wallet now in his hand, and smiles at the boy standing in front of him. WHO, by the way, is absolutely fucking gorgeous. Oh, wow, Ashton thinks. All soft blonde hair and pretty blue eyes framed by the curliest lashes he’s ever seen.

‘Have I got the wrong house? You’re Ashton Irwin, right?’ says the boy, dipping his hand into his pocket to retrieve a bit of paper with Ashton’s order on it.

‘No! I mean- yeah, yeah I’m him. You haven’t got the wrong house,’ Ashton smiles. The boy smiles back and Ashton thinks he might’ve gone to heaven. If he’d thought all pizza delivery guys were this damn attractive, he’d be getting pizza every fucking night of the week. He has a lip piercing. ‘So do you deliver pizzas often?’

What, the fuck is he talking about?! Smooth fucking going, Ash. He’s a pizza deliverer. He must never deliver fucking pizzas. He struggles not to slap himself in the face, clutching his hands together tightly as if he’s caught an insect.

‘No, actually. This is like, my first day,’ replies the guy, scratching the back of his neck with a pale hand.  He laughs nervously.

‘Oh,’ say’s Ashton, feeling embarrassed, ‘well I’m sorry that I have to be one of your first sights of the job. All hung over and shirtless and…gross.’ Oh god, he actually wants to dive out of the window. The guy laughs though, placing the pizza box down on the bed and waiting for Ashton to retrieve twenty dollars from his wallet. Oh lord, the guy’s teeth are like tiny white shrines and Ashton wants to kiss them more than he wants to eat pizza, right now. Well, maybe about the same- he does seriously want pizza. But he also wants to kiss this guy’s face, so he’s really quite conflicted.

‘You’re not gross, the last people I went to had a really loud, dog. Which was, like, pretty scary. And plus, you look kind of…you look sorta cute when you’re ‘hungover’.’ He motions his fingers like quotation-marks as he says ‘hungover’ and Ashton scoffs. Partly, because the absolute Greek God in front of him just called him cute (like, what?! Is this real life?). But also because how dare he imply that Ashton would lie about being hungover, just so he can have his pizza delivered up to his room?!

‘I am too hungover!’ he protests, fishing a note out of his wallet and handing it to the guy.

‘You look like you’ve just woken from eleven sober hours of sleep and then had an hour of spa treatments! I refuse to believe it.’ This leaves Ashton slightly lost for words, as he didn’t actually expect to engage in flirtatious conversation with someone this gorgeous, this early in the day. Especially not the pizza delivery guy. He’s also flattered because standing here in his boxers, with his hair sticking up in places, and two great bags under his no-doubt very bloodshot eyes- he’s far from cute.

‘T-thanks. You look good, too?’ he attempts back.

‘In my pizza shirt?’ the guy tugs the hem of his red polo shirt and looks up at Ashton, biting his lip. Fuck, Ashton wants him. It’s animalistic and bad that he’s getting like this after not ten minutes of the guy being in the room. But then again he hasn’t gotten off in like three days.

‘What can I say? Men in uniform,’ he retorts back, raising a slightly suggestive eyebrow at the boy in front of him, who now looks has nowhere to go but back to his car. He looks like he’s trying to find a reason to stay and talk, but they both know there is none. They stand for a moment, Ashton in his boxer shorts and the guy pulling at the bottom of his shirt.

‘Well, anyway…I should probably-’ he starts.

‘Do you wanna share this with me?’ Ashton blurts out before the boy can leave. He looks a little startled at the offer and before he can duck his head completely, Ashton notices he’s blushing fiercely. He smiles at the ground and looks up again.

‘Um…I can’t really because I’m working…’

‘Oh, okay,’ says Ashton. He should’ve known that, Jesus. Why did he ask that? He’s such a twat.

‘But do you wanna maybe, like- we don’t have to- but do you want to go for a drink or I dunno, like a Starbucks or something, later?’ asks the guy. He stumbles over his words so adorably that Ashton has to restrain himself from screaming ‘FUCK YES’ at the top of his lungs almost immediately.

‘Yeah, man. That’d be cool, I guess,’ he tries to say nonchalantly, but his voice tilts up threateningly high at the end, and he cringes like there’s no tomorrow.

‘Do you want…my number?’ says the guy.

‘Dominos number?’

‘No, like…my actual, personal number?’

Ashton is an absolute mess. Oh lord. Obviously not Dominos number. He’s such a blithering idiot, sometimes.

‘Oh, fuck, right. Yeah. Yes, please.’

‘I’m Luke, by the way.’

‘I’m Ashton- oh fuck, wait, you knew that…’ he says. Luke giggles and tugs at his lip ring with his teeth again. Fuck. Ashton’s vision is hazy and it’s not due to last night’s alcohol intake. He hands Luke his phone and they stand in silence for a few moments while he types in his number.

‘So, I’ll see you tonight, I guess?’ he says, gently putting the phone back in Ashton’s hand.

‘Yeah, I guess you will,’ says Ashton in disbelief, not quite understanding how or why this encounter turned out like it did. Luke huffs a laugh and swings a little on the balls of his feet before backing out of the door, leaving Ashton to his pizza.

He stands still for a moment, and upon hearing the backdoor click shut does a little hop, skip and jump onto his mattress. He grins like a maniac down at his phone screen, where it says ‘Luke:))’ with about six pizza emojis. Luke’s already texted himself with ‘Hey Luke, it’s Luke,’ and Ashton comes to the quick realisation that he’s going on a date with a massive dork. But hey- it’s not even 12 o’clock and he has a cute boy’s number and a pizza. What a fantastic start to the day.

katiebeckett  asked:

prompt: "vodka: because 14 shots tastes better than the thought of you loving someone that isn't me" (maybe 47 seconds arc or whatever you feel like I don't care) (thank you Raina ily)

A/N: Because I love the ‘47 Seconds’ storyline and it’s Valentine’s Day, let’s pretend this arc took place a little earlier in the season.



Kate glances up from the bottom of her glass to find Castle approaching her, his brow in a deep furrow, something like concern flaring in the bright blues of his eyes, but no… no, the alcohol has her imagining things. He doesn’t feel concern for her anymore, doesn’t feel anything for her. Except maybe the bitterness she’s grown to know so well.

“Kate, are you okay?”

He comes to a stop in front of her booth, his eyes assessing her with caution, like she’s some kind of wild animal he should be wary of, and she scoffs at him for it.

“I’m fine, Cassstle,” she replies, her lips quirking with amusement. His name made a pleasant hum on her tongue when she dragged it out like that. “What’re you doing here?”

“Jimmy, the bartender, called me. He said you’ve been here all evening and he was worried,” he reveals, tilting his head at her. “You come to the Old Haunt on Valentine’s Day?”

“No,” she mutters, lifting the shot glass to her lips and swallowing down the burn of vodka, breathing past the spread of fire up her throat, through her sinuses. Not nearly as strong now as it was during the third or fourth. The liquor had lost some of its bite after she’d reached the tenth shot. 

“Did you - were you looking for me?” Castle asks, his voice the most gentle she’s heard in weeks and she scowls at him. 

Maybe she had hoped by some off chance that he would be here when she arrived a few hours ago, but by the looks of it - his crisp red dress shirt, the fitted blazer and the soft touch of gel in his hair, he had been on a date. It was Valentine’s Day, of course he had a date. 

And it makes the tears she’s held back prick her eyes. Walls or not, she had wanted him to be her Valentine this year.

“No, so you can get back to your date,” she snaps, signaling the bartender for another, but Castle overrules her with a slice of his fingers beneath his chin. And who the hell does he think he is cutting her off? 

“What date?” he questions, blocking her view of the bar, and she growls, slams her glass down on the table with a little too much force. 

“The flight attendant, I’m assuming? Or is it someone new? How many are there now, Rick?” 

“How many have you had?” he asks instead, deflecting, and her heart crumbles. Part of her had foolishly hoped he would tell her she was wrong, that there was no one else, no blonde bimbos. No one but her. “Kate, how many-”

“Fourteen shots, mostly vodka,” she relents on a sigh, slumping back in her seat and tracing the rim of her glass with her thumb. Vodka often put her to sleep, made her drowsy and pliant, but her high tolerance when it came to drinking had certainly made itself known tonight and the liquor had only fed her sorrow, hardly washed away the truth that she couldn’t bear to face.

He didn’t love her anymore.

Her bottom lip begins to tremble without warning and she immediately pierces it with her teeth, refuses to cry, let alone in front of him.


Kate huffs, unable to meet the eyes she can feel watching her, waiting on her, but Castle doesn’t give her much of a choice. He slides into her side of the booth without permission, nudges her further across the seat to make room for him.

“You never drink like this,” he murmurs, and there is concern in his voice this time, she’s certain of it, and that somehow makes it worse, makes everything worse. “So why tonight?”

“Because,” she whispers, clearing her throat, horrified by the watery rasp that accompanies her words. “Fourteen shots tastes better than the thought of you loving someone that isn’t me.”

Castle is silent beside her and she doesn’t have the courage to risk a glance at his face, to see what her confession may have evoked, be it pity or annoyance.

“I’m sorry your bartender called,” she mumbles, scraping a hand through her hair and shifting in her seat, desperate to escape with whatever little dignity she may have left. “I’ll leave, hail a cab-”

“What makes you think I love someone else?”

Kate flicks her gaze up to his face, the cobalt of his eyes sharp enough to snag her fleeting attention,  his features so hard, so serious, but for once, not necessarily angry with her.

“I just - you’re dating other people,” she manages, the words burning far worse than the liquor on her tongue. “And you’re diff-different, we’re different now, and I get it, Castle. You don’t - you don’t love me anymore.” Kate purses her lips, more of the treacherous tears threatening to swarm her eyes at any moment now, and wipes at the corners before they can form. “And I want you to be happy, I do, but I don’t - I didn’t want you to love someone else. Now or in the future, I just want - I wanted you to love me.”

Her skin is feverish with mortification, not enough alcohol in her system to rid her of her embarrassment, never enough, but at least he knows the truth. Regardless of whether or not they missed their chance, at least he knew how she-

“I never stopped loving you,” he croaks, breaking through the haze of sad acceptance and alcohol clouding her mind, and Kate jerks her eyes from the resting place of his shirt collar, blearily searches for some kind of lie hiding in his features, for a catch in words that are too good to be true. But there is nothing but grief, steadily becoming outweighed by relief, flooding his gaze. “I thought - but you don’t-”

“Don’t what?” she murmurs, creasing her brow as she turns in the booth, her knee pressing against his thigh. The wheels of her brain are turning, slower than usual, a little clumsier, but does he think… has he really been thinking this entire time that she doesn’t love him back? “Castle, I love you. You knew that, right?”

He doesn’t answer, staring back at her with his eyes wide, glistening bright blue in the golden spill of light from the lamp over their booth, and Kate groans, lists into him until her head hits his shoulder.

“You didn’t know? This is so sad.”

A surprised breath of laughter rushes past her ear and Castle bands an arm around her back, rubs a hand up and down the curved bow of her spine. 

“A little,” he concurs, covering her hand when it rises to fist in the neck of his shirt. “Would it help if I told you I wasn’t on a date tonight?”

Her head is heavy, too much for her neck to support, but she lifts it from his shoulder to look up at him, the hope flaring sharp and bright in her chest.

“You weren’t?”

Castle shakes his head, a tentative smile on his lips. “Not with Jacinda-”

The disgust must bleed onto her face, because he places his hand to her jaw, smooths his thumb along the frown of her lips.

“Or any other woman that I’m not related to, for that matter. Tonight, I took my mother and daughter out to an early dinner before they both ditched me to enjoy Valentine’s Day with their actual dates,” he explains, his thumb traversing higher to caress the delicate skin beneath her eye. “But I haven’t loved anyone other than you for a long time, Kate. You don’t have to worry about that.”

The tight knot that had formed within her chest over the last few weeks unravels, allowing room for her heart to exalt, to rejoice, and Kate reaches for him, cupping his face in her hands as she presses a kiss to his mouth, almost missing but close enough. Castle’s lips spread beneath hers and she wants to do more, to celebrate, but the vodka in her veins protests the idea. She’s wasted too much time wallowing, drowning her sorrows in a dangerous habit to do much else tonight. 

“Come on, Beckett,” he murmurs, dusting a kiss to the corner of her mouth, staining another to the slash of her cheek before he takes her hand and draws back from her. “I’ll take you home and we can salvage the last of Valentine’s Day on your couch watching movies.” 

“Movie date,” she hums, nodding her agreement, but she’ll be lucky if she stays awake for most of it, any of it, even luckier if he doesn’t see her vomit before the night is over. “Not going to be a great Valentine’s date, Castle. M’sorry.” 

Castle assists her in slipping out of the booth, steadies her with his warm palms to the bones of her hips, his lips at her forehead. And Kate cants into him, holds tight to his shoulders and nudges her nose to his cheek in approval of this newfound allowance of touch and affection he’s never been allowed to show her before. 

 “You love me,” he reminds her, his voice both earnest and teasing, smug yet amazed. “It’s already perfect.”

The Space Between Girl and Friend Pt. 2

I also recommend listening to Taeil’s “Because of You” or “The Only One Person” for maximum emotional effect. Haha!

Click for Part 1 here.

Pairing: Jaehyun/ Y/N

Originally posted by nicolexleeee

You woke up the next day with a pounding headache. It was so hard to move around your bed without the risk of splitting your head into two. 

You ran to the bathroom when you could no longer take it. Opening the bowl, you spilled the contents of last night which was mostly the vodka you drank for the first time in your life. 

After heaving most of the contents of your stomach, you leaned against the wall of your bathroom. It was exhausting. 

‘And I’m thirsty,’ you added. 

You tried to stand up, even with a spinning vision. 

It was still a Tuesday. Your graduation celebration came in a few days too early.

With much effort, you managed to bathe and dress yourself for school. 

At the back of your mind, however, a thought kept nagging at you. 

How the hell were you able to get home last night? 

You didn’t remember much from last night since you were too buzzed. 

“Good morning, Mom,” you greeted her, your usual energy gone. Avoiding your mother’s gaze, you immediately took a seat before you faint from the headache you were having.  

“Good morning, princess,” she said, her usual smile on her face. She laid down a bowl in front of you and filled it with milk and cereal. 

You could also almost sigh in relief. At least your mom didn’t suspect anything was wrong with you. 

You started munching at your cereal until you felt something was missing. 

“Ah, Jae,” you muttered to yourself. Jaehyun was usually at your house at this time, to eat breakfast even though he has already eaten at his. 

‘Maybe he’s sick?’ you thought to yourself. The only times he never was at your home was when he was sick, and even when, he still tried his best to visit. 

You shrugged your thoughts of him. You still felt bad at him because he didn’t tell you he was courting someone. 

But after almost 15 minutes of silence, you could no longer keep your mouth shut. 

“Mom, where’s Jae?” 

“Oh?” She peeked her head from the kitchen. “He called earlier, said he’d go to school early.”

“That’s weird,” you said. Your eyebrows were already meeting in annoyance. “He never goes to school without me.” 

You were like a child denied of her toy. 

“Oh, you know how Jae is,” your Mom said. “Maybe he’s meeting up with his girlfriend,” she casually added as she went back to the kitchen. 

You dropped your spoon on the bowl, creating a loud bang. 

“Honey, is everything alright?” Your Mom peeked from the kitchen again. 

“Yes,” you replied. Your eyes felt hot around the corners as you tried to hide your face from your mother. “I’ll go ahead.” 

Your Mom frowned. “Okay. Take care!” 

You rushed out of the house, careful to not slam the door even if you felt like slamming it. 

“Damn you, Jung Jaehyun,” you said under your breath. 

You went in the car annoyed. Here you were with probably a hangover for the first time in your life and your best friend was nowhere to be found. Your morning was shaping into a good one. 

“Good morning, princess!” Your dad was as bright as ever. 

“Good morning, Dad,” you said without much energy. You slowly massaged your temples, trying to ease the pain. 

Your dad was the type of person who notices something was amiss and never presses you more about it. 

You were thankful he didn’t interrogate you for your odd behavior that morning. 

Soon, you arrived at your school. You bid your Dad goodbye. But before you could fully go out of the car, he said, “I know you and Jaehyun are not on the best terms these past few days, but honey, it’ll be alright. Okay?” 

And for the first time in days, you felt yourself smiling at his words. 

“Okay,” you said, heaving a sigh. “See you later, Dad.” 

“You can do it, princess,” he said before driving off.

You were finally starting to feel positive when it completely turned negative. 

School had just to tease you and welcome you with the scene you didn’t want the most. 

Jaehyun with his ‘girlfriend’. 

You almost spat out the word at them, at him.

You were behind them, following their steps towards your classroom. When you could no longer take it, you passed by them, saying, “There’s lots of people behind you, damn it. Walk faster.”

You could care less if you were being rude. The dull headache you were having didn’t improve your mood either.

You placed your bag on your seat with a thud. You were really so close to losing it.  

“Ah, hello, Y/N,” Jaehyun greeted as you settled on your seat beside him. 

You turned to look at him and creased your brows. “Good morning, Jaehyun,” you said his name pointedly. His tone was never formal with you, especially after years of friendship. Teasing, maybe. But formal? Never. 

You glanced at the girl beside him and gave her what you thought was your meanest glare. 

Jaehyun only chuckled at your greeting, somewhat nervous and sheepish. He must have not noticed your glare. That, or he was pretending not to see. 

He was about to say something more when your Homeroom teacher came. Of course, his ‘girlfriend’ bid him goodbye with a kiss on his cheeks. 

That made your temper flare. It was something you couldn’t understand. It was only natural since she was his ‘girlfriend’, right? But why does it make you…ugh. You couldn’t even finish the thought. 

The day passed by in a blur with Jaehyun acting nervous and awkward around you. He didn’t even eat lunch with you! Instead, he opted to spend it with his ‘girlfriend’. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you ate alone in your table. 

Jaehyun never left you alone. 

'Well, now, he has.’ You wiped the tears harshly. You thought you must have looked stupid, looking all sad and teary-eyed as you ate your lunch. Alone. 

You sighed. ‘I guess it’s time to be independent.’ 

You need to learn to survive without him. Jaehyun was just your best friend, not your oxygen.

Although he might as well be that because you two had been inseparable since you were little. 

When your classes ended with Jaehyun still acting weird around you, you could no longer contain yourself. 

You approached him even though your pride dictated you shouldn’t. 

“Jae?” You were walking behind him in the empty corridor. 

Jaehyun stiffened at the sound of your voice. He never does that.

He turned to face you, his face was a mixture of expressions you couldn’t read. 

Was it regret? Sadness? Guilt? 

“Are you mad at me?” you said, conjuring up your old technique of pouting and making your voice soft like when you have done something wrong. 

“N-No,” Jaehyun replied. He was avoiding your eyes. 

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Tears were coming out of your eyes now. You hated yourself for being too weak when it comes to him. 

“I’m not. I’m just— ” Jaehyun finally looked at you and saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N.” He reached for your shoulders, but you avoided his touch. 

“Why are you being like this, Jae? Were you mad because of what I did last night?” 

His face darkened as he remembered what happened. “Maybe,” he replied.

“So, it wasn’t that that you’re mad at,” you said, tears now escaping your eyes at a faster rate. “Then what is it?” 

Jaehyun didn’t answer.

“Or maybe you aren’t mad?”

Jaehyun stared at you wide-eyed then avoided your gaze again. 

“Do you know how frustrating it is to be avoided by your best friend? By the one you like?!” Your hand flew to your mouth. He wasn’t supposed to know!

Jaehyun winced then said in a low voice, “I know.” 

“K-know what?” Your heart beat wildly in your chest. 

“You confessed to me last night, when you were drunk.” Jaehyun finally stared at you straight in the eye.

Your stared at him in shock, eyes wide. What else had you said to him? Did you reveal your hatred for his girlfriend? You hoped not.

“But that’s the thing, Y/N.” He smiled bitterly at you. 

 And you knew what was coming. 

“I do not see you the same way as you see me,” Jaehyun said. “You’ll always be my best friend, the best young sister I’ll never have. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you want. From now on, maybe it’s best if we avoid each other.” 

You couldn’t speak as you stayed rooted on the ground and merely let your tears fall. 

“Goodbye, my Y/N,” Jaehyun said as he hugged you for what you think would be the last time ever and left you in that empty corridor. 

Notes: I hoped that was plenty sad for you, Anon-ie. T___T This was really sad for me to write. But the reality is that. There would be people we like who could never like us back. Anyway~ for requests, please send me an ask! :D

Dolan Twins Preference

You Do Something He Objects From


You were at a party with Grayson and the whole thing was crazy. Drinks everywhere, weed chains, and blasting music. 

I’m getting a drink with (y/f/n).” You yell over the music. “Want anything?” 

“No, I’m gonna find Ethan. Make sure he doesn’t get in any trouble.” Gray informs you. 

You both nod and part your ways. You follow (y/f/n) to the kitchen and dig in the cooler for cold drinks. You end up mixing some Vodka and some juice together, but mostly Vodka in your drink. You make one also for your friend.

His P.O.V 

Where the hell is Ethan? I thought. I knew he shouldn’t have left early to the party.

There was a lot of people at the party, I doubt I’m able to find that runaway. I asked around for him, but they said they didn’t know either. It started to get really late. 

Your P.O.V

You were maybe on your third or fourth drink, with occasional shots in between. You and your friend took shots together and danced around the house, moving with the huge crowd. 

“(y/n),” You heard your name being called, but wasn’t sure. “(y/n).” You were whipped around and saw Grayson standing there, holding Ethan. 

“Hi, bub,” You laugh and hang on him. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Let me try again. Hi, babe,” 

“Are you drunk?” He asks leaning in closer to you. 

You laugh it off. “Just tipsy. A little bit,” 

Hey, (y/n)! Are we as drunk as me?” Ethan laughs holding on to Grayson. 

“We’re going home, now!” Gray says holding you by your waist. 

“Gray-Bae, you’re no fun!” You giggles stumbling on your feet. 

“Can we get ice cream on the way home?” Ethan asks, leaning against Gray. 

He pulled you guys walking down the street, since the party was just a small walking distance. “No, we can’t stop by anywhere. You guys are intoxicated and underage. We can’t get caught,”

“Hey,” You whispered. “Hey, Ethan!” 

He leaned over and looked at you. “Yea, (y/n)?” 

“Let’s run from Grayson so we could get ice cream,” You whisper. 

He nods. “Okay,”

“I’m standing right in between you guys,” Gray says walking us. 

You put a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell Grayson our plan,” 

He had an incredulous smile looking at you. “I am Grayson,” 

You guys made it to their house and Gray helped you guys upstairs. He set Ethan in his own room and you on his bed, taking off your shoes and pulling the covers over you. 

“Gray?” You sat up.

“Yes, babe,” 

“I love you,” You say sliding down again. “Goodnight, bub,” 

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “I love you, too. Goodnight,”

lift her, pull her, from the orchids (grace/frankie, 1200 words, g)

@dearophelia​: don’t make me write that fic

…I wrote that fic. Also available on AO3.

It’s a Tuesday.

And not even a particularly remarkable Tuesday, at that.

It’s a Tuesday, and Frankie’s on the couch cheering on some kid in the spelling bee who’s stuck on a word Grace has never heard of. She’s shouting letters as if the kid can actually hear her, and if the grin she gives her phone is any indication - she’s just won ten bucks off of Sol. Grace puts her book down on the arm of the chair and peers over the rim of her glasses, with all intentions of telling Frankie to please keep it down.

But she doesn’t. Because Frankie’s grinning, not at her phone and not at the TV, but at her, and it does something funny to Grace’s chest.

(Not in a bad way, not like what happened in Robert’s chest last year.

No, this is funny in a good way, but she doubts there’s any word in the entire spelling bee to describe it.)

“I’m up fifty dollars,” Frankie says.

Grace gives her a little thumbs up, and Frankie re-crosses her legs so she’s sitting on them the other way.

“Concatenate,” the boy on the television says. “C-O-N-C-A-T-E-N-A-T-E. Concatenate.”

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