please watch your comments i don't want to take it down again

anonymous asked:

An imagine in which reader and Monty don't get along but the sexual tension is real so they end up having sex at the Crestmont wow

I’M SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LATE BUT I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. I’M SORRY THAT I DIDN’T SHOW MUCH TENSION, AND THE SEX MAY GET A LIL SAUCY GUYS SO BEWARE IF YOU’RE 9.


“Ew, why is he here?” You frowned, hopping into the back seat of Alex’s car and shutting the door behind you.

“Shut up, Y/N.” Monty replied to your comment that was directed to him.

“You shut up,” You bit back, putting your seat belt on. “Little turd.” You muttered, looking out the window to your right as Alex began driving to the Crestmont Cinema.

“Why don’t you make me?”

You rolled your eyes at Monty’s comment, leaning forward and facing him, who was sat beside the other window, Jess separating you both.

“I will,” You insisted. “In your dreams.”

He chucked darkly. “You’re already in them, baby.”

You scrunched your face up in disgust at the cocky smirk on his face. “Yuck.” You gagged. “Stay aw-”

“Can you guys just get along already, please?” Alex groaned, turning onto a main street.

“Yeah, just fuck each other for once, you know you want to.”

“Shut up, Justin.” You snapped, facing the boy sat in the passenger seat laughing.


“Get your leg off of me.” Monty whispered, pushing your leg gently from his lap.

“Make me.” You dared, mimicking Monty from before as you sipped on your drink and placed your right leg back over his lap.

Monty turned to you, but you ignored his gaze, as he smirked menacingly. You almost let out a gasp as he slowly moved his hand up along the inside of your thigh. You turned your head and met his eyes, the light from the movie screen shining onto his face, letting you see the change in his eyes and his smirk turn into a full blown smug grin before he turned to watch the movie again.

His hand was slow and soft, teasing your skin with sparks of excitement. You gripped his bicep, causing him to slowly turn and face you, keeping his eyes on yours as his fingers reached your crotch, causing you to close your eyes and let out a breathy sigh.

He leaned into you, kissing your jaw softly before moving along and down to your neck. To anyone else, to your friends, it looked like a simple whisper. You opened your eyes when he pulled away, looking over to see the most smug smirk he had ever worn.

“If you’re going to tease me with the trailer, you could at least show me the whole performance.”

He smirked at your hushed statement, grabbing your hand and jumping up, pulling you behind him down the stairs. You ignored your friends confused quiet comments, snorts of laughter, and gagging sounds as you headed down the stairs.

“We’re going to the bathroom.” Monty insisted, making your stomach twist with excitement.

“What if Clay sees us?” You asked, slightly worried, Monty pushing open the theatre doors and pulling you behind him.

“Who cares? It’s Clay!” He exclaimed, running down the large hallway and heading toward the toilets. “He’s too innocent to know what’s going on.” He mused.

“He isn’t five.” You rolled your eyes, following a rushing Montgomery into the men’s toilets.

“Whatever,” He hurried, turning from you to lock the door before facing you again. “Check the stalls.”

You laughed but obeyed, rushing along and pushing on all of the bathroom stall doors, them all opening with ease with no one inside. You were thankful tonight wasn’t a busy night.

You turned to Monty, smirking, before pulling him toward you and kissing him hard. His hands came down and cupped your ass, pulling you further into him, a smile lifting your lips while on his.

Monty pulled back from the kiss, trailing down to your neck instead. “I need you,” You breathed, your hands going to his belt buckle. “So fucking bad.”

He groaned against your skin, his hands tightening around the hold on your hips. “You sure?” He asked, his belt being dropped between you both. “We don’t have a condom.”

“I think you have good aim,” You slipped off your own pants. “Just pull out.”

He sighed, pulling you against him, stopping you from slipping his pants off too. “I don’t want to do this if you’re not one hundred percent sure you’re okay with this.”

You looked up to Monty, your stomach warming at how he actually did care about you, under all of that hard shell. “I’m sure, totally, one hundred percent sure,” You smiled up at him. “Are you?”

He grinned. “Yeah,” He breathed, landing a soft kiss on your lips. “Take my pants off then.” He chuckled, amused at your eagerness.

You laughed, but continued to take his jeans off, followed by his boxers, and his prominent little (big) friend springing forward. Monty let out a quiet moan as your fingertips grazed down his length, teasing him. He pulled you up straight and kissed you again, walking you both to the sink area and picking you up before placing you on top of the counter.

“We need to be quick,” He kissed your neck. “And quiet,” He pulled you forward, slipping off your panties. “Fuck,” He whispered. “We just need to be fast.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him hard. “Go on then,” You took one of his hands and placed it over your bare crotch. He shivered, growling into your mouth as he hoisted you up and spun you around, pushing your back gently in order for you to bend over the counter. “Fuck me.”

He laughed, warm hands gripping your hips from behind as his cock slid over your slit. You spread your legs further a part, giving him easier access, before he gently and slowly pushed in, a deep groan emitting from his lips.

“F-Fuck,” He gasped, his hand traveling under your shirt and gripping your back as you moaned at the feeling of him filling you. “Baby,” He gripped your ass, pulling out slowly before pumping back in.

You moaned, a bit too loud, making you worry Clay might knock on the door soon. “Fuck, M-Monty, yes.” You breathed, biting your closed fist as he began pumping harder and faster, the top half of your body leaning over the counter top.

He panted hard as he pounded into you from behind, his hands gripping your skin and yours covering your mouth so you didn’t moan too loud. You watched Monty’s face in the mirror and how his face changed with every push and pull of his hips. Fuck, he was so damn sexy when aroused.

Monty’s fingers reached around to your clit, circling the sensitive bud fast and hard, making you almost scream out in pleasure. You moved your hips with his hard thrusts, creating more friction with the mirrored action.

“Fuck, baby girl,” He growled. “Just like that.”

The nickname turned you on even more, and you simply moved faster and harder against him, earning deep moans from the jock behind you.

You could feel yourself climbing closer to orgasm, the twist in your stomach growing with every thrust of Monty’s hips and deep groan from his throat. The feeling of being caught made this so much more exciting, and Monty’s hands moving from your hips to ass to hair to thighs was driving you crazy.

“I need you to cum, baby, okay?” He panted.

You nodded your head, enjoying the feeling of his cock and his fingers, your mind swimming in bliss and exhilaration as the waves rolled through your body alongside a loud moan of Monty’s name. His loud groans accompanied the head to toe pleasure that warmed your skin and flushed your cheeks as you came onto his pumping cock.

Monty rode your orgasm out, relishing in the feeling, before he slowly pulled out of you. Straight away, his hand grasped his length and began to pump, lifting your shirt higher up your back. His moans filled the room, and as his groans began to break his hot cum shot along your back, causing a surprised squeak to fall from your lips.

“Fuck,” Monty moaned, taking a few deep breaths as you looked at him through the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair as his other hand continued to slowly glide up and down his hard shaft. “Y/N, oh god.”

He threw his head back, letting out a few deep groans, before letting go of himself, both of his hands going to your hips in order to support himself up right. He was elevated and worn out, an odd mixture, but totally worth it.

He stepped back from your bent over form and grabbed some paper towel to clean yourselves up with. You stayed where you were, letting Monty clean up as he insisted.

“Babe, that was s-”

“Excuse me?” A voice from outside the door sounded, followed by a series of knocking.

Your eyes widened and you spun around to Monty, his jaw slacked open in shock. Fuck. Shit. You located your clothes and picked them up, making sure your back was cleaned before straightening out your shirt.

“Shit!” You whisper shouted, putting your pants on. “It’s Clay!” You squeaked as you zipped your jeans up, facing an almost laughing Monty.

“What are we gonna do?!” He exclaimed in a hushed tone, amusement flashing in his eyes as he quickly ran and threw the paper towels into the toilet and flushed it. He cringed at the noise he just made, but threw his pants back on. “Quick!” He pushed you inside a stall. “I’ll get him away and you just run back to the theatre in like three minutes.”

“Okay.” You nodded, fixing your hair and clothes. “I’ll meet you in there.”

He grinned and kissed you, shutting the cubicle door before heading over to face a confused Clay in whom stood behind the main door to the bathroom. You could hear Monty’s belt being rushed back on, making you almost laugh.

“Hey, man.” Monty greeted Clay, you could imagine the wide cocky smirk on his face.

“Yeah, hey, Monty,” Clay replied distractedly. “Why’s the door locked?”

“Oh! I just didn’t want anyone coming in here,” Monty reasoned. “Shitting alone and all that.”

“Right,” Clay sounded disbelieving. “Well-”

“Can you help me choose a snack?” Monty cut in before Clay could continue. “Please?”

Clay sighed, and the image of his puzzled features made you almost laugh loudly. “Sure, Monty.”


** IM SORRY IF THERE’S ANY MISTAKES IVE MISSED. IM VV TIRED AS I POST THIS AND AM NOT WITH IT LMAO SO I APOLOGISE. LOVE YA **

anonymous asked:

What do you think it would be like of the fakes got arrested (probably at different times cause they are better than that) and got psych evaluations. The police would probably get even more of an realization that they are freakin monsters. (If you could somehow maybe put freewood in that would make me very happy, but you don't have to if you don't want) ALSO I LOVE YOUR BLOG!!!!

THANKS FRIEND! That makes me feel way worse for what i’m about to do but apologies i’m not super comfortable playing around with psychological evaluations, sorry to disappoint! In lieu i offer you a bit of a more generic, though infinitely more melodramatic, insight into that one time the cops got their hands on Ryan and Gavin then instantly wished they hadn’t. 


To get the Vagabond and Free in custody, to not only pin them down but catch them without killing them in the process, is more or less a goddamn miracle and everybody knew it. There’s a weird energy amongst the LSPD officers, half smug pride at the triumph, half quiet terror at what comes next.

The entire journey back to the station is fraught with tension, the completely legitimate fear that the Fake AH Crew may come for their own keeping everyone on high alert. It doesn’t help that despite the fact that there’s no way it could be possible Free and the Vagabond are acting like getting arrested was their intention, like everything is going according to plan. As relaxed as two handcuffed men surrounded by armed officers can possibly be they’ve ignored all demands to shut their mouths in favour of critiquing how well they think everything has been going so far.

Ryan asks for the time any chance he gets, responding to each update with a pleased grin so unsettling that officers begin to refuse to answer. In response Ryan has taken to humming a quiet tick tock tick tock tick tock under his breath while he stares them down.

The less said about the transfer between van and station the better. Six officers swarm around the Vagabond while only one moves to escort Free, a choice that leaves Ryan shaking his head in utter disbelief and Gavin smirking away like the cat who caught the canary. He leers all over his increasingly uncomfortable guard while Ryan is yanked roughly to his feet and pushed out of the van, followed moments later by a grunt and a scream as Ryan is tazed without provocation and Gavin’s new friend loses a chunk of his arm to that sharp grin. It’s a traumatising experience across the board.

By the time Ryan’s head clears they’ve already dragged him into the station, frogmarching him towards an intake room, with Gavin somewhere behind him making lewd comments about the muzzle he’s apparently been threatened with. Shifting to take his own weight has all the officers around Ryan stiffening, but all he does is ask for the time, chortling to himself at the way it makes them flinch.

The weapons pat-down is rough. Even the cops know Gavin’s not really in the hands-on half of the crew, aren’t expecting much more than maybe a knife or two, certainly aren’t expecting the arsenal they uncover. Gavin has knives in his pant pockets and shirt pockets and jacket pockets, he has knives in his belt, tucked into his shoe, sewn into linings. There’s so many knives the officers quickly roll from smug superiority into increasing alarm; it borders on comical, on intentional, and Free’s careless grin only grows.  

Ryan though, god. On Ryan they find nothing, not a gun, not a knife, not even wire or nail-file; absolutely nothing. It should be a relief but it isn’t, how can it be when there’s no way the Vagabond is actually unarmed? When history has taught them that they surely must have missed something. Ryan bears the increasingly frustrated search with exaggerated compliancy, lips twitching in amusement as Gavin sniggers beside him, the mercenary entirely unresisting yet still exuding an insufferable degree of cheerful insolence.

When one man tries to get a rise out of him by sneering out some less than savoury comments about Gavin and his prison prospects the whole room holds its breath, bracing for a sudden act of unstoppable violence, but it doesn’t come. Instead, after a long tense moment of Ryan staring the man directly in the eye, it’s Gavin who breaks the silence, shaking his head and looking far too pleased as he shrugs and sends chills down spines with a cavalier ‘Well that was rude. I do hope your affairs are in order, this one’s really rather overprotective.’ The extended weapons frisk is declared over rather quickly after that.

The pair are placed in cells on opposite ends of the station’s holding bay; with walls and doors between them there is absolutely no way legible sound could possible travel between the two. To the disturbed awe of an increasing crowd of officers watching and listening over the cctv the pair proceeded to have a complete conversation at normal talking volume anyway; speaking and responding as though they can hear one another, with appropriate pauses and logical replies, never acknowledging that anything is out of the ordinary. It’s alarming enough that they are frisked again on their way to separate interrogation rooms but no hidden transmitters are found and no one has any idea how on earth they were doing it.

You don’t go into an interrogation room armed, that’s just police policy 101, but particular precautions are certainly made for members of the FAHC. Ryan is just about as chained as he could be, handcuffs locked to the table, leg cuffs chained to the floor, and still, as long as there are detectives in the room with him two heavily armed guards will wait just outside the door for the first sign of trouble. On the flipside Gavin, whose teeth are still stained red, bears only handcuffs and a delighted grin. There are no armed guards, the detectives have no fear about leaning into his space, but after the first few are left shell-shocked with their personal secrets dragged into the light there is a serious discussion about getting the LSPD’s in-house psychologist on standby.

For the first half of Ryan’s interrogation he says nothing at all. The detectives, all over the moon about finally nabbing the Vagabond, all desperate to show they’re the one who can crack him, throw just about every interrogation trick in the book at him and Ryan just watches on calm as you please, only moving to look up at the clock on the wall. When at last he does open his mouth the relief is short-lived; carefully meandering around confessions Ryan talks in hypotheticals and television plotlines, discussing supposedly fictional violence in such vivid detail his interviewers start looking a little green. It’s quite a talent, to balance technical innocence with an undercurrent of undeniably remorseless responsibility, all while casually discussing the fascinating sounds humans make when they are pulled apart.  

In another room Gavin slouches in his metal chair like it’s a throne, like the worst kind of entitled, like the grown-up version of the trust-fund baby sneering at the principle’s threat of discipline, utterly untouchable and he knows it. All grinning swagger Gavin asks the detectives if they’ve thought this through, if they know what they’re doing, how they think it’s going to end. He asks if they haven’t heard all those terrible rumours people have spread about his family, shares a few of his favourites, the darkest and most deplorable things people have said about the Vagabond. Isn’t it funny? Could you even imagine if the stories were true? If that was the kind of man you’d captured? Can you picture what he would do to you when he got free? And that’s saying nothing of Ramsey, have you heard what they say he’s done for his family? What he’d do for his son? Chilling stuff that, terrifying. Especially for someone like you, with kids at home. Someone who’d just gotten married, who has reliant parents, who’s sister’s about to have that baby. Wouldn’t it be awful huh? Aren’t you glad they’re only stories.

It’s late by the time the detectives give up for the night, but there is an undeniable sense of relief in locking those two away again, in washing hands of those horrors for a couple of hours, going home to hug loved ones close and stave off technicolour nightmares. To kick things off at midnight is appallingly cliché, but things kick off a midnight. The station is never empty, particularly not when it’s housing criminals this high profile, but at midnight everything goes quiet. Still. Just long enough for every officer’s well-honed instincts to start blaring in alarm. And then the screaming starts.

When the bigwigs try to piece it all together later even frantic reviews of security footage won’t reveal what happened. They see Gavin’s cell suddenly go dark, and when the light returns he’s gone. Changing angles there’s a flash of him wandering down the hall, utterly unhurried and blowing a winking kiss at the camera before it flickers out. When they find him again it’s on the camera outside the Vagabond’s cell, leaning through the bars and chattering away to the Mercenary looming on the other side as calmly as you please, like they’re playing instead of launching an escape.

Free’s in no rush, waiting for his crew-mate to grab his collar and yank him into the bars before he laughs and shakes his way free, finally trotting over to unlock the door, unleashing the Vagabond into the hall. As Gavin turns to answer the phone he shouldn’t have the Vagabond looks up, directly at the lens, shaking his head as he points to an imaginary watch before flipping off the camera just before it, too, goes dark.

From there the LSPD have only witness accounts to work with, tales from those who survived and those who came in after; the ones who saw the cavalcade of big black cars pulling up in front of the station just before everything went to hell, who didn’t have the chance to raise the alarm before the FAHC were raining bullets down on them. Those who had to clean blood from linoleum, tape up shattered windows, carry bodies to the morgue. Those who can no long bear the sound of clocks ticking, who swear they can still hear the echoes of that monstrous laughter. The ones who witnessed death slinking through the station in a leather jacket and designer jeans, who observed the birth of Los Santos’ newest horrifying rumour firsthand.

this is literally 1,500 words of andreil almost-fluff based on this text post by @foxxhole​. i’d apologize except i’m not really sorry :-) 

here it is on ao3.


Neil opened his eyes slowly to a sun-filled room. It was bright out, clearly past his usual rising hour, and for a moment it worried him. For that moment he didn’t recognize the room; couldn’t name the country he was waking up in, let alone the city. It was natural to force the panic to settle by looking around the room, picking up specific memories from objects placed strategically in view of the bed. As Neil scanned, forcing himself to breathe normally, the world pieced itself back together again in front of his tired eyes.

On the dresser at the far end of the room was a framed photo of the Foxes’ first championship win, Neil’s first year on a Class I team. From there his eyes drifted slowly to the the bedside table, where there was a familiar set of keys – the keys to the house in Columbia – placed close to him for this exact reason. Just above, hanging on the adjacent wall, was Neil’s jersey from his first professional Exy team, when he played for New York. At the end of the bed was a cat, Sir, and the memory of taking him home rose to the surface of Neil’s mind. The last movement was a natural progression. It was instinct that came from going over this same list every morning.

But when Neil rolled over to check the other side of the bed, it was missing. The last piece had been removed from the board before Neil could manage to finish the puzzle. He looked back at Sir, at the end of the bed, and it was almost ridiculous how long it took his mind to finally make the connection.

Andrew wasn’t beside him.

Instinct told him to panic. A feeling of dread washed over Neil’s body like a tsunami devastates a city.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Would you be open to writing something with Mulder helping Scully with something wonderfully domestic long before they become involved? Like moving house, fixing the sink, paining the apartment...UST!

I absolutely loved this prompt - thank you so much, anon! I hope you like it. Set between Redux and Detour. 

Tagging @fictober and @today-in-fic

“Mulder, what are you doing this weekend?“ There is no reason to be nervous, Scully reminds herself as she presses the phone against her ear and winds the cord tightly around her finger. It’s just Mulder.

"Not much. Shoot some hoops, maybe. Why, do you have any tantalizing x-files lying around, Scully?" He chuckles at his own, really not so funny, joke. 

"No, I could just use your… help. For something.” The cord bites into her skin leaving a red mark. Scully considers hanging up the phone and claiming she was high on painkillers. 

“My help? Always, Scully. What do you need me to do?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Scully, come on. What is it?”

“I need to paint my bedroom and the doctor said I should refrain from strenuous activities so-”

“He’s right, Scully. You’re barely out of the hospital. I’ll gladly help you, but don’t you think it’s too soon?” Scully gnaws on her lip. That’s exactly what her mother said, too. If it were up to her, Scully would spend the next few weeks or even months in a bed recuperating. Having ditched certain death, all Scully wants is to do things. Live. Because it’s the one thing she thought she’d never get to do again. She beat cancer. Clearly, she can paint her bedroom.

“I’m fine, Mulder.” He groans in frustration on the other end of the line. “I really am. I know I have to take it slowly and I’m doing that. I just need to paint that wall.” He is quiet for a moment, a tell-tale sign that he’s thinking. Scully imagines him licking his lips trying to come up with the right words. She is not ready to spill her secret just yet. The reason why the paint job can’t wait.

“What time should I come over?”

*

Saturday morning and the hardware store is crowded. Mulder listlessly pushes their cart along the broad aisles and she has to grab it a few times to prevent a collision with another cart or person.

“You didn’t tell me we still had to buy the paint.” Mulder sounds like a moody child and Scully is about to tell him to stop being such a baby when he abruptly comes to a standstill. It’s too late to stop herself from crashing into him.

“Mulder, what!”

“Scully, look at this,” her eyes follow Mulder’s pointing finger, “what do you think?" 

"It’s cut lumber, Mulder.” He nods, staring at the cut pieces and panels as if they were extraterrestrial entities. Scully briefly wonders when Mulder has last stepped foot in a hardware store. Or if he ever has.

“I could build you a new kitchen cabinet.” His voice is more excited about that prospect than it should be.

“Nothing is wrong with my kitchen cabinet, Mulder. I am very happy with my furniture. What we need is paint.” She tugs at his sleeve and he starts moving again. As if she’d ever let Mulder alone with a hammer and nails. They spend enough time in and out of hospitals as it is. 

They make it to the paint aisle without further disruption. Mulder stares at Scully, at the colors and back at her. 

“I think I should stick with white. What do you think, Mulder?" 

"You really don’t want to ask me about colors.” Mulder’s finger traces a soft aquatic color and then turns to her. There’s a soft, almost shy smile on his face. “Reminds me of your eyes. But uhm, that’s probably not the color you want in your bedroom.” He clears his voice. Scully, touched yet slightly embarrassed, lets his comment slide and moves on to the whites. 

“Silver Feather or Morocco Sand.” She mumbles, examining the colors closely.

“Scully, it’s the same color. They’re both white!”

“No, they’re not. Look,” Scully is interrupted by another couple, matching grins and clothes, apparently hoping for some advice, “the Morocco Sand is a touch darker.”

“Silver Feather works great in bedrooms,” the woman tells them with a wink, “reflects the morning sunlight just beautifully.”

“I think I want Morocco Sand, Mulder.” Scully mumbles quickly and pushes Mulder to get the cans. The couple keeps moving to the reds and Scully takes a deep breath. 

“Are you sure, Scully? I think Silver Feather looks really nice.”

“You just said they looked the same!”

“I was wrong. Let’s buy Silver Feather." She doesn’t object.

*

Scully feels as if she’s in a movie. In one of Mulder’s videos that aren’t his. She watches as Mulder, shirtless and with low-riding jeans, moves the furniture in her bedroom. Moaning from the physical exertion. The play of his back muscles as he puts protective plastic on the ground is mesmerizing. 

"Should we get started?" He stands in front of the naked wall, hands on his hips. Scully nods, her mouth slightly open. Water. She needs a glass of water. Ice cold. 

"Do you- are you thirsty, Mulder?”

“Oh yeah.” He basically groans. Scully walks into the kitchen, heat following her, and when she pours the glasses, Mulder is suddenly close behind. Scully almost lets go of the glass but quickly recovers and pushes it into his hands. Her fingers brush against his hot, naked chest. Mulder gulps down the water and grins at her.

“Let’s get this paint on the wall, Scully.”

It turns out Mulder puts as much energy into painting a wall as he does in everything else he considers important. She tried to help but Mulder makes her take a break every five minutes. ‘I’ve got this, Scully,’ he told her, ‘sit down and relax. You can watch and criticize.’ She tries to find fault in his brush strokes, but he seems to know what he’s doing. So instead Scully looks for her old radio, dusts it off, and soon soft music fills the room. Whenever a song comes on Mulder likes, he starts whistling, badly. Then Elvis starts singing. Mulder lets go of the pain brush, turns to Scully who sits cross-legged on the plastic, half reading a medical journal. Mulder offers her his hand.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” She laughs.

“Just one dance, Scully. Please. It’s Elvis!” She puts her hand in his, convinced. Small drops of paint are splattered on his arms and his chest. His still very naked chest. Scully loses herself in the warmth of his skin, the feel of his muscles. Her thin cotton shirt is the only barrier between their chests, barely there at all. Her hands are on his back, skin touching skin. 

“Hmm, you gotta love Elvis.” Mulder croons into her ear, his hands on her back drawing small circles. She wishes she’d put on a bit more weight already. He must be able to feel her ribs against his fingertips. Scully makes a mental note to have a big lunch, maybe something with fries. Mulder, she is certain, won’t need to be convinced.

The melody picks up and Mulder doesn’t miss a beat, twirls them around. He laughs at her and the sound is so infectious that she giggles, hides her face against his chest. Suddenly he dips her and Scully squeals. Her eyes, upside down, land on that spot on the wall. She one she wanted to forget. The one that started the whole thing. The music stops, Scully stands upright, tries not to let Mulder see her change in mood.

“Scully? Are you all right? Are you dizzy? I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Mulder. That’s not…” Scully stares at the wall again. The smallest imperfection in a sea of white. 

“What is it?” His voice is soft and she knows the exact moment he sees it. Mulder crouches down, the plastic rustling under him. He touches his finger to the spot, now a pale, distorted orange color. Scully hugs herself, feeling cold. 

“What… what…” But Mulder doesn’t finish his sentence, whatever it is.

“One night,” Scully takes a deep breath, “one night my nosebleed was so bad. I didn’t see anything. It was everywhere. I crashed into the wall, I think, trying to get to the bathroom. I didn’t see the blood on the wall until later and then it was too late." 

"Oh Scully." 

"I didn’t want to look at it anymore. Be reminded of it. I know it’s stupid but-”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all.” Mulder picks up the paint brush and dips it into the can. Then he hands it to Scully. Soft white droplets drip to the floor as he waits for her to take it. Her hand is unreasonably shaky as she reaches for it. Mulder doesn’t let go and she eyes him, a questioning look on her face.

“Let’s start a new chapter, huh?” He asks her. Scully nods and together they paint over the blood, over the past until it shimmers silvery white and new.

kookiieloveer7  asked:

So when I watched the "Love Yourself" new video, I scrolled down the comments and saw this one ignorant girl who commented ' I hate the girls. I don't want the love yourself concept i want the youth concept because its better. The girls should never be included in bts mv's. Bighit please change this i dont like it.'. What do you think? Btw love your artstyle it's amazing. Keep it up love you!❤

Thank you so much!💟💟

So this is my opinion so please don’t take it personally;; if we dont agree its alright;;

I think we need to make a difference between the ARMYs who dont like the girls because “they are close to them” and the people who say they dont like the new plot.
I’m waiting to see all the videos to have my final opinion on the matter but for the moment I’m really really confused. Like @atramin told me, I dont want a “if someone loves you, you can love yourself”, and I really hope they wont do that;;;;
I think the reason why a lot of people didn’t really like the video and the new plot, is not because of the girls, but because they dont know what to expect. Its really different from what we used to. You see, the BST & Short Films were really different from HYYH but it really fit the theme. But I feel like this video doesnt really fit, at least for the moment, maybe it will change after. Love is a big part of youth, maybe thats why they wanted to to exploit this subject, but right now with this video, I don’t think it fits well. So I’m really confused.
I believe that some ARMYs didnt like how Big Hit used the roles of the girls, not the girls, but their roles in the story. But I also think we need to wait to until the last video to give our final opinion. I dont hate it, I dont like it, I just want Big Hit to surprise all of us.
Theres one thing that I dont really like about this anymore and its totally personal. What I liked about HYYH, WINGS and YNWA is that we could totally have our own interpretation of the story. “Is this about girls and guys? Guys and guys? Friendships? Love? Who knows” and I think it was one of the biggest charms of the serie. Everyone could identify with the serie at some point, and I dont think its the case for many of us anymore, even for me. But again i dont know what to expect and maybe they will exploit the plot in a good way.

So really its not the girls that I didnt like, they were really amazing, its more about how they used their roles in the serie.
Also if you didnt like the video its totally ok. Its not because you didnt like something that you dont like BTS. We all can have a critical look on everything and I think its way more interresting than the “ i love everything bts does bc its bts”. But again its just my opinion on the matter;; Im pretty sure a lot of ARMYs dont feel this way!

Press Play

FINALLY! The next one-shot in the klance YouTuber AU! The next thing I post probably won’t be a part of this AU since I work on a ton of stuff and I still need to finish a lot of it, but I wanted to post this today as a thank you!

I’m not going to link the other one-shots, just know that from now on these one-shots will be tagged with ‘klance youtuber au’ on my tumblr. The series can be found on my AO3 here.

This one is how Lance and Keith first met!! Most of the one-shots in this AU are gonna be entirely fluff, unlike the last one, but who knows? I’ll probably find a way to incorporate more angst at some point. I hope you guys like it!


Keith hated crowds, and he knew he always would. The feeling of being in a space that wasn’t quite big enough for all the people in it made him extremely uncomfortable, especially since he always felt everyone was staring at him, for some reason. Talking to one person he didn’t know was bad enough, but being surrounded by them? A nightmare, as far as he was concerned.

Stupid VidCon. Stupid Shiro and his stupid, stupid YouTube channel. Why would anyone want to document their life on video for an audience, anyway? Sometimes Keith wondered how they were even friends.

And it didn’t help that he was completely, hopelessly, lost. The directions Shiro had given him made absolutely no sense! Apparently he was supposed to ‘look for where Allura’s selling makeup’, but Keith didn’t know who Allura was, much less where she sold her line of 'limited-addition lipsticks.’ The only thing he knew about Allura was that at some point she’d taught Shiro how to successfully do winged eye-liner, and now he wore it all the time.

Keith sighed, and looked back down at the notepad in his hand, with the list of Shiro’s instructions for where to go. They still didn’t help. And, to make matters worse, Keith forgot to look where he was going, and bumped straight into someone else.

Keep reading

Reggie Mantle x Reader: PART THREE: Undercover Serpent

Request: No. My idea. 😇


A/N: Hey it’s me again. Sorry for being gone for so long blame my mental health lol. Anyways I had this written up, but now thanks to the new episodes I fixed it up and am actually pretty proud of it even though its super long. What can I say I love dialogue.


Words: 2077


Summary: Reader has a new threat in her life and they won’t let her secret go that easily. 

 
Spoilers: I introduce the magnificent Sweet Pea and Toni into this fic because I’m in love and I can lol.


Warnings: Some tension between Sweet Pea and the reader, why? because yes.

Part One Part Two

Shock is what you feel as you open your locker. It can’t be. Your Southside Serpent jacket is inside but how could it? You had just worn it last night to hang out with the gang. How could it possibly be in your locker?


Who knew your secret and why are they playing this mind game with you?


You snatched it so fast and stuffed in your backpack.


Startled by his touch you jumped as your back closed your locker.


“Hey you okay?” Reggie chuckled.

“Sorry not a great night” you lied.


Was it him? You thought. Did he only get close to you to get back at you or the serpents? No you’re just being paranoid, everything that has happened is just making you paranoid. It couldn’t be him, sure you didn’t know everything about him; but what you did know is that he wouldn’t do anything to you.


“Earth to (Y/N/N)” you smiled at your nickname coming out of his mouth.

Its only because you’re talking to the dead kid best friend your mind eerily reminded you.


“Right” you mumbled under your breath.


“Right what?” he gave you a confused look.


“Oh uh nothing” you rubbed your eyes.


The bell rings for first period and you decide against it, you have to tell Joaquin about this. You finally have proof someone is after you and not just your weird sixth sense he teases you for.  


“You coming?” Reggie breaks you out of your thoughts.


“I think I’ll head to the nurse first” you hated lying but you had to leave.


“Okay, feel better” he smiled as he stepped into class.


You feel someone stare and yet again their eyes are nowhere to be found.
___
“Joaquin?” you opened the door to your trailer.


“Did you get a note too?” Joaquin scanned your eyes as he held a paper in the air, you would never leave school before it even started without having a purpose.

“What does your note say?” You asked him your blood boiling because even though Joaquin is older and he can most definitely take care of himself, you would kill anyone who even dare lay a hand on him.


The note read:


Secrets in Riverdale don’t stay secrets…


“My Serpent jacket was in my locker” you breathed “someone knows about me, and someone got in our home” worry flooding your eyes.


“That’s impossible” Joaquin insisted in denial about the whole thing.


“Well it happened!” you took your jacket out of your backpack “this proves what I’ve been telling you about someone following me.”


“Nothing’s going to happen to you, you have all of us” he hugged you “We’ll tell FP”


“FP will probably just think it’s The Ghoulies or something and we can’t have a gang war JD” you countered.

“Well we can ask Sweet Pea or Toni if they know anything about this” He rubbed his hand on your back trying to calm you down.


“You think they’d help?” you questioned your brother.


“You’re still a Serpent (Y/N/N), Whether or not go to school with them; they need to get over the fact that you go to school with the preppies. Now go back to school, well figure everything out afterwards” he reassured you as it was still morning and you’d never miss a school day.


__
“How was the nurse?” Reggie asked during lunch.


“Oh you know I got a vitamin and she let me crash there for a while” you lied taking a bite of your food.


“Hey so uh I was hoping you could maybe help me with some of my homework after practice” he hinted wanting to spend more time with you and you wanted to say yes but you had to get to middle of the whole secret misfortune.


“Sorry Reg I have some things to take care of at home, maybe some other time.” You reached to his hand and rubbed his palm with your thumb.


“Hey (Y/N) sorry to interrupt, but we got a quick newspaper meeting right now” Jughead revealed while in between eating a bag of chips as you stood up and left Reggie to re-connect with his teammates.
__
The school day came to end and you and Joaquin were on your way to meet Toni and Sweet Pea in a serpent hang out.


“What brings you back to this side of the tracks (Y/N)?” Sweet Pea scowls.


“I live here dumbass” you spat back.


“What do you need?” Toni smiles.

“Has anyone talked too much about Jason’s murder? Speaks an awful lot about (Y/N) not coming to school here.” Joaquin asks.


“Well nobody here cares about Jason” Sweet Pea chuckles.


“And if anyone feels betrayed about you not coming to school here it’s just SP” Toni comments.


“Didn’t know you cared so much SP” he scoffed at your comment as Toni motioned Joaquin to move away from the both of you.


“Why are you a serpent?” He deflected.


“You know my story Sweet Pea, so why the attitude, I doubt you have anything to do with this” you redirect the conversation.


“Have you considered the fact that you’re secret is not really a secret, the whole Southside knows about you, who knows maybe even The Ghoulies have a thing for you” Sweet Pea spoke with a very intense eyes.


“But why? They wouldn’t dare not with FP around” you challenged his statement.


“Oh c’mon (Y/N), you’re a serpent, FPs favorite, you live here; but you go to school with the Northside kids and now maybe with the quarterback? Maybe they got someone out there too” Sweet Pea hinted at you.


“Not dating Reggie SP, but why does all of that matter?” you pried for more information.


“You got everything we don’t. You’re not all in, but we still got your back because otherwise FP would kill us” Sweet Pea raised an eyebrow at you.


“I’m sorry” you went up to hug him you were always sorry for leaving them behind.


“We’re here for you, I hope you know that” he hugged back.


The hug was an indication that it was finally okay for Toni and Joaquin to walk back to you guys.


“If someone is doing this, why not just go to Jughead or straight the source?” Toni asked as if she was part of the conversation all along.


“Jughead is not a serpent, and I am maybe that’s the connection” you pointed out.


“So they’re after serpents?” Toni and Sweet Pea spoke in unison.


“Well I did receive a note, if they’re watching (Y/N) they’d know to leave the note with the jacket; I mean I am dating the Sheriffs son” Joaquin recounted.


“We gotta talk to FP then” Sweet Pea declared.


“I gotta meet someone, tell me how it goes” you notified them.
__

“Hey Mantle” you arrived just a little bit after football practice ended because with all that was going on you didn’t know what was going to happen, but wanted to hang out with him “thought I’d take you up on that offer” he smiled.


“How about Pops first, I’m starving” you nodded.


“As long as your buying” you teased which made him chuckle “guess practice really does take it out on you guys huh” he opens the door to his car for you.


“We play to win” he winked at you.


“Are you trying to impress me?” you held your hand on chest pretending to be shocked.


“It’s Mantle the Magnificent for you, and is it working?” he grinned and you giggled at his nickname.


That night was great you guys talked so much it was as if you had known each other for so many years. You hadn’t received any notes, any threats, you no longer felt the lingering stares, and so you thought maybe it was over maybe they just wanted to give you a good scare.
__

You started to hang out more with Reggie after practice you’d meet up at Pops. Reggie made his crush known, but what you really needed right now was a friend that wasn’t a Southside Serpent so you’d shoot him down even though you you’d want nothing more than to call him your boyfriend.


You were both sat in your regular booth in Pops when the rest of the gang decided to sit with you guys. The only one missing was Kevin which you assumed was spending his time with Joaquin.


It was then the bell rang indicating someone just entered pops and it revealed a very disheveled Kevin.


“Joaquin is missing” was all he could let out as he caught his breath, all eyes were on him so no one could see the worry in your eyes.


“What do you mean?” Veronica asked “I thought you guys had a standing Thursday date” which you knew about and you didn’t want to show panic. It couldn’t be he was just home this morning.


“Some guys jumped us, he started to fight them and they just took him away” he cried “and I can’t tell the cops because then my dad will find out and he wouldn’t care about a serpent” and you wanted to run and find your brother, but you couldn’t Kevin’s words kept running through your mind. He wasn’t wrong the cops didn’t give a shit about gang members.


You phone rang “I got to get this sorry” you interrupted and went outside to take your call.


“Toni please tell me it’s not true” you asked with a straight face.


“Sweet Pea and I are gonna meet you in the trailer park” was all she said before she hung up.


Reggie had stepped out to of the diner while everyone else was comforting Kevin.


“Everything okay?” Reggie asked.


No everything is not okay Reggie, Joaquin is missing! He’s my brother! He’s all I got!


“Grandpa wants me to go home” you lied once again.


“When will I ever get to meet them?” he asked with a smile that darn smile that made you melt.


“Soon” you answered pulled him for a hug and pecked his cheek before you mounted your bike and rode away.


Reggie could still feel your hug and your soft lips on your cheek and he only wondered what they’d feel like on his lips.
__
The whole ride home the tears just started coming out and you couldn’t control them and you were afraid they wouldn’t stop.


“What happened?!” you tried to keep your composure as Sweet Pea, Toni and FP looked at you with such concern in their eyes.


“They sent me a lock of his hair” FP answered and a note that said a new message will arrive soon.


The tears they kept on coming out, someone had your brother and you weren’t going down without a fight.


“Were gonna stay with you until a new message arrives” Toni pulled you in for a hug.


“So were not gonna do anything!” you were fuming.


“(Y/N) we-” you cut Sweet Pea off.


“The cops aren’t gonna look, and were just going to wait” you snapped.


“Little snake we can’t do anything, we have no idea where he is and who has him” FP he handed you the note with his hair.
__
It was 3 am when you woke up to your phone ringing and Sweet Pea was asleep on the couch and Toni was with you.


“Hello” you answered the unknown number.


“If you don’t want any harm to your brother reveal yourself to the school, wear the jacket with pride” the voice in the other line hung up.


“Who was that?” SP asked.


“They want me to wear my Serpent jacket to school or they’ll do something to JD” you croaked which woke Toni up.


“You can’t do that” the black haired serpent spoke with such guilt in his voice.


“I can’t let them do anything to him, he’s all I got” Toni pulled you in for a small hug.


“What did they sound like? Did you recognize the voice?” Toni asked.


“No they used that weird distorted sound effect like in the movies” you clarified.


You hated always saying this because obviously you have FP, Sweet Pea, Toni and you don’t know for how long you now have Reggie. Although you can’t lose Joaquin especially not to psychos like the ones messing with you.


“Promise me you guys won’t tell FP, he can’t know or else he won’t let me do it” the other two serpents nodded.


You announced that you were heading back to sleep because tomorrow was going to be a big day.

___

Part Four
___
TAGS: @sgarrett49 @casual-ellipsoidal @isis278 @stxrmqueen @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @toofuckingfabulous @bugheadedarchie @rawrxbexjealous @oharchiekinz @forsythependletonjonestheiii @maraaguilera1d @flopmalum @mirajanestrauss1999 @vodkaluh @cece-daughter-of-pitch-black @shadowmaiden1618

Don't Listen To Them... (Liam Dunbar imagine)

Originally posted by unconditionalloveandunicornspawn

Request: write one about Liam with a plus size Reader who’s very self conscious and they meet because he saves her from getting bullied

Warning(s): bullying, cussing, and i think that’s it also sorry if your name is Rebecca (the bully) I just thought of a random name.

DISCLAIMER: Rebecca is the bully and (Y/N) is the reader. just to clear that up

NOTE: Sorry if it’s short and i just want to say you are all amazing and beautiful in your own unique way and keep doing you and what you love to do. 

Also if you see someone getting bullied, please do something or tell someone. Be nice to them, don’t make fun of them for their weight, looks, etc. Cause the reason why I put Liam to say “You wouldn’t like it if someone said those things to you” is because it’s true, no one ever does so please just be nice to people and be careful about what you say.


I sighed as I walked up to the entrance of the school, maybe today will be a good day. I take a deep breathe in and exhaled as soon and I opened the doors to Beacon Hills High. I ignored all the looks I get from certain people and held my head up high while walking down the halls to get to my locker.

I look around before opening my locker and exchanged things from my backpack to my locker, ‘so far so good’ I think to myself while closing my locker but instantly regret what I thought.

I came face to face with Rebecca aka Beacon Hills High Queen Bitch. Even though she was a bitch she was still prettier than me and I couldn’t help but believe all things she has said to me.

“Oh hey (Y/N), I would say I didn’t see you there but that would be a total lie, you’re too big to miss” Rebecca says smirking while her kiss up minions were laughing behind her. “Leave me alone Rebecca” I say pushing past her and walked to class and found my seat.

Unfortunately, I had my first class and lunch with Rebecca and her stupid minions. Everyone was already in class and as soon as she came in the room it got quiet and awkward because no one wanted to mess with her and her friends and no one was going to address her and her friends about the way they act.

“What’s up with the elephant in the room? And I’m not talking about the tension in here, I’m talking about (Y/N)” Rebecca comments and everyone looks at me while I hide my face waiting for class to be over.


Class was quickly over and I walked out of the room but before I knew it I tripped. I hear Rebecca laugh and some other students laugh along with her. “Watch where you’re walking fatty, are you too big to even see where you’re feet are walking?” Rebecca questions.

I quickly get up and turn to her, “Fuck you Rebecca” I spat and walked away while hearing her yell, “Better watch your back (Y/N)!”. Soon lunch rolled around and I sat with my friend Taylor but she got up to go to the library. I got up to buy water from outside at the vending machine before being shoved to the ground, “God I’m surprised I’m able to push you considering you’re too heavy” the voice says as I look up to see Rebecca looking down at me. I looked around to see a few people around us laughing.

I stood up and looked at her, “I’m sick of your bullshit, leave me alone”. Rebecca laughs, “Sorry no can do” she replies. “You’re such a fucking bitch” I add. Rebecca chuckles and then suddenly my face was stinging and I grabbed the side of my face holding it from the pain and in shock.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that again (Y/N). I rather be a bitch than a fat ass because news flash no guy would ever want to date you. You’re just too ugly and you’re not skinny like me, you’re just a cow” my eyes started to water from the words that came out of her mouth.

“Hey!” someone shouted, interrupting Rebecca before she could say anything else. We both turn to see a boy our age with brown hair and blue eyes and I knew who exactly it was. Liam Dunbar. The boy I had most of my classes with and the boy who was always hanging out with Scott and the rest of his friends.

Rebecca smiles, “Hey Liam, how are you?” she asks flirtatiously. 

Liam rolled his eyes, “I’d be better if you treated (Y/N) like a human being and not make fun of her. I think she’s absolutely beautiful just the way she is. She’s kind hearted, funny, and stunning. She’s not a cow, she’s perfect the way she is, if she likes how she looks then that’s good, but she shouldn’t have to deal with people like all of you who make fun of her. Because deep down I know you all wouldn’t like it if someone said things to you like that.” Liam spoke. 

Everyone was quiet and Rebecca went to speak again, “Yeah, well-” but gets cut off by Liam. “Oh and news flash no one likes a stuck up bitch who makes fun of other girls because they think it makes them look good” Liam states smirking and everyones eyes were wide and they all whispered. 

“All go you get out of here” Liam spats and Rebecca wanted to speak again but had no words and just walked away. 

Liam walked up to me, “Hey (Y/N) are you okay?” I nod my head yes. He checked again to make sure and we were going our separate ways. 

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face his back, “Hey Liam” he turns around to look at me, “Yeah?”.

“Why?” I ask confused, “Why what?” he questions. 

“Why did you stand up for me? We barely talk to each other.” I comment.

“Because that’s not right what she did, and I know but I’ve always thought you were beautiful” he explains.

“You don’t have to pretend like you like me” I stated. Liam looks at me and walks up to me, “I’m not pretending (Y/N), everything I said was true, especially about me thinking you’re beautiful, I’ve liked you since freshmen year but was too scared to talk to you” he confesses. “Don’t listen to them (Y/N), you’re perfect the way you are. (Y/N) I want to show you the world and show you all the things you really deserve and I want to be there for you and just protect you and I know a lot of stuff happened today but would you like to go on a date with me?”.

I quickly hug him and peck him on the cheek and he blushes, “What was that for?” he asked. “For caring and yes I’d love to go on a date with you Liam Dunbar” I answer.

Work Perks

Summary: Working at a bar definitely had its perks. One of these just so happens to be seeing the same cute guy every so often. Too bad Dan can’t seem to get his number.

Genre: College AU, Bartender!Dan, Art Student!Arin, Fluff, Humor, Egobang, Rubberdoop

Warnings: alcohol mentions

A/N: No one asked but here it is anyway. 3500+ words of guys being dorks and fluff and fun and even a little jealous!dan thrown in for fun. I don’t know what the fuck inspired this or why it exists, but I love it. So here you go. Enjoy.



Working at a bar had its perks.

Dan wasn’t the biggest fan of the drunk flirting, overly suggestive glances at his crotch, or the slurred insistence that he’d look even better naked, but it did have perks.

Keep reading

Impatient - Doyoung (M)

Requested: Hello can I request smut where you wake Doyoung up in the morning with oral n he’s all whiny n needy??? (There shoulf be lots of dirty talk too.) Pretty please with a cherry on top.
Requested: hi!!!!!!!! i think your requests are open? we all really need some more doyoung scenarios! could you write something fluffy and or slightly smutty? ?
Requested: Sub!Doyoung???😩😩😍😍😍💦
Requested: i need a sub doyoung smut. i’m deprived.
Requested: Please do more smuts for doyoung T.T [i like wall sex and this kind of stuff if it helps you]
Requested: Heyyyy! Can i please request a doyoung smut!! anything would be fine because i want my baby to get more love ;;

A/N: If you read the title thinking this some dom!doyoung you have cum to the wrong place lmao-
I can’t help but picture Doyoung as a kinda a pest as a sub. He would be rather childish I think and stubborn until he got the attention he needed of course, willing to abide your every command, except in this case…
P.S. There is no intercourse, more like only Doyoung’s needs are satisfied…
Requests are still closed by the way - Admin Finn

**ADULT CONTENT AHEAD**

Word Count: 548

Originally posted by nyutas



Lithe fingers stroked through your hair gently. Softly, Doyoung whispered your name, his lips tracing over the shell of your ear. You hummed in question as he pressed closer.

“Can you help me?”

You mumbled in response quietly, lulling back to sleep.

He whined lowly as you dismissed him, finding comfort in the warm sheets.
Silently, he stared at the mundane ceiling, the constricting room making him shift suddenly. He glanced at you before slowly moving his sly hand beneath the sheets.
He let out a gentle sigh as he found his aching length.

“Please-” he begged quietly, finding his grasp unsatisfactory.

You stirred under the covers, reaching behind clumsily. Your hand met his rigid hip before gliding down to brush his length. You gasped as you felt how hard he was, looking over your shoulder hesitantly. His pleading gaze met your own, his member throbbing desperately.
Carefully, you lifted the sheets, crawling under them stealthily. He cursed lowly as you crawled between his legs, your hot breath ghosting over his erection.
Your small hand grasped his lithe length, slowly stroking him languidly. His breath quickened, his eyes closing.
You chuckled before gliding your tongue over his sensitive slit carelessly. He fisted the sheets, his muscles tensing in anticipation. You gripped the base of his slender length with ease, taking his swollen head into your mouth. Lazily, you dipped your head, taking more of him between your slick lips. You stalled, teasing his taut sac softly.
You drew back, hollowing your cheeks slowly. He writhed beneath the sheets, groaning in protest.

“Stop teasing me-” he breathed, bucking his hips suddenly.

You coughed, withdrawing your lips from his stiff member. You threw the sheets from yourself, your fierce gaze meeting his own.
He stared back at you, unwilling to surrender. Glaring, your hand left him, instead slapping his swollen length lazily.
He cried, sitting up instantly. Your hand reached up to grip his chin. His brows slowly separated themselves, his apologetic gaze making your heart melt gently.

“I’m in charge.”

He nodded in understanding, apologizing quietly. You smiled softly, pulling his lips to meet your own.

“I hate you” he murmured childishly.

You ignored him, dipping down to capture his erect length once again. His palms pressed into the firm mattress, his head falling back in awe.
You teased his leaking slit with your tongue before drawing his length between your lips.
He chanted above you quietly before moaning loudly, his thighs tensing.

“I’m close” he choked.

You drew back, your hand quickly replacing your mouth.
His voice rose with each stroke, his body tensing as he edged to his release.

Suddenly, you stopped, a loud cry of agony leaving him. His member twitched fiercely in need. He grasped his length, pumping himself vigorously.
You watched as his seed spilled from his swollen head, his brows knitting together.

He panted rhythmically as he basked in his release.
Your nose twitched in annoyance at his selfish disobedience.

“I’m sorry” he breathed, letting his head fall forward.

You ignored him, crawling back to the edge of the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
He pursed his lips, unsure of what action to take.

“I’ll be in the shower” he murmured.

“Don’t wake me up again” you mumbled, fuming to yourself quietly.


[Why did I write about slapping his dick?]

TITLE: I Think I Loaf You 
PAIRING: Connor Murphy/Evan Hansen (with some side Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy)
WORD COUNT: 2527
SUMMARY: Connor tags along to his sister’s wedding cake tasting and happens upon the most awkward, adorable baker in existence.
NOTES: I just really love The Great British Baking Show, and this is what happened. Also, a pretty soft Connor/a little ooc, but he’s also gone through some positive change, so yay? Sorry about the title. You can also read this on Ao3 here.


Connor wasn’t at all sure how he got roped into this shit, but there he was, being dragged along by his sister for a wedding cake tasting. He knew that if this was six years ago she could have held a gun to his head and he still wouldn’t have agreed to come along, but, well, they’d come a long way. Such a long way that he was apparently willing to suffer through all this pre-wedding decision making, and that she actually asked him to in the first place.

Whatever. At least he’d get to eat.

Keep reading

turn it off ~J.A

 A/N: It’s 3:30 am and I just finished this, I hope this is at least somewhat decent lmao also excuse any typos but i am too tired to actually check for mistakes. Let me know what you guys think! This features a lot of Protecitve!Corbyn

Requested: Yesss, I hope I did it justice tho (if not I am very very sorry and I am a disgrace) 

Summary: Your brother introduces you to his band and gets protective over you when Jack tries to flirt with you.

You groan as you hear a knock on your bedroom door. “5 more minutes mom” you mumble in the direction of the door. “I’m pretty sure I’m not mom, I didn’t give birth to you y/n” you hear your brother Corbyn say on the other side of the door. You mumbled something along the lines of ‘idiot’ as you see the handle of the door move and he steps into your bedroom. You put the covers further over your head pretending your brother isn’t there. “Come on sleepyhead it’s time to get up”. He pulls the covers off of your face and flashes you a big smile. “Ugh, I don’t want to get up” you whine at him rolling over to face him. “Why do I need to get up anyway? It’s not even noon yet”. 

Corbyn rolls his eyes at you before laughing and shaking his head. “I’m assuming you forgot that I was going to introduce you to my band.” You blankly stare at him for a second, you just woke up and needed a minute to properly function and process what your brother just said. “That was today?” You sit up in your bed and look at Corbyn, who’s just chuckling to himself. You shoot him a playful “Stop laughing and answer me you headass”, which earns you a “hey” followed up by a small shove. “You still didn’t answer me, bro.” Once again he rolled his eyes before answering you. “Yes, it’s today. Now go get dressed and have breakfast or you’ll still be in the shower when they get here.” You pretend to be offended at the shower comment but you’re aware you take long showers. “Who can take a shower in under 5 minutes anyway,” you think to yourself. “What time are they gonna be here Corbs?” He checks his phone to look at the time “hmm Jack said they’d be here around 2.” You nod and push him towards the door. “Okay well that gives me about 2 hours, I need to take a quick shower then and get ready.” Your brother starts laughing and chokes out a “quick shower my ass.” You try to push him out of your room while throwing him a sarcastic “don’t be rude, let me take my ‘quick’ shower.“ 

Once your brother left you got into the bathroom to get ready. After about an hour and a half, you’re dressed and almost done with your makeup. 'Almost’ as in you’re probably gonna have to do that eyeliner 3 more times because it’s not even. You sigh as you grab a makeup wipe to wipe away the eyeliner on your right eye once again. "One more time” you mumble as you try to get it to be even to the one on your left eye. When you finally managed to get the wings even after about 5 tries you go downstairs and join Corbyn on the couch to watch some tv as you wait for his band to come over. You were excited to meet the guys your brother had told you so much about and hoped you’d make a good first impression. As you thought that to yourself the doorbell rang and Corbyn got up to let the boys in. 

When your brother walked back into the living room he was joined by four other guys. One of them caught your eye, his curls were messy and he shot you a soft smile as he walked in. “Everyone this is my sister y/n.” Corbyn says as he stands next to you and swings his arm over your shoulder protectively. You hold out your hand and greet all of the boys. An hour goes by and the six of you are sitting in the living room with snacks as the guys talk about their band and tell you stories about each other and in return you tell your brothers band mates embarrassing stories about him. “Alright, alright that’s enough embarrassing stories for now sis.” You chuckle before saying “if you’d stop being an idiot I wouldn’t have this many stories bro.”

 A little while after that Jack joked about something Corbyn said the last time they had a band meeting and your brother fired right back with an embarrassing story about the curly haired boy. You chuckle and shake your head after hearing the story. “What’s it like being a headass?” you ask him playfully, expecting him to either let it slide or whine about it. But that’s not what happened, he looked you straight in the face before saying “I don’t know, what’s it like being gorgeous?” A little taken aback by his comment you stay silent for a second, unsure of what to say. But eventually manage to answer: “I… uhh.. pretty good?…thank you”. Almost immediately after that, you hear your brother speak up. “You can’t flirt with my sister Jack, she’s off limits.” His bandmates all laugh at his comment. “Actually I think they’d be cute together” you hear Daniel say. Corbyn’s eyes widen in horror as he goes “no, no, no, no I strongly disagree with that.” Both you and the boys chuckle as you look at a horrified Corbyn.

 Your brother swings his arm around you again pulling you closer into a hug and almost crushing you. He looks at the four boys in front of him and almost whispers the word “no” as a warning. “To be fair, your sister is pretty cute so I can’t help myself” you heard Jack say as you start violently blushing and he shoots you that same soft smile he gave you when he walked in. “Well stop thinking my sister is cute, Jack” your brother whined. “She is though, I can’t fight the feeling of at least flirting a little and telling her she’s pretty. Sorry bro” Corbyn is still holding you protectively and you can’t manage to get out of his grip. “Well turn the feeling off because I don’t like it.”

 You still try to escape Corbyn’s death grip and ask “Do I get a say in this?” That question earned you a deadly look from your brother. “No, you’re my sister you can’t date any of my friends, especially my bandmates.” You scoff at his comment “no offense but I can date whoever I want and who said anything about dating he just gave me a compliment.” He looks down at you and you see his eyebrows furrow as he thinks. “Still” you hear him mumble. Tired of fighting to get out of your brother’s grip you sigh loudly. “Can you please let go of me Corbyn?” You stretch out the 'please’ as he loosens his grip and looks at Jack before saying “fine” and letting you go completely. 

“But just so we’re clear, no dating.” He warns both you and Jack. You nod and Jack throws his hands up while saying “alright just compliments then.” before winking at you when Corbyn looked away. About 5 minutes after that your brother and the guys have to leave for a meeting. Jack is the last one to get out of the living room and hands you a little piece of paper with his number on it. “Don’t tell Corbyn but if you ever need a compliment, text me.” Once again you see that adorable smile that makes you weak in the knees. “Oh, believe me, he won’t hear about this.” With that he sprints out of the living room before your brother got suspicious. You look at the piece of paper and smile to yourself before saving the number in your phone. 

Reyna Writes: Not Your Choice

Here’s a fic for @miraculousblackout, addressing the concept of reposting to “share the artists’ work with others”.

Enjoy!

~Reyna


The sound of coins hitting the ground distracted Marinette from her grocery list, doubled with the large coin that hit the side of her shoe. There was muffled grumbling behind her–clearly someone was having a clumsy moment, and was not happy about it. Marinette could totally relate.

She bent down, grabbing the coin and turning around.

“Here you go.”

“Oh, thank–” The woman straightened up and paused, the shock that crossed her face echoing Marinette’s once she got a good look at the woman before her.

Ugh. And she had been having such a good day…

“…Symone,” she said, working to at least be civil (though it was more than Symone deserved), holding out the dropped coin for Symone to take. Symone sniffed, snatching the coin back as she straightened her blazer, smoothing out the sleeves as if she wished to intimidate Marinette with her expensive wardrobe.

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Hawk Moth & Nooroo, Don't Speak

I got this comment in response to one of my drabbles from yesterday:

“Oh my god… Please for the love of Kwamii PLEASE write this akuma from HMs perspective PLEASEI NEED THIS IN MY LIFE XD”

And me, being the out of control glutton that I am, said…”Ok.”

Thanks for the suggestion, AngryMuffin!



“Ah, Nooroo.  You have someone for me, then?”

“Yes, master.  But I must warn you: I do not believe that it will be an efficient use of power to take this one.”

“I will be the judge of that, thank you.  Nooroo, dark wings rise!”

“So be it…”

Hawkmoth raised his arms as the transformation took him, imbuing him with the power that he craved.   He curled his fingers into a tight fist, determined to make the most of this opportunity, no matter what the kwami said.  “Insolent bug,” he muttered.  “We shall see who is wrong, and who is victorious!”

There was an echo of skepticism from his miraculous, and he gritted his teeth.  “So who is this likely candidate?  Ahh, yes.  The joy of success tempered by the bitter disappointment that no one is around to share it.  I see great potential here.  Fly away, my little akuma, and evilise him!”

Hawkmoth watched as the deep purple butterfly fluttered to the window and away, willing it to fly faster, to reach its target with greater haste.  He felt the urge to pace, but tamped it down, forcing himself to remain still, with his hands resting calmly on the head of his cane.

His akuma would take his newest champion, and it would be the beginning of the end for Ladybug and Chat Noir.  He allowed his lips to curl into a smile.


“Bacchus, I am Hawkmoth.   I understand that congratulations are in order.  I will give you the power that ancient god, to draw all of Paris into celebration with you as you so richly deserve, but you must agree to help me in return.”

“Santé, Hawkmoth.  Let’s do it!”

The villain felt his power take the young man, transforming him from a plump, dejected young man into the god of the vine, and watched through his eyes as he made his way through the university, reducing the student body to a drunken party—whether they wished to participate or not.

As always, he watched anxiously, waiting for the other Miraculous wielders to make their appearance, to provide him with the opportunity to seize what he so desperately desired.  He was rewarded, soon enough, with the appearance of Chat Noir, and he felt his heart rate increase.

“You’re having a party, and didn’t invite me?”  The cheeky cat asked, spinning his staff with an unnecessary flourish.

“Naw, man, you’re invited!  Everyone is invited.”  He pulled a purple cup from the bottomless sleeve mounted on the cask at his back, and dispensed some of the deep red wine from the nozzle.  He held it out to Chat Noir invitingly.  “Care for a drink?”

“I’ll have to pass this time, uh—”

“Bacchus,” he supplied jovially.

“Bacchus, nice!  From the Roman pantheon, right?  I always liked him.”

“Right? Nothing like a bit of drunken debauchery when you want to kick back and celebrate something.”  He held the cup out again, wiggling it a bit.   “You sure you don’t want to partake?”

“Sorry, no drinking when I’m on the clock.”

“Well, that’s too bad then.”  He tipped the cup back and drained it himself, then pulled the nozzle from its holster and pointed it at the black-clad hero.  “I’m afraid I just can’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh shi—”  Chat dove, but it was too late.  He was caught in the spray and rendered instantly intoxicated.  His roll ended in an inelegant sprawl, and he clutched his head in confusion.

“Welcome to the party, Chat Noir!  Let me know when your girl gets here, won’t you?”  He poured himself another drink, and raised it to the confused cat.  “Santé!”

Bacchus turned from Chat Noir, and Hawkmoth shrieked in fury.  “No!  His Miraculous!  Take his ring you idiot!  He’s disarmed, this is the perfect opportunity to take his ring!”

“Nah, he’s just here for the party.  A good host would never take advantage of a drunk guest.”

Hawkmoth’s hands shook with his fury.  This was a golden opportunity, and his champion was wasting it!  “You will go back and take his Miraculous!  Now!”  He used their empathic connection to trigger pain, thinking to coerce obedience, but to his surprise the man just laughed.

“I just completed my post-grad degree while dealing with chronic migraines.  Compared to what I’ve been living with for years, that just tickles, man.”  He tipped his cup back again, draining it.  “Take a bit of advice, man.  You need to lay off this Hawkmoth thing, get lit, and get laid.  It’ll do you a world of good.”

Hawkmoth felt his jaw drop, utterly bemused by this turn of events.  He watched helplessly as his champion meandered through the university, turning it into one, big, useless party.  He considered simply recalling his akuma, but he refused to give Nooroo the satisfaction of simply giving up.  He was aware of the faint echo of amusement from his  Miraculous, but he would not acknowledge it.

It was actually a relief when Ladybug appeared out of no-where to snatch the cup away and crush it beneath her foot.  When it was over, he dismissed Nooroo from the brooch, not bothering to catch the spent kwami.   He tumbled to the floor to land amid the harmless white butterflies, and eyed his master knowingly, in spite of his exhaustion.

“Don’t speak,” the man said, refusing even to look at the kwami.  “Not a word, Nooroo.  Not.  A.  Word.”



@paganinpurple, this is a companion drabble to the one I wrote for you yesterday.  :)

(prompt list available here.)

Stiles Stilinski Imagine- Avoiding Love (Part Two)

Part1      Masterlist

“Breathe Y/n, just breathe” you whispered to yourself in the girls bathroom. Monday seemed to have come sooner than you had hoped. You had been ignoring all the missed texts Stiles had left you and you had never felt more confused in your life. “It was a mistake, you don’t like him” you said one last time before exiting the stall and making your way over to the mirror. “What’s gotten into you?” your friend asked, half concerned half amused. “I’m fine” you shrugged, while flattening your clothes out and reaching in your bag to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. “Hmmm” your friend said mysteriously, knowing something was definitely up. “Whatever. What lesson do we have first? Please don’t tell me it’s English” you winced. “Its English and I thought it was your favourite lesson, considering you’re taking AP” she furrowed her brows. “Yeah, I’m just tired” you lied as the bell went.

You began to approach the door to your classroom when you saw Stiles turn the opposite corner. You both looked up at the same time and he opened his mouth to call your name, so you looked away and picked up the pace towards the door. He did the same until you both ended up running into your classroom, in front of everyone in their seats. “I’m going to ignore how weird that was, you two take a seat” your teacher instructed. Luckily the only two seats left were on different sides of the room, so you could at least avoid him for an hour. “So after seeing how well your presentations went, I’ve decided we’re going to be doing more debate work in class” your teacher said brightly, earning her an eruption of groans. “I’ve carefully picked out partners that I think will create the best debates” she continued. You already knew where this was heading. She began listing off names until she got to you, “Y/n and Stiles…”. You hit your head on your desk and accidently whispered too loudly “Shit”, causing the whole class including Stiles himself to look back at you. He smirked slightly, but there was also a look of hurt because he didn’t know what he did to make you hate him. “Not the type of language I’d expect to hear in an AP English class” your teacher commented. “Sorry” you groaned, sitting up and brushing the hair out of your face. For the rest of the class Stiles sat zoned out, biting his nails and overthinking. Every so often he’d glance to where you were sat, to see you were doing the exact same. Neither of you raised your hand in the lesson, which meant a few students and your teacher clocked on that something was wrong between the pair of you. “So we’ve got five minutes left, you might want to use the time to discuss with your partner what you’re doing. Debates can be on anything reasonable” your teacher explained, wrapping up the lesson. You both watched as students got out of their seats and made their way over to their partners. You then both awkwardly looked over at each other, catching eye contact. Instead of looking away like you wanted to, you smiled. You smiled to invite him over, when all you wanted to do was run. He walked over slowly, both your hearts beating out of your chests; while you both tried to remain calm and breathe steadily. When he reached you, neither of you knew what to say. But once again you decided to throw up the barriers to protect yourself from danger that wasn’t there. “You can come to mine tonight and we’ll make a start” you offered. “Yeah, sure” he answered, not expecting that. The bell went, just before things started getting awkward. “About the other night-” he began as you stood up and picked up your bag. “I’ve got to get to class” you avoided, before heading out of your classroom in a matter of seconds.

That night rolled on sooner than expected. You were in the middle of cleaning everything off the kitchen table, to make space for your debate making when you heard the door open. You let out a loud sigh when a familiar smell wafted in. “You’re stoned” you exclaimed, throwing down the books you were holding and turning to face your brother. “I’m not stoned- you’re stoned” he slurred with a grin. “Oh, so now you’re mixing weed with vodka” you shook your head with distain. “Mom and dad are coming home in two days, may as well live it up” he told. “You wont be living it up when you don’t graduate next year. What’s going to be your excuse? Sorry I didn’t show up to finals, I was just too fucked up from the night before?” you lectured. “You sound just like mom, maybe you should try taking some of her antidepressants” he whined, holding his head. “Don’t go there” you said through gritted teeth, turning around and continuing to clean. “Can I borrow some money” he asked. “What ever for?” you questioned sarcastically, already knowing the answer. “There’s a party and I said I’d be the supply” he claimed. “Not with my money you’re not” you said with an eye roll. “Fuck you Y/n, you know I’d do it for you” he said harshly. “That’s the thing, I care about you so I don't let you do stupid shit, look at you. It’s 8pm and you’re a mess!” you accidently raised your voice. “And look at you, you’re home alone, you don’t date because you’re afraid of love and it’s inevitable that you’re going to turn out just like mom, swallowing pills with wine at the dinner table and watching your kids grow up to be just like you. It’s a cycle Y/n, don’t think you’re any different to the rest of us!” he matched your volume, it was the alcohol that was talking but you knew there was some truth to his bitterness. “Get the fuck out, you asshole!” you shouted, pushing him from the kitchen to the front door. “I’m sorry” he sighed, immediately realising what he had said. “Just get out” you said quieter, wiping a tear with your sleeve as he opened the front door and went out. “Stiles” you said, widening your eyes after seeing he was approaching the front door as your brother walked out with his head stooped and his eyes red. He gave a small smile, aware of what probably just happened, before walking in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for the third time, as you placed two hot chocolates on the table and sat down. “I’ll be fine” you shrugged, picking up your pen as a signal you didn’t want to talk about it. “So what do you want to do a presentation on?” he took the hint. “Ermm, you pick” you said, a little more cheerily. “Ermm, how about we do it on the whole opinions of love topic?” he suggested. You simply nod your head as you began. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had a really good night with him. You completely forgot about all of your current problems and you hadn’t felt that happy since the last time he came over. You were also very productive, you managed to finish your debate in a matter of a few hours. “Want to rehearse?” he asked. “Sure” you beamed, standing up from the table. You hadn’t heard each others side of the argument, so you were sure you were going to end up squabbling by the end of it.

“So, love. A pretty big subject. No matter how the dictionary defines it, it means something different to every one of us. Personally, I believe love is a reason to get out of bed every morning. For that shred of hope that someday, someone is going to look at you like you’re the best thing in the world” He opened. 

“How I see it, is that no one truly cares how you feel. They only care about, how you make them feel about themselves. It’s selfish, but so are we. We’re selfish because we think it’s okay to walk out of someone’s life when it suits, we think it’s okay to give up on fixing people when we realise it no longer benefits us and we do this under the impression that we’ve simply fallen out of love. How fucked up is that?” you added.

“Wait, you cant just judge love on heartbreak. People leave, they screw us over and they do it without a second thought. We’re in a generation that romanticizes hate and heartbreak so much, but honestly I don’t think anyone could hate as much as they can love. People who hide their feelings usually care the most, you cant keep pretending that you don’t feel” he countered.

“I’m not pretending Stiles- I really don’t care. Nothing hurts more than being disappointed by the person you thought would never hurt you. The best way to never get hurt, is to never feel in the first place” you started.

“Coward” he simply mumbled under his breath. “What?” you asked, with raised eyebrows. “You’re that scared to love, you put on this whole cynical front of not caring, to what? To protect yourself from ever being truly happy?” he exclaimed, rather than questioned. “I do not need ‘love’ to be happy” you replied shortly, Stiles’ words having left you lost for thought. “Just admit it, you’re afraid” he leant against your kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “Afraid of what exactly Stiles?” you turned so you weren’t looking at him, and placed your empty hot chocolate mugs in the sink. “You’re afraid to love me” he spoke seriously. You widened your eyes and froze for a second, before raising your eyebrows and turning back around to face him. “We are nothing, I don’t feel anything for you. I never have and I never will” you shrugged, with a fake smirk that physically hurt for you to make. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that for a second” He retort, walking over to you slowly. “Well you should. I’m broken Stiles and you cant fix me, because I don’t want to be fixed” your breath hitched as he came face to face with you. “Why do you act like people see you as some project. I’m in love with you, for you. You’re broken and it hurts me to see the pain in your eyes and yes I want to help you. But I love YOU” he spoke softly and you felt every single word. “I don’t want to get hurt” you admitted, with an involuntary voice crack. “I would never hurt you Y/n” he claimed. You looked away from his honest gaze and shook your head. “I don’t do this Stiles, I cant do this!” you raised your hands and began to walk away from him. “Try” he said shortly, grabbing your wrist gently and pulling you towards him. He pressed his lips to yours and you practically felt yourself melt under his touch. Every doubt you every had faded in that moment. All you could think about was him, and how safe he made you feel. You finally understood the feeling you had sworn to avoid. You didn’t want that moment to ever end, but the sound of your phone vibrating in your back pocket caused you to break away from him. You stared at each other for a second, both scanning one another’s features for a sign of anything. You broke away and answered your phone. “Omg what?… Oh fuck… I’m coming!” you shoved your phone down and without hesitating, ran over to your car keys, your thoughts shifting from the comfort of Stiles. “Y/n calm down, what is it?” Stiles soothed. “It’s my brother” you said shakily, looking up at him through teary eyes.

Part 3? Does anyone even still read teen wolf imagines? Or should I just quit writing in general?

Rescue (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Request: can u do a Bellamy imagine like murphy takes u instead of jasper and use prompts 7 & 15 and the octavia and clarke realise why bellamys fighting so hard for your safety and that’s prompt 10 like yeah pretty much that whole scene though thankyou xx

A\N: Sorry this took so long to post, I had it all written but my phone crashed and it never saved :(( Hope you like it, i hope it’s okay that I changed a bit of what happens in this so it’s not exactly the same as the episode\scene xox

Originally posted by bellrkebby

Warning: Swearing, violence 


As you walk inside the drop ship, an eery feeling washes over you. Something bad is going to happen. Brushing the thought away, you were ready to meet your best friend Jasper, ready to have your daily session filled with gossip, jokes, terrible puns and your obsession with Octavia’s older brother, Bellamy. Suddenly, the loud grinding noise of the large door startles you as it begins to close. When the noises stop you hear a plethora of shouting coming from outside, and you recognise Jasper and Ravens voice calling your name. You bang your fist on the cold metal and let out a sigh of relief when someone knocks back. But before you can speak, a voice has you snapping around.

 "Didn’t mean to frighten you, princess.“ Murphy apologises, sitting down on Ravens work table. You cringe at the nickname but think about the real problem at hand. 

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Sam Has... What?

Happy belated birthday to @fanficsandfluff!! I hope you enjoy this and I’m sorry I got it up so late but it’s the thought that counts, right? So here it is, I really hope you like it, and again, happy birthday!

———–

Cas stared wide-eyed at the hunter laying on his bed, absolutely speechless. He was in awe, and both Sam and Dean were completely unaware. Sam, because he was sleeping, and Dean, simply because he was human. But Cas? He couldn’t believe what he was looking at, let alone if it was even real.

Sam Winchester had angel wings.

Cas, still in complete shock, left the younger Winchester’s room and went into Dean’s. He shook Dean’s shoulder, earning himself a tired groan and a grumbled “Cas go away”. The angel only responded by shaking him harder. Dean sighed, sitting up.

“What, Cas? What is it?” Dean offered when he realized the angel was probably not going to leave until he acknowledged him.

“It’s Sam… He’s… He has wings, Dean, angel wings.” The younger man’s eyes widened, having never been more confused or scared in his life.

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I was staring at them for almost a full hour. They’re there. And if they’re anything like angel wings, you can’t see them unless he wants you to see them. I can see them, because I’m an angel, but I don’t know if he’s even capable of letting you see them.”


"How?”

“I’m not sure. He must’ve been cursed on the hunt yesterday. That’s the only logical explanation I can think of.”

“Okay um… I’ll check the library, see if I can find anything to reverse the… Spell, or whatever the hell this is. You stay with Sam and make sure he’s okay. Got it?” Dean planned, to which he received a nod from Castiel. “Good.” Dean got up, grabbing some clothes from his closet and a few other things before heading to the bathroom to get himself ready. Cas went into Sam’s room, seeing that he was starting to wake up.

“Logical explanation for what?” He heard Sam say, and while he was still incredibly sleepy, he overheard Cas and Dean’s conversation.

“Nothing, Sam, don’t worry about it yet. How are you feeling? Is everything okay?” Cas asked, trying and failing not to make his concern obvious.

“I’m… Fine, Cas, are you okay?” Sam asked, sitting up properly. The angel saw Sam’s wings flutter a bit as he got up and smiled, looking down at his own lap.

“Sam… There’s something you should know…” Sam was silent, giving Cas a confused look; he looked like a lost puppy and Cas almost didn’t want to tell him. “Sam, you have wings. Real, actual wings.” Sam’s eyes widened as he looked to either side of himself, seeing the dark feathers on his newfound appendages.

“What the— how the hell— Cas, what…” Sam looked at him with wide eyes, taking in small, shaky breaths.

“Sam, calm down, I don’t know how it happened. It must’ve been a spell or something, nothing we can’t solve. You’ll be okay, I promise.” Cas smiled, resting his hand on Sam’s forearm and gently rubbing his thumb against it to calm him. Sam let Cas continue, because, he won’t lie, it felt great, as he gently brought his knees up to his chest. They sat together in comfortable silence for a little bit before Sam pulled his arm back to wrap around his legs, and Cas broke the silence right after.

“Y'know,” Cas started. “You… Your wings are very beautiful, Sam.” Sam looked up at Cas with wide, confused eyes. He seemed so small in that moment, Cas couldn’t believe he was truthfully over thirty years old. He looked no bigger than a toddler, and Cas couldn’t help but smile at him. And to top it all off, he was blushing a little from the compliment.

“I don’t… What?”

“Your wings. They’re very pretty. They’re huge and unique, kind of like you in a sense. They’re a very nice looking color, close to black but not quite as dark. They were spread out beautifully while you were asleep, you must’ve been having a good dream, and, as a whole, you’re wings are incredibly gorgeous— Sam? What’s wrong?” Cas asked as he noticed that Sam’s wings had fallen noticeably and he was hugging his legs tighter, his face hidden in his knees. He was getting increasingly more red every second, and Cas thought it was adorable that he could get so embarrassed that easily. “I don’t understand, why are you so red?”

“It’s nothing, just… Stop complimenting me, Cas.”

“Sam, I still don’t see what the problem is. All I’m saying is that your wings are—”

“Don’t.” Sam interrupted, shyly curling up more; his wings actually started to wrap around him too. “I-I’m just… Not used to compliments, I’m sorry. It makes me a little uncomfortable.”

“Sam…” Cas muttered, resting his hand on Sam’s lower back and rubbing it softly, trying not to touch his wings. But, when he saw Sam smile and bite back laughter, he was smiling even wider.

“Cas– Cas stop. It’s, I-it feels weird.” Sam stuttered, sitting up straight and giggling a little.

“Sam, I don’t understand, what’s wrong?” Cas said smugly, even though he knew exactly what he was doing, but Sam didn’t have time to answer. He was letting out a steady stream of giggles as Cas gently raked his nails across Sam’s lower back. Cas soon ended up with his arm wrapped around Sam’s waist and lightly tracing shapes into his sides. Sam was giggling and pulling halfheartedly at Cas’s wrist, but Cas was effortlessly stronger than him, and could easily move Sam however he wanted with his grace, so he was trying not to struggle too much for both of those reasons. It was a little too early for him to get anything but light tickles.

“Cahaha- Cahahas hehey, stop— it tihihihickles!”

“You know, Sam,” Cas said, completely disregarding Sam’s statement as he moved closer to Sam and poked at his tummy, earning a few adorable squeaks. Sam pushed lightly at Cas’ hands, leaning further and further back to try to escape the tickly feeling until he ended up laying on his back. “It’s not that compliments make you uncomfortable—”

“Cahahas– drop it.”

“—it’s just that no one gives them to you.”

“Let it— just leave ihihit alohohone.”

“And I can change that.” Cas ceased his tickling for a minute so Sam could entirely hear what he was saying. “I’m making a resolution to give you compliments every day, from this moment on. And with that said,” Cas dig his fingers into Sam’s ribs, relishing in the loud squeak and the steady stream of giggles Sam produced.

“CAS! Dohohon’t!”

“Don’t?” Cas asked incredulously, head tilted to the side as he smiled. “Why not?”

“‘Cahause— behecahause— Cas!” The hunter’s laughter only grew higher pitched as Cas moved down to tickle his tummy.

“Yes, Sam?” Sam simply shook his head, too lost in embarrassment and laughter to answer properly.

“Juhuhust stohohohohop!” Sam tried to stop laughing long enough to give Cas his famous puppy dog eyes, but it proved pointless.

“Why?” He asked again, smiling at the man beneath him. “Too ticklish?”

“Shut up!” The hunter rushed before falling into more helpless laughter, blushing at the accusation. Sam’s one hand went down to gently hold onto Cas’ wrist, though he didn’t do anything past that, and his other hand went up to cover his face.

“You’re blushing.” The angel pointed out, giving Sam a short break by slowing his tickling to just gently ghosting his fingertips over Sam’s tummy, creating goosebumps over the toned skin. “It’s cute.”

“Cahas—” the hunter giggled, only blushing harder. His hand still held onto Castiel’s wrist, though he still didn’t try to stop the angel.

“Sam, I must say your laughter is very endearing.” Cas pointed out and the hunter smiled wider, shaking his head and covering his face even further.

“Cahas plehehease—” Sam managed through his laughter.

“I wonder if your wings are as sensitive as mine?” Cas thought out loud, smirking as Sam let out a steady stream of nervous giggles. Sam’s giggling grew louder as he watched the angel’s hands slowly descended down towards his wings, his fingers curved in a claw-like form.

“Cas, no, nononononono Cas, Cas don’t please—!” The rest of the hunter’s pleas were lost as Cas’s fingers collided with his wings, causing Sam to burst out laughing as his body instinctively tried curling up. His knees drummed against Cas’s back as he shook his head, his whole body eventually going limp as he decided to just take it and get it over with.

“Your dimples are very sweet, I’m glad I get to see them in this light.”

“Cahahahas!” Sam brought both hands up to cover his face now, still giggling helplessly, which Cas found absolutely adorable. Cas smirked and used his grace to keep the tickling at the wings before reaching behind him and squeezing Sam’s knees. The hunter let out a loud squeak and bucked his hips, sending the angel flying forward, and he landed mere inches from Sam’s face. He withdrew his grace and stopped tickling, deciding Sam actually needed to breathe sooner or later, as he pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s forehead.

“How are you doing?” He said as he sat up again.

“Better–” Sam said, still giggling, as he removed his hands from his face. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re still blushing.” Cas said, making Sam groan as he rolled over as far as he could with Cas still straddling him to bury his face in the pillow. “No, Sam, it’s cute!”

“No!” Sam whined, giggling sweetly into the pillow.

“Sam.” The angel smiled, rubbing Sam’s arm to calm him down.

“You're… Not nice.” Sam said, voice muffled by the pillow, giggling more as he heard Cas laugh at the comment.

“I’m sorry, but it made you feel better about the wings, right?” Sam emerged from the pillow and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting a little.

“I guess… Yeah.” Sam couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“And, hey, now I have a way to make you smile whenever I want.” The angel teased, smiling brightly as Sam let out a sound somewhere between a squeak and a sigh. “I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

“Well… I have a question for you now.” The hunter asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

“What?”

“When you were… Uh… Tickling the wings, you said you wonder if they’re ‘the same as yours’… Care to explain?”

“Uh… Well… I'm— I don't…” Cas stammered, slowly pushing himself off Sam. Unfortunately, Sam caught him, and leaned forward to wrap his arms around the angel’s waist before turning the tables, dropping Cas on the bed and quickly straddling his hips. “Sam—! Sam, I-I… What are you doing?”

“Testing my theory.”

Reyna Writes: Partners Under Covers - An Alyadrien Week Prompt

IT IS THE 18TH HERE, WHICH MEANS IT’S OFFICIALLY DAY #7 OF ALYADRIEN WEEK HERE, SO NOW I CAN POST THIS AND N O O N E C A N S T O P M E.

For Alyadrien Week #7: AU

Waiting to post this was fucking t o r t u r e, since I had it finished about a week ago, but oh well.

Normally @siderealsandman is my enabler in stuff like this, but this time around, it’s more @bullysquadess‘s fault. :P

Enjoy! <3

~Reyna


When prompted, the neighbors of one Adrien Agreste would have a lot to say about him, all good things:

M. Agreste? Oh, he’s so kind, I just love him.”

“Adrien? Yes, he’s such a joy to have in the neighborhood! Always volunteers at the neighborhood barbecues, and he never has a bad thing to say about anyone!”

“Oh yes, Adrien Agreste. Just between you and me, if I didn’t have a partner, I’d certainly like a shot at him…hell, I think Jean would probably agree!”

Former part-time model Adrien Agreste made his living by teaching piano lessons for kids, teens, adults—basically anyone who wanted to learn—at the local rec center, where all the townsfolk gathered to learn a variety of skills, be it the piano, cooking, dancing, or even quilting. And he was never without business—when he wasn’t teaching at the rec center, people were practically lining up for private lessons outside his two-story home, which was grander than a few of the houses, but modest enough, considering his gigantic inheritance when his father passed. He was always ready with a helping hand and a smile, which would make him an easy target when it came to shady individuals, but he was just so pure that anyone who tried to scam him seemed to end up giving up with a thousand apologies, which he always accepted. Adrien Agreste was simply too pure for anyone to mean him harm.

That…and his lawyer was not someone to be trifled with.

Keep reading

2

Since I’ve been sent two similar prompts, I figured the writing gods were trying to tell me something. Not sure if it’s coincidence or fate, but it’s about time I finally try my hand at this story. Please enjoy :)


Jack takes one look at the dress, looks back up at Geoff, and says, “Absolutely fucking not.”

“C’mon, Jack.”

“Geoff, the guy’s sleazy. I’d put a bullet in him within ten seconds of meeting him.”

Jack had Geoff there; their target, who had so many aliases his real name has eluded even Gavin’s tech skills, had a smarmy smile and a wandering hand that should have been parted from his body a long time ago. Geoff feels bad for even asking Jack, but she’s the guy’s type. Alive and female.

“I told you she’d say no,” Gavin says from across the room, hanging off the couch upside down, watching CCTV footage on Geoff’s TV. “That man has been standing there, finger in his nose, for almost half an hour.”

“Why are you watching him?” Jack asks curiously, ignoring Geoff as he gestures to the dress, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Dunno, figured he’d do something else by now.” Gavin turns the TV off, flipping around so he’s sitting upright, clutching his head. “Probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Jack murmurs an agreement, turning her attention back to Geoff. “The answer is still no.”

“We need somebody to seduce the buyer…”

“Then one of you do it.”

“We would, but…” Geoff trails off, but they all understand perfectly. Ryan’s good looks and Gavin’s boyish charms weren’t going to catch this guy’s attention. Figures, one of the girls would be stuck doing this job.

With a heavy sigh, Geoff says, “I guess we could ask Lindsay…”

“I’ll do it,” Gavin announces, hopping to his feet.

“You’re a dude.”

“Well spotted.” He grins when Geoff glares at him. “I’ll have you know, I can pull off a dress. And heels. And makeup.”

“That was one time and you nearly died.”

I’ll do it,” Gavin repeats, brushing off Geoff’s concern, heading towards the door. “It’s not my first undercover job, Geoff. I can do this, you know.”

“I’ve never doubted your ability.” Geoff looks torn, but he knows they don’t have much choice, and Gavin is willing to do this job. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

Geoff sighs again, picking the dress up and carrying it across the room to Gavin. “Not sure this dress is going to fit you, buddy.”

“No worries,” Gavin responds, waving the dress away, “I have one in mind.”


Michael will never say it out loud, but Gavin looks good in a dress. The gold evening gown brings out his coloring, he seems to know his way around a pair of heels, and the light touch of makeup almost makes him forget Gavin is a dude. Almost.

And Michael realizes he’s been staring way too long.

“Shit, Gavin,” he comments, breaking eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Like what you see?” Gavin teases, laughing when Michael flips him off.

“Where’d you put your gun?” Jeremy walks around Gavin, studying him, tapping his chin. “Or any weapon for that matter?”

“It’s a bit rude, asking me those questions.”

“It’s a legit question!”

Gavin walks away from Jeremy, stopping next to Geoff, glancing over his shoulder at what little they had on their target. He’s disappointed he couldn’t find more, but any information is better than nothing.

“You ready for this?” Geoff asks for the fourth time, and Gavin sighs. “Okay, fine, you’re ready, but if things get heavy…”

“I’ve got it covered,” Gavin says confidently.

“But if they do…”

Gavin rolls his eyes, shaking his head, but he humors Geoff for the sake of shutting him up. “Michael and Jeremy will be posing as servants, Ryan’ll be lurking around acting like a party guest, and you and Jack will be parked down the street in a surveillance van. Am I missing anything?”

Begrudgingly, Geoff crosses his arms and mutters, “No.”

“I’ll be fine, Geoff. Don’t worry so much.”


For the most part, Gavin is fine. He waited until their target had a few drinks in him before approaching him, got him talking, learned more than he had through his extensive cyber research. He also got groped more than he’d have liked, which, he reminded himself, stopped any of the girls from getting groped, but it still didn’t mean he liked it.

He’s not sure when things went sour, but here he is, hiding behind an upturned table, firing a small .22 pistol. It had been the only weapon he could conceal in his thigh holster without giving away the fact that he’s armed.

He feels bad for women who have to do these types of things in fancy dress. His gown is hard to maneuver in and one of his heels snapped, he’s pretty sure there’s mascara in his eyes, and his wig kept obscuring his vision until he got so frustrated he ripped it off his head and threw it away.

The gunfight ends within moments of starting; the buyer screaming in pain from a shoulder wound, two of his goons dead, and a lot of panic. On their end, nobody ends up hurt too badly; a bullet grazing Ryan’s arm, and Jack’s face has a few cuts from when the chandelier fell, but it could have been worse.

They hightail it out of there when they hear sirens, but not before handcuffing the buyer to the stair railing (they got all they needed out of him and there’s no use wasting another bullet on him).

In the van, screeching around the corner, Gavin kicks his heels off, grabbing the extra set of clothes he had bought to change into, glancing over at Jeremy who’s been watching him for the better part of five minutes.

“What?”

“Never, ever use a thigh holster again, dude. Just no.”

“What do you want me to use instead?”

“I don’t know. A purse. Women carry purses!”

“I know, but I couldn’t find one that matched this dress.”

“Just promise me, next time, use a purse.”

“I make no promises.”