quick little drabble

Imagine... Dean finding a Victoria’s Secret Bag

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: quick little Dean drabble for you guys! For those of you who have seen NCIS, this was sort of inspired by the way Tony DiNozzo sneaks around when he’s prying into Tim and Ziva’s stuff. Hope you like it!

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Dean can tell when something’s wrong. Call it a gift, call it a curse. If there is anyone that knows you better, it would be Dean Winchester. The best part is, you never seemed to notice. Dean has kept a close eye on you from the start. Women didn’t stick around the Winchester’s, especially not beautiful, badass female hunters that could give them a run for their money. You were a strong hunter, and an even stronger human being in his eyes. There was nothing you couldn’t do.

 So when he see’s you’ve left half a plate of french fries in one of your favourite diners, he knows something’s up. That’s a red flag. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes are watching you. Ever few miles, he’ll take a look in the rearview mirror to check up on you. Your usual smile and jokes with him and Sam change into earbuds and you staring out the window. Red flag number two.

 The second you stepped foot in the bunker, he can see how drained you are by the way you carry yourself and he can’t stand to see you hurting in anyway. Mentally is so much worse than physically. He can’t patch you up with a couple of bandaids and kiss it better. There is nothing he can do to make you feel any better. There’s nothing he can ever do.

 For a moment, he wonders just what he can do to try and help you. What would you want him to do? What would he want you to do if the roles were reversed? He for one, would go off along and drink himself until he couldn’t feel anything. But he’s always wondered if maybe it would be a little easier if he had you next to him. He’s just too afraid to ask you. Which makes him wonder, are you too afraid to ask for him?

 You always went to your bedroom when you got home from a hunt. This time, Dean thought it was best to follow you. When he saw you in your room, tears steadily making their way down your cheeks. That was the last thing he wants to see. His feet were moving without even thinking about it and his arms pulled you into them without so much as a word.

 You deserved to have someone there to hold you when you were falling apart and Dean wanted to be that guy. He was going to be that guy that held you together.

He didn’t give Dorian his heart. Dorian – well – took it, like he took so many things.

Like the covers at night. With all of his superhuman strength in sleep, he was able to rip the blankets out from underneath several hundred pounds of the Iron Bull. He would pull, push with his feet, wrap his body tightly in the fabric still warm from Bull’s body heat. What choice did he have, then, but to curl up close beside Dorian, tilt his head to rest a cheek in messy black hair, to rub his back if he rolled to face the other way.

Like the space he carved in Bull’s room, unshyly rearranging the chest and the dresser, making room for his possessions among the clutter. Hygiene items, mostly, along with the latest book to read while Bull filled his reports, both of them sitting against the headboard, barely touching, existing together in silence and the occasional flutter of pages.

Like the food he pilfered from the kitchens, snuck into his bag to be shared with Bull by the fire on missions. Keeping him company on the late watch, offering the snack with a wink, keeping their conversation to a murmur to avoid waking the others. Some bread shared between them, a piece of fruit, paying no mind to the marks left by the other’s teeth, biting the same end.

Like the clothing he wore when they were alone, the Bull’s massive shirts and socks that allowed for a peek of leg in between, dusted with fine dark hair. Sometimes the socks would “walk off,” as it were, and Bull would catch glimpses of them poking out of the tops of Dorian’s boots as he sat cross-legged in the library. Unmatching, where anyone could see.

It was no wonder that Dorian practically held out his palm and waited for Bull to place his heart dutifully in his hand. And when the weight of a dragon’s tooth filled that space, the sturdy chain hanging between his spread fingers, Dorian received all he had left to give.

@erurink New friendo! Thank you a hundred times over for making this prompt list. It’s magnificent. It’s so painfully eruri, but also versatile enough for every fandom *heart eyes* It took me a few days to work out characterizations (I take canon-verse nerd-ishly seriously) Good luck with your job app! Sorry, this is kind of heavy. Usually, I don’t write angst…

[I’m a snail, but send me a number if ya like!]


7. “Who do you think you are?”

[~1k, Canon-verse Angst/Grieving. But also Fluff because, hello, it’s me. Developing Friendships. Post-ACWNR, Pre-canon.]



It had been three months.  


Levi could feel the number rolling around in his head, knocking against his skull, sharp-edged and painful.  It must have cut too deep because when a little girl with a bobbing reddish ponytail darted in front of him, narrowly missing hooves and wheels, he froze.  Someone collided with his back and spat, “Fucking watch it, freak.”  The man smelled cloying, like perfume and rot, when he shoved past Levi and shot his uniform a look more filthy than his stringy hair.  Levi turned on his heel and returned to his quarters without getting any of the supplies he needed from town.


Three months above-ground, three months back in the ground—turned to dirt to fertilize that pretty grass that matched Isabel’s eyes. 


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Who said mischief is a bad thing?

Summary: Loki shows you he likes you, using the only thing he knows.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: My darling @fandomgirl94 got me all excited for Loki, so I just wrote a quick little drabble. Hope you enjoy it!

Originally posted by eilizabeth-olsen

In my rare free time, I like to read, write, or bake. Today, as I am the only one not need on a mission and I have the tower to myself, I decide reading would be the best idea. Peace and quiet in the workplace is a VERY rare anomaly, so I decide to take advantage of it. Making a quick kitchen stop on my way to the living room to pick up a thing of tea and a pastry. Continuing my way to the living room, and being pleased to find it empty. It’s not that I don’t love my fellow avengers, it’s just there doesn’t seem to be anyone around who shares my interests. I enjoy reading, baking, writing, and causing a little bit of mischief.

I’m alone in my own thoughts, about halfway into the 27th chapter on my book when I’m interrupted.

“You were not needed on today’s mission, (Y/N)” I know who it it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t scare the ever loving shit out of me.

“HOLY SHIT LOKI! Loki, Loki listen to me, you can’t do that shit. My heart can’t take it. I’m just a mortal, just a mere mortal.” Loki grins, raising an eyebrow.

“Did I scare you, darling?” Loki has been around the tower, Thor says he has turned a new leaf, and he’s the ONLY person who’s ever been able to sneak up on me. Which doesn’t put my mind at ease, considering his track record. I roll my eyes, throwing my book at him. Unsurprisingly, he phases out, and reappears next to me, sitting next to me on the window seil couch. He crosses his right leg over his left.

“God, Loki why do you do this to me?” I lean back, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re so easy to stardle, darling. I cannot resist. I am the God of mischief after all, yes?” I smirk.

“Well, I guess being a dick IS in your nature. Can’t hold it against you then, can I?” He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and glaring into my eyes.

“You’re an awful arrogant woman, you realize.” I smirk.

“Ah yes, you’ll have to forgive me.” He sits back again.

“Are you nervous?” My face heats up, and I cross my arms, glaring into his eyes.

“W-What are you talking about?” He leans up closer to me, bringing his hand up, causing me to flinch. He makes a disapproving face, almost to say ‘You know I won’t hurt you’ and rests his hand on my chest, right above my heart.

“Your heart flutters like a thousand hummingbirds. What has you so anxious, dear?” I gulp, still staring into his bright green eyes.

“Y-You make me nervous.” He smirks, removing his hand.

“Why?” I take a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

“I-I don’t know…you don’t exactly have a squeaky clean record.” His eyes soften, almost like I had offended him.

“Make no mistake, I will never harm you.” He stands up, walking to pick up the book I had thrown at him, bringing it back to me. I take it from him, my fingers making contact with his, sending a shock through my body.

“I know…but you can’t blame me for being cautious.” He sighs, looking up into my eyes.

“My past actions have consequences, and I will pay those for the rest of my existence, however if there is one thing you should never worry, it is that I will never harm you, or allow harm to come to you. You have my word.” I know he’s the God of lies, but I can’t help but believe he is telling the truth. I am so distracted by him, that I don’t notice the book in my hands changing and morphing. I only notice when I start to feel something slithering on my hand. Looking down, I see the book had transformed into a snake. A fucking snake. I scream, jumping back and throwing the snake as far away from me as possible. Loki laughs, walking away from me. I yell in frustration, running towards him, and launching myself at him. I realize at this moment I may have fucked up, because he COULD just disappear. I seem to be in luck however, as he turns around and catches me without even taking a step back.

“Sorry darling. I had to find a way to get you into my arms somehow.” Blushing, I lightly smack him on the chest. He laughs, bringing his lips down to mine, stopping just shy of connecting.

“May I kiss you?” Instead of responding, I press my mouth onto his, running my fingers through his hair.

Who said mischief is a bad thing?

PERMANENT TAG LIST: @marvel-fanfiction, @cassandras-musings, @sammnipple, @iamthemaskhewears, @fairlylocalfairies, @badassbaker, @topkay, @psychicwitchphilosopher, @gallifreyansass, @ladydork, @fandomgirl94, @learisa, @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl, @erieann19

It wasn’t supposed to be such a quick drabble but since I have no time to perfect it, here you go…

well then, ekhem- KUROBAS CUP 2015 MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A MESS.

Every time I see -tch- every time I RECALL crying Kenshou and Yuuki comforting him, my eyes go wet immediately. I know they became good friends after all this time and all but… that scene… I just cannot handle it without emotions simmering inside me ;W;

I shipped KagaKuro but not as a great fan or sth - I believe it’s going to change after everything that I watched… *w*

I didn’t even understand anything except few words and phrases… And still… I think I didn’t really need to understand…

Excuse me, I need to sob in the corner for a while. /crieees/

anonymous asked:

90, andreil if u want!!!!

90: I can’t do this anymore

So I wrote about three different angsty scenarios for this prompt but then I thought - you know what, these boys have had enough hardships in their life - so this is a quick little drabble put together roughly at work today.


Andrew Minyard wasn’t Neil’s first kiss. But he was the first kiss that mattered; the first kiss that stole Neil’s breath; the first kiss Neil would risk his own safety for.

Andrew Minyard kissed like he punched - fierce, passionate, precise, powerful, hard. It was split knuckles and bitten lips, bruised skin and hungry mouths.

Andrew Minyard was a full-body kisser. Kisses were a choreographed overload of tongue, teeth and lips; fingers and hands pressing promises into scarred flesh; knees and thighs holding the weight of uttered yes’s and no’s.

Andrew Minyard tasted of cigarettes and chocolate. The bite of nicotine echoed in teeth grazing lips, soothed by a balm of sweet cocoa and wet tongue.

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Jessie’s Girl (NSFW)

Originally posted by icrimsonxi

Jessica Jones x Reader

Warnings: language (moderate), smut

A/N: Was trying to go to sleep but this quick little one shot drabble was all I could think about. Sooo, I had no fucking idea who to tag for this so I just tagged some of the usual suspects. Also, I know I should be writing some of the requests I have but I got distracted. Sorry not sorry, I’m in love with Jessica Jones.


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3

**Due to an inappropriate reply to the original post, I have deleted and am reposting this drabble. The user in question has been reported and blocked from this blog.

Pairing:
Sam x Reader
Reader gender: unspecified
Summary: Sam is jealous that you spent the whole day with Cas and Dean calls him out for brooding. Turns out, he had nothing to worry about.
A/N: Just a quick little Sammy x Reader drabble for you all! I love writing jealous!Sam…

“Isn’t that, like, your third bourbon tonight?” Dean asked, eyeing Sam who was still sitting at his laptop, though he hadn’t seen or heard him type anything in quite some time.

Sam looked up at his brother. “So? You have three on a good day,” he retorted.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Whoa. Okay, what is your problem? You’ve been biting my head off over nothing all day.”

Sam sighed in annoyance and fixed his eyes back on his laptop screen.

Dean continued to stare at his brother, studying his expression. “Ohhhh wait a minute. I know what this is.”

Sam gave him an annoyed look. “No you don’t, because it’s not anything,” he said.

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On Your Right - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

A/N: This story literally started out because of this shirt.. And all I wanted to do was right a quick little drabble about the reader running with Sam so there was someone between him and Bucky. And then I started writing about Bucky and I couldn’t stop, so here’s part 1 of like probably at least 3 maybe more. I hope you enjoy. 

Summary: Starts with Bucky, Sam, Cap and reader running around the reflecting pool and then goes from there. There’s Bucky fluff. A little bit of angst. Inexperienced!reader 

Rating: T (to be safe) 

Word Count: 1786 


Sam had been begging you for weeks to go on his morning runs with him. When you found yourselves on an extended stay in DC, you finally agreed, waking up before the sun and changing into your workout clothes. You met at the far end of the reflecting pool and started off at a light jog.

The two of you ran at about the same pace, so it was easy to keep in time. You were about to comment on the slowly lightening sky, when you heard heavy, hurried footsteps behind you.

“Just ignore them,” Sam ordered.

Before you could ask, you heard Steve’s familiar voice, “On your left,” and saw him pass by Sam. You weren’t expecting the low “On your right,” murmured in your ear as Bucky passed you and you jumped in surprise.

“Do they always do that?” You asked as you sped up to keep pace.

“Constantly,” Sam grumbled.

You didn’t understand why Sam was so put out. It was kind of funny. You supposed it might get irritating if it happened every day.

It was plenty irritating by the thirteenth time that same morning.

“Okay, now I get why you wanted me to go running with you,” you laughed as you leaned back against the tree, trying to catch your breath.

“It was one thing when it was just cap, but both of them. I needed a barrier.”

“Fair enough. Well, if running with you means a view like this, I can dig it.”

“Are you two calling it quits already?” Steve asked, walking up to you, barely even breaking a sweat.

Stupid super soldier.

“We’re just getting started,” Bucky added on, looking even less fazed.

“Well, by all means, have at it. We wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back, doll,” Bucky smiled genuinely at you, and you lost your train of thought. “Of course, I could always slow things down, if that’s the way you like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his best friend and Sam fake gagged next to you. In your head you responded with a witty quip about how he would never know how you like it or something similar. In reality you just sort of gaped at him, stomach flipping and brain fritzing.

Standing up abruptly, you mumbled an excuse, “I better head back to the tower. Wanda said she wanted to train together this morning. See you later, thanks for the run, Sam.”

“If that’s what you call it,” Steve barked out laughing.

“Yeah, you’re hilarious. That hasn’t gotten old at all,” Sam sneered.  

Rolling your eyes, you jogged away from the three guys, but once they were out of sight, you slowed to a walk. You remembered too late that Wanda had left the night before.

“Ugh, idiot,” you mentally slapped yourself.

You had no doubt they had all picked up on your lie. Figuring it wasn’t worth it to face Sam’s teasing or Steve’s knowing glances or Bucky’s dumb flirty perfect face you didn’t bother going back to the compound.

“Stupid super soldier,” you muttered to yourself as you wandered around D.C.

You ended up at the Smithsonian, roaming around the Captain America exhibit. You liked to come here whenever you were in D.C. You had come with Bucky pretty frequently when he was first sorting through his memories after Wakanda. Being there brought back your own happy memories.

You smiled at the video clip of Steve and Bucky they had playing on a loop. They were so at ease, joking and teasing. It had taken a long time, but the light in Bucky’s eyes had eventually come back. He and Steve were constantly laughing together making up for lost time you were sure.

You’d also seen that smile thrown your way more than once. It always made your stomach warm, like when you finally got a home cooked meal at the holidays.

No. No. No.

You didn’t want to admit that Bucky had started to feel like home. That would mean that you liked him. And you definitely did not like the dumb, wonderful, sweet, perfect super soldier.

Shit.

It wasn’t that you actually had a problem liking Bucky. He was one of the best people you knew. T’Challa and his team had managed to deactivate the programming Hydra had given him. He could never be turned into that again. He once told you it was one of the happiest days of his life, followed quickly by months of the worst.

Knowing he couldn’t turn back into the Winter Soldier was a huge relief for him. But then he was finally forced to confront what he had done. That was a long struggle. The major turning point was when Tony came to visit the compound and forgave Bucky.

Natasha had provided Tony with the same intel she had given Steve. The intel that offered excruciating detail into everything that was done to Bucky. You weren’t sure about everything, but given the night terrors he often had, you could guess. Even with that info, it took time for Tony to come around. But when he finally came to the compound, he sat with Bucky. He told him how he understood that they had turned Bucky into a weapon. How it wasn’t really him that pulled the trigger.

That had been the first time you saw hope in Bucky’s eyes. After that he started to heal and you slowly began to see the Bucky Barnes Steve had once known. And Sergeant Bucky Barnes, was a merciless flirt, and you had fallen right for it. He took particular pleasure in riling you up.

You were “cute when you’re flustered, doll”. He drove you nuts. Because while you wanted to be bold and confident like Nat, and your sarcasm skills were definitely up for the job, you were as inexperienced as pre-serum Steve on the dating thing. That’s why Bucky’s comment about taking it slow threw you. Yeah he was teasing you about sex, but in reality if you were going to be with him you really would need him to take it slow - right from the start with dating, all the way through to sleeping together. That is why you never gave into your crush. You knew he’d get bored with you before anything ever happened.

“On your right.”

You jumped at the interruption to your inner monologue, more than a trained agent should have.

“You know when I told you to take a picture because it would last longer, I didn’t mean it. You’re always welcome to take a peek at the real deal.”

“Who says I was looking at you?” You shot back.

“Same goes for Steve. It’s not like he’d toss a dame like you out of bed.”

“Always a gutter brain. Were you this bad in the 40’s?”

“I’m a perfect gentleman, doll. Remember I promised to take it nice and slow with you,” he whispered at the shell of your ear.

You repressed a shiver.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested abruptly.

He tried to play it off as a pick up line, but you sensed the sudden tension in him. You looked around and noticed the large tour group of kids coming your way. Kids always recognized Bucky, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the parents who pulled them away.

Pulling his arm around your shoulder, you stuck your hand through his belt loop, guiding him away.

Public displays of affection make people nervous. Nat had taught you that. A happy couple drew much less attention than a baseball cap and jacket ever would.

Outside in the fresh air, you felt Bucky instantly relax beside you, but he didn’t remove his arm from around you. It felt nice, so you let him lead you around the city, letting your feet fall in step with his.

“You look nice, by the way,” you complimented him after catching sight of your reflection in a store window. “What’s the special occasion?”

His dark jeans fit him perfectly, and the blue striped button down he wore was snug in all the right places.

“I… uh… had a date planned. But the dame never showed,” he explained, using his free hand to adjust his baseball cap.

Your heart sank at his words. A date.

“So you decided to take a trip down memory lane instead?” you queried.

He shrugged.

“I hoped you’d be there. I thought we could spend some time together.”

Because you were the easy part. Always there, but never wanted until you were the last thing left.

“Well, you found me,” you huffed.

Noting the change in your expression, he steered you toward the nearest shop. The sweet smell of sugar, butter, and chocolate pushed away the worst of the bitterness. Bucky ordered a giant brownie and a giant chocolate chip cookie. You took your goodies and settled into one of the small tables in the corner.

You moaned as you bit into the warm chocolate chip cookie, not feeling an ounce of shame until you noticed Bucky repressing a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” He shook his head, “Not a thing, doll.” He grinned and then turned to people watch.

While he was distracted, you reached out to steal a bit of his brownie. You were a millimeter away when you felt his hand close around your wrist.

“Paws off my sweets, doll.”

You managed to look a little sorry and moved to retract your hand but Bucky didn’t let you. Instead, he moved both of your hands under the table and entwines your fingers. With his other hand he pinches off a piece of the brownie, offering it to you. You go to grab it, but he pulls back with a smirk.

“Ah ah. I said paws off,” he reminded you, offering the bite again.

“Then what… Oh,” you said, realizing what he was getting at.

As he held up the bite of brownie you inclined your head and he fed it to you, smirking triumphantly. He offered you another bite, with that same infuriating smirk.

‘Mmmm, god that tastes so good,” you groaned, and his smirk faltered for a moment, as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. It was so quick you soon decided it must have been your imagination.

Halfway through his brownie, you realized your cookie had gone relatively untouched.

“You know, you’re looking mighty smug for someone who’s willingly giving up half his dessert without getting anything in return,” you grinned, opting for a bite of your own cookie. Breaking off a piece you offered it to Bucky, who snaked his tongue out and took the bite.

“Who says I didn’t get anything in return,” he commented, smiling brightly.


A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. There will be more coming because I am down the Seb Stan/ Winter Soldier rabbit hole and I’m not coming back. Feedback is appreciated but be kind lovelies. 


Part 2

If I Were To Die

Pairing - Jake x MC hinted but it’s mostly a fic about Jake and his daughter
Prompt - A father’s letters to his daughter
Warnings - Character death, military death
Word Count - 1858
A/N - This is connected to my fic His Copilot but it’s not necessary that you read it but it might help. This is just a quick little drabble I’ve been working on for the past couple days. I’m not extremely happy with it, but eh.

-

My Little Princess,

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yoichooseno  asked:

"Alfred's Photo Album" Alfred's favourite memories of the batfam, some of the precious moments he slipped into the book and some of the most hilarious. Bonus points if it includes the time Dick fell asleep in Jason's lap. I would love love love to see what you do with this ❤️❤️

Sorry this took so long to post, I’ve only had internet sporadically the last few days. Hope you enjoy this quick little drabble :)

It had started off as just one photo album; a collection of pictures of young Master Bruce that he might one day gift to him. Maybe on his twenty-first birthday.

(But Master Bruce goes off on his soul-searching pilgrimage and Alfred spends his twenty-first alone in the Manor. He sits at the kitchen table with a pot of tea, flicking through the happy memories and wondering when his wayward charge will next call home.)

Page one is a photo of baby Bruce his first day home from the hospital, face scrunched up in wonder as his tiny fists curl around a small teddy bear. The first quarter of the album is full of a smiling young boy; at school, in the garden, at his first gala in an adorable tiny suit, asleep on his mother’s lap an hour later. Alfred can pinpoint the time Thomas and Martha died without even looking at dates. The pictures tapered off after that, only a few milestones marked by an unsmiling Bruce.

They don’t pick back up until the Manor is filled with childish laughter once again. And then a single album isn’t enough.

The first page of the second album is a picture of the whole family, Alfred included. A candid shot of them on a lazy day beside the pool. Bruce rolling his eyes as he watches Cass and Tim pull in a laughing Dick, Damian’s arms crossed as he stands beside his Father, oblivious to Jason and Stephanie creeping up behind him. Only a few seconds after the picture had been taken, they’d thrown him in as well and he’d come up spluttering and furious.

Somewhere in the middle is one of his favourites; a mock-grumpy Jason glaring at the camera with an oblivious Dick sprawled across his lap, eyes closed and mouth parted slightly in sleep. Tim is leaning over Jason’s shoulder, the only one actually smiling as he looks down at Damian, also asleep, trapped beneath Dick’s legs at the other end of the couch.

There’s another album, a more secret one, emblazoned with the Bat symbol, kept in a drawer in the cave where no snooping guests could find it. It depicts each of his charges’ first night in costume, Batman included, as well as a handful of other moments. Tim-as-Robin asleep at the Bat Computer, Nightwing and Black Bat playfully wrestling on the mats, Damian-as-Robin looking long-suffering as Batgirl pinches his cheeks, Batman standing in the middle of the Cave with all of his children hanging of him.

All memories Alfred treasures, kept forever between the pages of several photo albums. Pulled out when he’s feeling nostalgic or when he needs to add another photo to the collection.

Watch It

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Warnings: Brief violence

Notes: Saw the gif, thought of this. Just a quick little Gabriel drabble.

“You listen to me, you arrogant dick.” Gabriel stressed, “If you touch the sweet lady behind me again, I will hurt you.”

The guy who had tried to force himself onto you earlier just laughed at the shorter man in front of him. “Sure you will tough guy” the man said sarcastically, patting Gabe on the back while making his way back to you.

Clearly not listening to the archangel, the man grabbed your arm in an attempt to pull you from the bar. All of a sudden a fist came flying towards the side of the guys face, causing him to let go of you.

“What the hell?!” He barked, staring at the angel with blood oozing out of his nose and down his hand.

“I told you not to touch her, let’s go Y/N” Gabe said. You grabbed your things and trailed behind your savior.


2

‘Light the Way’

Quick little Narry Drabble

Word count of 416

Based on the above gif set by @ziall

//

Light.

Harry.

Mother fucking, Harry Styles.

“M'sleeping, Haz.” Niall groans, shoving his face into the warm pillow he’d just been sleeping on a few blissful moments ago.

“it’s morning, baby.” Harry says, a smug simper evident in his tone as he moved closer to the bed.

“No.” Niall protested, engulfing himself into every part of the bed he could, gripping the sheets in fear of what Harry would do next.

“Niall, come on. I’m bored, we’re in a new city and I want to explore!” Harry chirped, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Go explore then.” Niall grumbles, turning over and moving away from Harry.

“Come on, Niall.” Harry tries, waiting a few seconds before letting out another whine “Baby, please.”

Niall opts to completely ignore Harry at this point, using every ounce of strength he could muster to tune Harry out and fall back asleep.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just be going.” Harry sighs dramatically, walking slowly away from the bed. “However, it is kind of chilly out, so I think I’ll be needing this blanket.” Harry says, tugging the blanket so it slides halfway down Niall’s torso, before losing his grip when Niall pulls back in defence.

“Take a fucking jacket, Christ Harry.” Niall pouts, wiping his eyes, looking rather adorable in Harry’s opinion.

“I’m sorry, love.” Harry simpers, taking in Niall’s beautiful blue eyes for the first time all morning.

Niall did look breath taking, still, Harry wasn’t going to give up his fight to get Niall out of bed; he reached out to grab the blankets once again.

“Harry! Babe, stop!” Niall cries, grumpily pulling back on the blanket so they were having a full on tug of war.

“Not until you agree to wake up.” Harry refuses, tugging the blanket harder.

What he didn’t expect to happen when he tugged a bit harsher is Niall to come with the blanket, crashing into him not-so-gracefully, and flinging them both onto the floor in a mess of limbs and a soft, thick comforter.

Harry lets out a groan and then an apologetic chuckle before turning to face Niall. “At least you’re up now.”

Niall only groans, running his hands through his messy morning hair. “You’re a piece of work, Styles.”

“And so are you, cupcake.” Harry smiles, pressing a loving kiss to Niall’s lips. “Now go get ready.

Survivor Guilt

Words: 276 

Warnings: mentions of character deaths, lots of angsty angst 

Tagging: @winchesters-favorite-girl@straightasdeanwinchester@infamati–et–obliterati 

A/N: Just a quick little drabble I wrote, hopefully it can hold you guys over until I can finish the next part of Never, In Fact, Homeless.


“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault.”

Like a mantra, you repeated those words in your head every day, over and over again.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself when you woke up in the morning, alone in your empty apartment.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself as you slid behind the wheel of your car, wanting nothing more than to start the engine and leave it running in the closed garage.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself on the way to the florist to pick up those flowers your mom always loved.

Someday, you would believe yourself. Someday, you would be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not despise what you saw. Someday, you would be able to see a picture of them without dissolving into tears.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself at the toy store, staring at the tiny teddy bear and baseball glove in the passenger seat.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself with a heavy heart, your father’s dog tags cutting into the palm of your hand as the memories assaulted you – the flames, the heat, the pain.

“I’m a survivor, and that’s not my fault,” you would tell yourself, kneeling in front of the headstone. 

John Winchester,

Loving husband and father

Mary Winchester,

“Angels are watching over you.”

Dean Winchester,

Beloved twin, playing baseball with the angels

Sammy Winchester,

Taken too soon, but loved beyond compare

“I’m a survivor, but I miss you all so much.”

anonymous asked:

Imagine Jaal's reaction to Aria sneezing (apparently Angara don't sneeze? He was confused by the notion when Cora explained biotics as a "big deadly sneeze or w/e) Ryder probably has like the cutest sneeze too. Tiny "chuu". Makes everyone awwww at her.

The first time Aria sneezed in front of Jaal has become one of the Angara’s favorite stories.

It had been on Elaaden - the dustiest planet in the cluster. Just a quick trip back to the Outpost, checking in on everything with both the settlers and the Krogan.

It had hit just as they’d gone back to the Tempest, nose tingling in warning as the feeling hit.

Aria took in a breath and closed her eyes as it hit, coming out in a tiny ‘ -choo’  that had her Crew laughing.

“Aw, Ryder, your sneezes are adorable.” Cora laughed, Liam echoing an agreement as she sneezed again, blushing.

“I know, I know, I sound like a mouse - Jaal?”

The Angara had gone very still and stiff, she realized, watching her with a sort of confused… fear?

“What is it? Are you ill?” he’d started towards her then paused when she sneezed again, looking panicked as he crossed the distance to cup her face, “What… is happening?!”

“Jaal, I’m fine! I’m just sneezing.” Aria felt bad laughing but couldn’t help it, hands covering his even as she fought back another sneeze, “Just from dust in my nose, it’s okay.”

“Sneezing?”

Aria nodded and then chooed again, losing the battle to hold it back.

Jaal’s expression switched to one of curiosity, then affectionate fascination. “You do sound adorable when you sneeze, Darling One. You are sure it is not harmful?”

“Not this type of sneezing, no, I promise I’m okay.” a breath and another sneeze and she grumbled a little, “Though it’d be nice if I could stop sneezing.”

“But why? It is a very endearing sound.”

“Oh, no, not you to.”


This turned into a quick little drabble haha hope you enjoy it anon! ♥ TY for the little ask :3

March 6

A quick little Wayhaught drabble for @haughtbreaker. Happy Birthday Nic! 


It happened suddenly on a nondescript day in March.

March 6, to be exact, when the frozen terrain of Purgatory was finally beginning to show signs of thaw after a long and harsh winter, the temperature ticking slowly up from bone-numbing hypothermia to a less threatening bite of frost.

It was the day Nicole Haught knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was gonna marry Waverly Earp.

The thought came unbidden to Nicole while she stood in the middle of the Earps’ living room on an uneventful Monday afternoon, her emotions zipping sharp and fast as she watched an adorable blush creep up Waverly’s neck.

“It’s, uh, the one you gave me,” Waverly explained, awkwardly gesturing toward the thin piece of card stock between Nicole’s fingers. “You know, when we first met.”

Of course Nicole knew. Even though it had been almost two years since that moment, she still remembered that day like it was yesterday. Flattered, Nicole traced a finger along a crease that ran down her old business card, off center, a white crinkle separating the words Purgatory and Sheriff. She had found it when Waverly asked her to grab a few dollars out of her purse to tip the delivery driver when he arrived. The small rectangle was tucked securely behind a picture they had taken at a carnival photo booth last summer, both making silly faces, tongues sticking out, so obviously happy and in love.

Waverly bit her lip. “What are you thinking?”

Marry me, Nicole’s mind whispered as her heart surged with unexpected, overwhelming affection. “I’m thinking–”

“Takeout’s here!” Wynonna interrupted, strolling in from the kitchen and chucking a thumb toward the front door. She glanced at Nicole’s hand. “What the hell, Haught? I need money, not your damn business card.”

Nicole bit her tongue, for once grateful for Wynonna’s poor timing. If she was going to propose, she was going to do it the right way. Waverly deserved that and so much more.

“I’m thinking…I can’t believe you kept it,” Nicole deflected, ignoring Wynonna.

“Of course I did.” Waverly smiled and stepped closer. “I keep everything you give me.”

“Really?”

“Ugh, yes, really.” Wynonna walked between them. “She’s got a box upstairs with all sorts of junk related to you.” She snatched the wallet from Nicole’s hands and pulled out a handful of bills before tossing it back. “Some ugly unicorn thing, ticket stubs, pictures, a stained coffee cup sleeve, which,” she screwed up her face, “gross.”

“It’s not gross,” Waverly protested, her entire face now flushed.

 “I think it’s adorable,” Nicole reassured her.

“Adorably psycho maybe.” Wynonna said with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “Don’t make out too long okay? I don’t want my Gong Bao chicken to go cold,” she said over her shoulder as she went outside to get their food.

“Don’t listen to her,” Nicole said, leaning down to give Waverly a quick kiss, soft and sweet.

“Mmm, I never do.” Waverly beamed as she pulled away. “Help me set the table?”

“Sure.” Nicole carefully tucked the card back into its spot behind the photo and placed the wallet back in Waverly’s purse. She followed her girlfriend to the kitchen, stealing another kiss before Wynonna got back, all the while thinking about the next thing she’d give to Waverly; something she hoped Waverly would keep forever.

I Could Kiss You

Josh Dun x Reader | masterlist

Anonymous asked: For the writing prompt thing I really like 12) “Say it!” or 13) “I could kiss you right now!”, so maybe both? If possible? And with Josh? :)

A/N: This is the shortest fic I’ve written so far but I hope you enjoy! It’s just a quick little drabble! I also tried to keep the reader gender neutral! xx


“I cannot find my keys. I mean.. They’re gone. I have no clue where they are. I’m gonna be late!” Josh said as he ran around throwing stuff, trying to find his car keys. Josh was your best friend, that you may or may not have feelings for. (Definitely have feelings for.) He had come over to game a bit before heading to the studio. You stood up from where you were sitting to grab his keys that he was somehow failing to notice. “Ugh, you’re the best Y/N. What would I do without you?” he asked, grabbing his keys and pulling you in for a hug. “Without me? You’d be late for work. Now go!” you responded with a giggle as you pulled away. He smiled again and left.

Keep reading

Found You (Soulmate!Jinho x Reader)

Rating: PG-13

(A/N): Here’s a quick little semi-drabble about Pentagon’s Jinho in a soulmate AU! Enjoy!!!! (He rude af thooooooooooooo boiiiiii)

Originally posted by yeo1

“The heart knows when the search is over.” -Unknown


“How is it,” he murmured deeply into your hair, his hot breath warming the chilled skin of your neck, settling the goosebumps there. “That I deserved someone like you?”

“I could ask the same thing,” you whispered, giggling lightly when his soft lips tickled the sensitive spot just below you ear. It made your neck scrunch and bump into his gently at the feeling, your toes curling in soft pleasure as he suckled at your skin, a bruise surely on its way.

Keep reading

Beer Therapy

Quick little drabble of Scott and Liam doing what they do best; Drink beer and be bros. This time, with a very particular topic in mind.
Full Scott/Liam Bromance mode with slight Scott/Reyes fluff.
_________________________________
“Well… Do you love him?”
Scott couldn’t help the little gulp of beer he’d just swallowed choke at the back of his throat. They had just been watching a Blasto movie, during an exceptionally explosive scene when the question suddenly came forth.
“Excuse me?”
Liam leveled him with a questioning, searching stare. “Do you love him?”
“What? Who? Blasto?” Scott asked incredulously. The look on his friends face said otherwise. Oh. “Reyes?”
Liam scoffed. “Ding ding ding, and the award goes to…” Scott chuckled softly and kicked his leg out across the couch he was sharing with the energetic man, who in turn swiftly slapped his foot away. “Yes, Reyes. The Kadaran King.” He wrinkled his nose a little when he said it. “That title seems a little over the top. Didn’t take Vetra as a fan of the dramatic.”
“As the Pathfinder-Baroness of Kadara, I’m offended.” Scott returned, smiling as he took another swig of his beer.
“Yeah, yeah. But that’s what I’m getting at.” Suddenly, Liam’s face dropped it’s humor. “Obviously whatever you have going on is mutually beneficial. I still don’t like him much, but he was good to his word. We have an outpost that is thriving and protected, which is a lot more than most other people would have given us.” He swirled his own beer around in its bottle. “But you can’t be the Pathfinder all the time. You can’t have everything be about what benefits us most.” He cautiously looked over at Scott. “You need to have something that’s just for you sometimes.”
Scott smiled softly in return. “Something normal?”
“Something normal.” Liam agreed.
Scott sighed and pulled his legs in closer to his chest. He deliberated the question, since it was a good one. It wasn’t so much that he hadn’t thought of it himself… more than a few nights were spent staring aimlessly at his ceiling. He just wasn’t sure if he could nail down an actual answer. “I… I don’t know!” He said, exasperated, throwing his hands in the air. A little beer sloshed out at the motion. “Why does everything have to be about love? Why can’t I just enjoy being in his company?”
“Because it’s more than that at the very least.” Liam shot back. “I’ve known you for how long now? Had to cover you how many times when your flings around the Nexus started catching up to you? You’re a serial flirt, I know that. I know what you just having fun looks like. This isn’t it.” He stared at his bottle angrily. “You’re my Pathfinder, sure, but more than that you’re my best friend. I tell you everything.” He pointed at Scott with his index finger, the others still clenching tightly to his drink. “You should be able to do the same.”
There was an uneasy silence that fell over them for a while. After staring him down for what felt like an eternity, Scott realized this was going to be something Liam didn’t budge on. He sighed in resignation, looking at the corner of the video screen in front of them, the movie long forgotten by now. Suddenly, all he could see was caramel skin, all he could smell was spices and whiskey. “I don’t know, Liam. That’s my honest answer.” He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead in frustration, his pulse quickening. Thoughts of warm breath on his cheek filled his mind. ‘I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us, Scott.’
“I do care about him. More than… more than anyone else. More than is probably good for me.” He then threw back his weight onto the cushion behind him in defeat. His eyes fell to the floor. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Reyes.’ “I don’t know if I want to attach a word to it yet. I think I’m afraid to.” He all but whispered.
’You will have secrets… that’s who you are. Just don’t lie to me about the big stuff.’
Liam kept his gaze on him in silence for a long while, keeping whatever thoughts going through his head a mystery. “Does he love you?”
Scott flushed instantly with red hot emotion, just the notion of it setting his stomach on fire. Flashes of those golden eyes softening, a strong arm wrapped protectively around his waist as they slowly danced, devilish lips curling with more than flirtation… with warmth. 
‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’
‘For accepting me.’ 
“I don’t know.” He whispered again, his heart tightening in his chest. Suddenly he craved whiskey instead of beer. “I hope so.”
Again, silence.
Thankfully, Liam broke it this time. “You shouldn’t be afraid to love someone. You should be careful about trusting them maybe, but love brings people home. Love keeps you fighting.”
Scott stared at his friend, a new sensation filling his chest. Damn, he just had to travel 600 years to find a friend like this? He would’ve done it sooner if he’d known. “Careful,” He started, voice thick with emotion. “You’ll start to run Lexi out of half her job as my personal therapist.”
Liam smiled widely at his friend, raising his beer up. “To beer therapy!”
Scott laughed loudly, clinking his bottle against the other, explosion sounds ringing in the background. “To beer therapy.”