second of all who hits guys on the head with lead pipes

Misfire [Chapter 2]

Summary: The four times Bucky tries to ask you out and fails.

Warnings: couple of swear words, that’s all!

a/n: The response I got for the first part was u n r e a l. Thank you guys so much! I hope you enjoy part 2, because it might be one of my favorites ;)

Chapter 1

The Sight

“Love letters!” Steve snapped his fingers dramatically.

“The fuck you mean ‘love letters’?” Bucky frowned.

“Language!” Tony chided, making Bucky snort and Steve shake his head while mumbling under his breath.

“Write her a love letter. You know, ‘Oh Y/N you’re so great, I’m totally in love with you’ blah blah,” Steve continued, glaring at Tony who was smirking at him. 

“I’m not in love with her,” he sighed, leading both of them to roll their eyes at him eerily simultaneously.

“Okay, sure. And Rogers here didn’t make a hole in the wall with the toaster because he couldn’t figure out how to use it.” 

“Hey! I am not-”

“Okay whatever. How do I give it to her?” Bucky interrupted their banter before it upscaled.

“Slip it under her door?” 

“No, wait. Put it in her designated mailbox. That way you won’t get caught if she suddenly opens her door,” Tony raised, talking about the separate mailboxes the team had for themselves so as to not read each other’s private matters.

Too many times had Clint mocked Sam for his addiction to Vogue when they showed up in the mail addressed to him.

“Yeah, that would work.” He nodded his head

“Well go! Start writing!” Steve urged him, nearly pushing him off the couch they were all lounging around on.

Bucky caught himself on the arm rest just before he fell, shooting a hard look at Tony who was sniggering. He dusted himself off and straightened up before sauntering off, growing red at the thought of what he wanted to write to you.

Dear Y/N

Hey Y/N

Yo Y/N hows it going bruh

Hi there

He sighed, finally feeling content with the opening part he had spent the past fifteen minutes trying to perfect.

I like you

I love you?

I think youre gr8 10/10 would recommend

I adore you

He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.

You have no clue who this is

I hope you never find out who this is

dude im hella sure you have no fuckin idea who i am and that’s good but like

It may not hit you right away as to who I am, but I can assure you that I am very much prominent in your life.

You’re beautiful, and I want to say so much more, but words cannot express how captivating you really are.

Bucky stared blankly at the piece of paper he had drafted this on, feeling the heat creep up his neck at how cheesy it all was.

He wondered if he should write more. 

“Oh, fuck it,” he mumbled, signing it off with ‘Your teammate’.

As he nibbled on his cereal, his mind drifted to whether you had received it or not. It had been a few days since he had dropped it into your mailbox and had yet to notice a sign as to whether you had seen it or not.

The team surrounded him, with the exception of you and Sam. Presumably gone to get your morning drink from Starbucks.

As Bruce passed around another plate of bacon, a loud boisterous laughter interrupted everyone’s chatter, making them turn their heads to the doorway.

Sam and you stood there, both of you red in the face but for completely different reasons. 

You were crimson from laughter and Sam…Sam was red for a whole another cause.

“Who the fuck left this in my mailbox?” he panted, clutching a white lined notebook paper and Bucky almost fainted.

That was the letter he meant to post to you.

“What’s that?” he swallowed thickly, earning Sam’s gaze.

“A-a confession letter! About someone’s feelings!” He almost yelled. He was scandalised to say the least.

“What does it say?” Nat piped up, eyebrows furrowed and Bucky could swear his heart stopped.

“Hi there. I adore you,” Sam began, but was interrupted by another fit of laughter from you, soon joined in by Tony who sent a knowing look to Bucky. 

Bucky sank lower in his seat, if that was even possible.

“It may not hit you right away as to who I am, but I can assure you that I am very much prominent in your life.” Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, eyes scanning over the next set of words.

“What more?” Tony prompted him to go on, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Um- You’re, uh, beautiful, and I want to say so much more, but words cannot express how-” He coughed loudly to express his distaste- “captivating you really are.”

And now there were four people who were ruby red- two from embarrassment and two from laughing too hard.

Of course the latter included Tony, who knew exactly what was going on. You were just laughing at the expression on poor Sam’s face.

“Which one is your box?” Bucky asked meekly, already knowing the answer but not understanding how he had messed it up.

“The second one from the left, second row.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Why, you know who put this in?”

“How does it matter, Sam?” Steve quickly jumped in, trying to save his friend from further humiliation.

“There is someone in the room right now who is in love with me, of course it matters! Look y’all. Y’all are great and shit, but you’re definitely not on the same level as I am. I’m clearly a 10, and you’re probably all a 5 or 6. Barnes is a 4. Barton is a 3,” he added quickly, earning protests from Clint who had his face stuffed with eggs.

“Now, I’m asking you again, Barnes. Did you see someone out this in?”

Uhh-” he began to stammer nervously. “Umm-”

“It was Tony,” Steve blurted out, immediately biting his lip as Tony spat out his orange juice.

“What the FUCK?!” Tony bellowed, wiping at his chin furiously while Sam had the most flabbergasted look on his face. “It wasn’t me! It was Barnes!”

“What?! No!” He quickly regained his composure, glancing around in urgency. “It was Steve!”

“Steve?” Sam looked mortified, and rightly so. 

“Jesus, no! It wasn’t me!” He threw his hands up in despair.

“Which one of you was it?!” 




Jesus fucking Christ.” Sam groaned, slapping his forehead.

All three of them glared at each other simultaneously, obviously mad at the other for blaming them.

“Even if this is some sort of joke, I’m not dating any of you.” His expression was half in between appalled and shocked as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving you at the doorway.

Bucky broke away from the petty staring contest and towards you, beckoning you to sit next to him.

You strode towards the table, pulling out the seat and sitting next to him with a large smile, still finding the whole thing very funny.

“Are you laughing at the letter?” Bucky asked you lowly as the normal talk resumed to the table, probably centred around the commotion which had just occurred.

“No, I’m laughing at Sam’s expression. The letter was nice,” you whispered back and Bucky could feel a weight life off his shoulders as he smiled back at you.

Okay so maybe it wasn’t going great so far, but third time’s the charm, right?.

Chapter 3


@aya-fay, @imabookworm31, @allofthesearetakendafuq, @crapythings,@melonberri,@redstarstan, @buckysberrie,@jarnesbrnes, @imagination-imagines,@karollbey, @frnchhhh @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli,@talesoftheimpala@shamvictoria11, @knittingknerdy, @beccaanne814-blog, @catwomvn, @tchoolla, @a-reallyshadycroissant@intenselyupset, @iarnasoldat, @letterstomyself21, @kapolisradomthoughts, @cassandras-musings

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Like Father, Like Son

Title: Like Father, Like Son

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 2,167

Request: @imboredsueme - Reader and Sherlock have a really bad argument and break up, she realizes she was pregnant with his kid. Years later her curious son tracks down the detective.

A/N: I’ve hit 1,000 followers!!! This is crazy and I couldn’t have ever imagined this would happen. Anyway….. This was the most requested of all my imagines in my ‘to-do’ list so thanks to everyone who voted and please enjoy! If you’d like to request an imagine message me or leave me an ask, my plates pretty full right now but I’ll add it to the list and hopefully get to it soon. If you’re not on my tag list already and want to be let me know! As always- feel free to message me if you need anything or just feel like saying hello!


    “William?” You bellowed from the kitchen. Your son hadn’t come down for dinner yet and you were beginning to  worry.

    “William your food’s gonna get cold, love-” You marched through the hall and opened his bedroom door, losing your voice when you saw his window open and his sheets tied to the drain pipe outside.

    “William!” You shrieked and ran to the window, sticking your head out. You looked at the drop from the second floor, it wasn’t much but you still worried for your small child.

    Pulling your head back inside, you yanked the window closed and began searching for a sign of where he’d gone. You turned and noticed your phone lying on his dresser. That wasn’t where you left it, your eyebrows scrunched together and you read the screen it was left on. A Google search - Sherlock Holmes- leading to his website with his address: The Science of Deduction.

    You cursed yourself for ever telling William his name. You could barely keep up with him, he was always 12 steps ahead of you, and he was only 6! Sighing, you looked out the window once more, knowing where he must have gone.

    You grabbed your phone and keys, running out of your flat. His name floated around your head. Memories that you had tried to forget stringing back together in your mind.

     “How many more times is this going to happen, Sherlock?” You yelled, you’d been stood up one time too many and you were sick of it. Sitting there, promising the waiter he would come, only to be left sitting there an hour later. All eyes on you as you left some cash at the table and finally gave up.

    “It’s never seemed to bother you before.” He argued.

    “Oh I promise you it has. You’re just never around to notice it.” You yelled back.

    “Well I’m sorry if my job is a little more important than you.” He growled. Your stomach dropped. You knew he felt that way, but hearing him say it out loud made it feel real, and it killed you.

    “I see…” You said quietly, shaking your head and turning towards the door.

    “Y/N, I didn’t mean-” he began, realizing what he said.

    “Yes you did, Sherlock, that’s the problem. You did mean it. I’ve never been enough for you, I’ve never been more important than your cases. I can barely hold your attention for more than a few minutes. Sorry I wasn’t clever enough or fascinating enough for you.” you yelled, grabbing some of your stuff and shoving it into your bag.

    “What are you doing?” He asked, seriously.

    “What does it look like genius?” You shot back.

    “You’re leaving.” He spoke, as if it was a question.

    “Not that you’ll notice.” You responded, truthfully.

    “Don’t go.” He pleaded, but he didn’t sound very convincing.

    “Make me. Sherlock, tell me I mean more to you than a case does. That you’d rather spend time with me then be out solving some crime. Tell me that, honestly, and I’ll stay.” You pleaded. If he couldn’t tell you that, then your relationship wasn’t going where you thought it was.

    You waited for an answer. His mouth moved as if he was about to speak, but stopped and he looked to the floor, he stayed silent for far too long.

    “Goodbye Sherlock.” you scoffed, closing the door, ending that chapter of your life.

     Your feet hit the dirty pavement, running, praying. You knew Baker Street was only about a mile away, but you prayed that’s where he was. That he’d be okay, that if he was anywhere it was there. Because if he wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him. Even if he is there, you weren’t ready to face this. To be drawn back to him: Sherlock Holmes.

    Ever since William was born he had been causing you trouble. He wasn’t a bad kid, he was just so much smarter than you and so curious. It scared you how much he reminded you of Sherlock. Jesus, he even looked exactly like him. A miniature little Sherlock running around wreaking havoc on your life. But you loved the havoc, and you loved your son.

    You remembered the day you found out you were pregnant with William.

    “Mate, I’m going to the store do you need anything? Tampons? Food? Breakup ice cream?” Sharon, or Shazza as everyone called her, asked you on her way out of your shared flat.

    “No thanks, I’ll be fine.” you laughed, but stopped when your roommate closed the door. You hadn’t needed those in a while… you counted on your finger how many months it’s been since you last period. Jesus.

    You called your roommate a couple minutes later after frantically flipping through your calendar to make sure the dates lined up. You were trapping your foot anxiously, hoping she could discreetly pick up a pregancy test for you.

    “Shazza, could you do me a favor?” You asked hurriedly when she picked up the phone.

    “Finally gonna let me set you up with that guy from my spin class?” You could feel her smirk through the phone.

    “No, listen while you’re out I need you to pick up something for me.” You spoke slowly.

    “Sure love, what?” She asked, casually.

    “A pregnancy test.” You whispered into the phone. No one was around but you felt embarrassed.

    “Are you serious?” She yelled back.

    “Shh, yes.”

    “I thought you were on the pill!” She exclaimed, just as shocked as you were. You could only imagine the looks she was getting in the store right now.

    “I am!” You retorted.

    “I swear to God if that bastard knocked you up–” She began, but you stopped her mid-rant.

    “Shazza! Please just get one…” You pleaded.

    “Jesus ok, I’ll be home soon.” She said, hanging up the phone, leaving your mind to wander until she returned to confirm your suspicions.

    You’ve always heard it said that waiting for a pregnancy test result was “ the longest five minutes of your life”. You thought that was an exaggeration but jesus were they right.

    “What does it say?” Shazza asked after the timer went off.

    “I don’t know, I can’t look. You do it.” You closed your eyes, scared.

    “Oh my god,” Was her only reply.

    “‘Oh my god’ what?” Your eyes flew open, scanning her face.

    “You’re pregnant!” She jumped, a genuine smile on her face.

    “I’m pregnant…” You couldn’t help but be happy, you’ve always wanted a child. Although you pictured it happening differently.

    “Are you gonna tell him?” She asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

    “No.” You answered simply.

    “No! Why not?” She yelled.

    “Because! Because he hates kids, he’d never have time for a family. Frankly the best thing will be for him not to know, I can take care of this child on my own, thank you very much.” You said proudly.

    “Damn you’re stubborn,” she smiled and shook her head,”but I’ll be here, I’ll help you in whatever you need.”

    “Thanks Shazza.” You hugged her.

    “Anytime, love.”

     That was how William was brought into your life, a surprise at every turn since. All you wanted to do was protect him, and you feared in protected him you only caused him more pain.

    You had managed, raising a child on your own, but you feared he needed some fatherly contact that you just couldn’t provide.

    You were half way to Baker Street when it started to pour. You tried to catch a cab but none of them would stop. You were splashed by a passing car and groaned.

    You should have known this would happen, that he would search him out. It was just last week that the questions you normally avoided were given answers.

     “Mommy…I know you don’t like talking about it, but I have this family tree project for school and I…well my tree is half empty.” William held his drawing up to you. You were struck with a pang of guilt.

    “You don’t have to tell me now, only a name, I’ll understand.” He said, he always knew how to outsmart you.

    “Oh, baby, come here.” You patted the bed next to you and he jumped up. He positioned his paper and pencil and looked up to you, ready to write it down.

    “Sherlock.” You said quietly, it tasted strange in your mouth, foreign almost.

    “And his parents?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you. He really had you wrapped around his finger.

    “Uh.. Wanda and Tim.” You took a moment, hardly being able to remember. You’d only actually met them once, and they didn’t even know you and Sherlock were dating at the time. That must have been… almost 8 years ago now.

    “And did he have any brothers or sisters?” He asked. Thinking back on this you wondered if his ‘family tree project’ was even real, or just a ruse designed to get you to give up the name of his father.

    “A brother, Mycroft.” You watched as  he filled in the enlarged leaves on the tree and jumped off your bed.

    “Is that it?” You asked, surprised at his sudden absence.

    “Yes, thanks mummy!” He rushed away excitedly, you raised an eyebrow in suspicion but let it go and got back to your work.

     You were now standing in front of 221B Baker Street, soaked to the bone, frantically knocking on the door.

    “Y/N?” Sherlock answered the door, surprised to see you.

    “Is he here?” You asked hurriedly.

    “You’re soaking wet.” He said, pulling you inside.

    “Is he here!” You asked again.

    “Upstairs” He nodded. You ran past him, taking the stairs two by two, thanking God you weren’t wearing heels.

    “William!” You yelled, Sherlock was rushing behind you. You stepped into a familiar living room that hadn’t changed a bit only to see your son sitting by the fire sipping tea. Wearing his favorite shirt,little tie and coat.

    “Jesus I was so worried.” You knelt in front of his chair and hugged him, inspecting him, making sure he was okay.

    “I knew you would be, but I had to know, I’m sorry mummy.” He looked guilty. You kissed his forehead, knowing this time would come some day.

    “Y/N…” Sherlock said from the doorway, you stood and whipped around caught off guard, forgetting he was there.

    “Can we speak for a moment” He motioned out to the hall. You nodded, wrapping your arms around you to create some warmth and comfort. You were still soaking wet. Your hair dripping slightly onto the wood floors.

    “Is he mine?” He asked, wasting no time at all. You looked up to him and nodded.

    “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

    “Why would I. We had just broken up, I wanted nothing to do with you then.” You answered honestly.

    “And now?” He asked, hopefully.

    “Now?” You asked.

    “Now I’d like to be able to spend some time with my son. He’s almost too smart for his own good. I mean jesus he looks just like me, I want to make sure he doesn’t turn out like I did.” Sherlock looked to the floor.

    “What are you saying?” You reached out and took his hand, you could tell he was struggling to find his words and you tried to comfort him.

    “I’m saying I’d like to help, in any way you’ll let me. I’d like to be there for him. I’m sorry, for the way things ended, the way I treated you, never being there. I’d like to be there now. Please.” He spoke with so much sincerity that you would argue this wasn’t the same Sherlock you left 6 years ago. Something had changed, he’d changed, seemingly for the better.

    “Alright, but only because he needs his father. I’ll need time, Sherlock, to adjust to this.” You whispered, realizing how close the two of you were standing.

    “I know. Thank you” He kissed your forehead, and headed back inside the living room, only to see William looking through old case files on his desk.

    “What’s this?” William asked curiously, raising a photograph in the air.

    “A beheaded nun.” Sherlock said, casually glancing at it.

    “Jesus” You rushed over to the desk and pulled the picture out of his hands.

    “Cool.” William said, now curious, wanting more of Sherlock’s crazy life.

    “Most certainly not cool.” You said. They both looked up to you and rolled their eyes. Like father, like son.

    You couldn’t help but smile at how similar they were, and how your life had seemed to fall back into place. Your son gained the father he’d secretly needed, and you gained back the man who was once the love of your life.

    It would be hard: going back to some sense of normalcy, forgiving sherlock completely, but watching your son look upon him with admiration and love was going to make the process so much easier.

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The Me Only He See’s

Jughead x Reader 
Prompt: Y/N is sick of her overbearing parents so decided to sneak out to see Jughead. 
Warnings: Mild Smut references

“Right guys, I should be getting home” you sigh, grabbing your bag from under the table. It was only 10pm but you knew your parents would be expecting you home anytime now.

“Can’t you break curfew just once” Jughead pouted, grabbing your hand, trying to pull you back down to the seat.
“You know I can’t Juggie” you pout back.
“She’s too good” Betty smirks. Betty used to think that she had overpowering parents until she met yours. How your mom tried to dress you like you were three, how they checked your schoolwork every morning to make sure everything was done, how you weren’t allowed to be out past ten thirty on school nights and past eleven on weekdays. Yes, they were definitely insane. You had no other choice but to be too good.
“Can’t you just say that your studying with us for a test tomorrow?” Veronica asks, she hadn’t met your parents yet, which was clear.

“Not a chance that would work on my mom” you laugh, throwing your bag over your shoulder before before turning your attention back to Jughead who had his hand still stuck to yours. The two of you had been best friends for years, it was only a couple of months ago that the two of you finally got together after Betty confessed to him in a moment of weakness how badly you were crushing on him. He luckily felt the same, saving you from months of awkwardness.

You pout back at him again before leaning down to kiss him. As you lean he tried to drag you down onto the seat but you stand strong, breaking the kiss and laughing at his sweet attempt to get you to stay. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow” you continue to laugh as you head for the door.

You lie in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling as you think. Your mom had been worse then usual when you got home, you made it ten minutes before cerfew but that didn’t stop her obsessing with where you had been, who you had been with, what you did, e.c.t. e.c.t. When you mentioned Betty’s name to her she smiled, she new the Coopers very well and was there for them throughout everything that happened with Polly, not that I was proud of either of them for it when Betty told me what really happened to Polly.

The moment you mentioned Jughead her face dropped though. She used to love Jughead. The two of you were always round at each others houses as kids, playing games with him and his sister Jellybean. His family was like your family. But as soon as Jughead’s mom and Jellybean left my mom got suspicious, she knew something was wrong. That’s when she suddenly turned against Jughead, thinking he had pushed his mom away, assuming she left because he was too bad for her to handle. No matter how many times I tried to explain the truth to her, how Jughead was living at the drive in and you wanted to help him, let him stay here, she never wanted to listen. You somehow managed to keep your relationship from her, knowing she was try to ban you from seeing him again.

You stir and stir, unable to sleep in the state of annoyance of how un-trusting your parents were. Why couldn’t they just let you be a normal teenager who stayed out at night, hung out with their friends without a care. Not being under house arrest constantly.
Why didn’t you have the confidence to defy them. Just because they wanted you to be at home asleep right now, didn’t mean you really had to be asleep right now…

Quietly getting up out of bed you walk over to your wardrobe, grabbing a pair of jeans, a vest top and your leather jacket. You change as quietly as possible, hoping the slight creaking of floorboards wasn’t going to ruin everything you were planning in your head. You walk over to the window, quietly opening it and staring down at the ground. It wasn’t a huge drop to te grass below but there was a drain pipe right next to your room to make things easier. You stand there for a second, the cold air of the night hitting your face as you think about what you are doing. If your parents wake up to find you gone they wee surely going to be worse, earlier curfews, no more friend. But as you look across the sky which was barely lit with lights shining out of peoples windows, you feel a sense of defiance you had never felt before. A rush of adrenaline enters your veins as you begin to lift yourself out of the window. 

To Jughead: You up?? x

To Y/N: I am indeed, surprised you are though. What’s up? x

To Jughead: Come outside and see…

You smirk as you stand outside the drive in theatres shack, leaning against the fence opposite. You were still feeling such a high from climbing out of the window, seeing Jughead at this time of night was making things so much more exciting. After a few minutes the door to the shack opens. A confused Jughead looks out, his hair all messy from laying down, his hat not sat on his head which surprised you for a second, you could have sworn he slept in that thing. He was dressed in a pair of black sweat pants and a grey baggy top. His eyes looked tired but they soon widened, adjusting to the darkness.

“What the hell?” he finally says, looking at you leaning on the fence. You give him a cheeky smile before walking over to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought we could go on a little adventure”
“Who are you? What have you done with my girlfriend?” he smirks when you finally reach him, placing a hand onto his chest, making him look suprised at how forward you were being.
“Well, I could just go home and go back to being miss goody two shoes, or you could come out and find out what plans I have for you” you say as sexy as possible, feeling like a completely different person in the moment. 

“Hmmm, intriguing” he smirks, his eyes a mix of suggestive and curious, getting to grips of this new side he was seeing of you. You decide to take advantage of the moment and lean up, crashing your lips onto him. It takes him a second to react but soon his lips kiss back hungrily. He begins to bite your bottom lip lightly, pulling it away.  You throw one hand into his hair, pulling him deeper as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for access. You decide to tease him, pulling his hair, making him moan onto your lips as you smirk, knowing you were getting him hot. It was a kiss unlike any kiss you two had had before, they were usually sweet and innocent, this one was fast and passionate. A certain desperation between both of you. This sudden confidence leads you to pull your lips from his, kissing lightly down his jawline which was rough with stubble where he had forgotten to shave, and to his neck, sucking lightly on a sensitive spot. He moans again as he places a hand on your back, attempting you pull you into the shack with him, but you pull back, there was so much to do with tonight.

He tips his head backwards, looking up at the sky as he catches his breath.
“Are you coming then?” you raise an eyebrow, walking towards the exit of the drive in.

The Only Exception (Part 2)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3,460

Warnings: language, fluff, hot firemen, drinking, (one) sexual innuendo, sarcasm, advice-giving for sad situations

A/N: I got so mad that I accidentally deleted my effing chapter. All your lovely notes and comments are gone; I’m sorry. This is a repost. I’m not retagging.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Originally posted by closer-to-the-edge-of-glory

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Story by Sixpenceee user UnsettlingStories; Tumblr

We thought we were having a hell of a hailstorm when we woke up in the middle of the night to a peal of thunder and the sound of our cabin being pelted. It went on for about a minute, then it stopped. There wasn’t any rain, which was strange. We went back to sleep, faintly aware of the smell of something burning. I figured it was probably from a lightning strike somewhere else.

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This is a late fill for @rebelcaptainprompts #11 - Confined. 

Summary: After years of stern lectures, Jyn can’t help but enjoy herself when she gets called to bail her foster parents Baze and Chirrut out of jail. The enjoyment increases when she meets Officer Cassian Andor, who tries to make their case to his by-the-book partner Kay.

This is a one-shot for now, but I’m intrigued by foster parents Chirrut and Baze taking in tough little Jyn so let me know if you want to see more with this au. 

read it on ao3

“Do not call her,” Baze says gruffly.

“Bodhi isn’t going to answer,” Chirrut insists.

“You don’t know that,” his husband responds. But of course, he’s right. Normally their son always picks up on one of the first rings, but this time Baze gets the answering machine.

Luckily they both get a phone call.

So Chirrut calls Jyn. And Baze can hear her laugh from across the room where he sits in the cell. Despite his annoyance, he feels the corner of his lips twitch up ever so slightly at the sound. He remembers the days when she never laughed.

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anonymous asked:

Support!reader who has a crush on cuties of your choice that are of a different class, but they're nervous about making a move because "oh I'm just a medic. I'm not nearly as impressive as they are"

(Let’s go withhh…Hanzo, D.Va, and Junkrat!)


Genji quietly watched as you watched Hanzo, waiting for the moment when you’d get up and actually say something to him.

“It has been a long time since someone has expressed romantic interest in my brother,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” you sighed wistfully.

“And he often looks lonely after missions,” he continued.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you mumbled, eyes still glued to the archer.

“…So!” Genji finally groaned.

“So what?” you snapped, finally turning to him.

“Go talk to him!”

“T-Talk to him?” you stuttered nervously, “No way, th-there’s no way he’d want to talk to me. Especially since he’s busy with those targets…”

“He’s always busy with targets,” Genji rolled his eyes from behind his visor, “He doesn’t need the extra practice, he just does it when he’s lonely or troubled,”

“It’s nice to watch…” you smirked a little, watching as his muscular arms drew back the bow.

“[Name!]” Genji brought you back to reality, “Why don’t you go talk to him. You’ve had this crush on him since you came to Overwatch, but you never make a move!”

“Well that’s because–I mean–he’s a sharpshooter, a sniper, a strong warrior of Overwatch! And I’m just a support unit…I hop in and out of fights to help people, relying on my teammates to protect my sorry butt…”

Genji sighed, “So you’re intimidated? Is that it?”

“…Yeah…” you admitted.

“[Name], I’m an offense unit,” he said bluntly, “You weren’t afraid to approach me,”

“Th-this is different,” you stammered, “I didn’t have a crush on you,”

“[Name], none of us think you’re a useless addition to the team. We all value our support units, especially you,” Genji explained softly, “Nobody would ever belittle you for your support status, especially Hanzo. I think he admires those who can save lives so easily,”

You shifted uncomfortably as you thought it over. It was just that grim, dead-set face Hanzo always had. He seemed like he never had time for anyone much less little support units.

“We are defined by who we are, not what we are,” Genji concluded, sounding just as zen as his master.

Taking a deep breathe, you nodded, “Ok, you’re right! I need to stop telling myself I’m not good enough! I-I just…need to go over to him…a-and say something,”

“That’s the spirit!” Genji cheered.

“Well go on,” he urged.

“I can’t. My feet feel like they’re stuck!” you whimpered nervously.

“Just get out there already!” Genji laughed, giving you a nudge towards his brother.

Stumbling forward, you watched the archer hit another bull’s-eye, pulling another arrow to his bow. Cautiously, you came up next to him, watching him release the arrow and hit another target in the center.

“Hello, [Name],” he said gruffly, still totally concentrated on his work, “Is there something you need?”

He looked so scary and powerful! Why were you trying to waste his time?! Aaagh! Nervously, you glanced back towards Genji for some kind of help. The cyborg just gave a little “go on” gesture.

“A-Actually…” you mumbled anxiously, “I–uh–came to watch your target practice a-and um take notes! Yeah, my…my aim really i-isn’t very good so um I mean yours is! So I thought I-I could learn a thing or–uh–two from you…I mean as long as that doesn’t bother you, you know…”

Hanzo suddenly stopped midway from grabbing another arrow. Then his eyes slowly turned toward you, looking more surprised than usual.

“You…want me to teach you?” he asked with a hopeful look in his eye.

“Ummm…” you glanced back to Genji who was nodding furiously and giving you a thumbs-up, “Y-Yes! If it’s not too much trouble!”

“Of course not,” Hanzo shook his head, picking up a practice bow and handing it to you, “I’ve noticed your aim in battle. I was hoping you would try to fix it,”

You cringed. Were you really that bad at hitting your targets?

“But I am glad you sought me out to help you,” he gave a slight smile, “I was afraid you had been avoiding me,”

“Avoiding? Heh, nah o-of course not!” you giggled.

“Support units seem to be so nervous around me,” he said in a ponderous tone, “I was beginning to worry that I had been frightening you away…”

“No, no, it’s not th-that!” you tried to tell him, “I’m shy by nature, I promise!”

He tapped his finger to his chin a few moments before saying, “Very well, let us begin with your stance,”

Your whole face grew hot as Hanzo suddenly stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and guiding your hands into the right positions. Then he nudged your foot with his and instructed you to tighten your grip. You glanced back at Genji again, who looked like he was laughing from behind his visor.


You always admired D.Va so much. She fearlessly flew into every fight with her meka, disrupting the enemy’s ranks and wreaking havoc. Then just when they thought they had taken down her meka, she’d shout “nerf this!” and blow them all to smithereens! You thought she was simply amazing and almost made you wish that you were a tank unit. But you were just a support unit, sticking back with the offense units and keeping them supplied with shields and heals.

But one day, during a really rough battle, D.Va started calling on her comm link for extra backup: things like more firepower, defense, and a support unit to keep her going. No other supports responded, so you were the one to answer her call and move to the front lines. It was scary as all hell up there, explosions and bullets flying, yet Hana kept her cool like it was another day at the arcade!

“Thanks for coming to help guys! Their snipers are really annoying but their offense won’t let me get close to them! Could you guys keep their offense busy?” she explained, then turned to you, “And [Name], could you pocket heal me? My meka’s gonna fall apart without your heals!”

“U-Uh–yes! Yes ma’am!” you piped almost like a robot.

“Hee hee!!” Hana snorted, “Who’s ma’am? I’m D.Va, silly!”

You felt a little blush form on your face as she laughed her bubbly laugh.

“R-Right, D.Va…” you muttered.

“Let’s mooove out!” she cheered excitedly, taking off with her boosters.

Somehow you were able to keep up, steadily healing her as she disrupted the snipers, disarming them and booping them out of their nests. It was really hard at times; sometimes her meka’s health would go dangerously low even as you healed her all you could. But luckily, her meka never got wrecked…well until she wrecked it herself.

“Snipers eliminated!” she reported happily into her comm link, then looked back to you, “Watch this, [Name]!”

With that, she boosted her meka into the air, ejecting at the last second and sending it into self-destruct mode. It turned into a big ball of light, soaring through the air and eventually landing in the enemy base with a KABOOM! You watched awe-struck as the whole sky lit up and the base flew into a thousand pieces.

“Woohoo! Bonus points!” Hana cheered.

“That was amazing…” you breathed.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” she shrugged, “But I couldn’t have done it without you, [Name]. Your healing was what really kept me going!”

You blushed again, staring down at your shoes bashfully, “I mean, I wasn’t that great. Nothing different from what I usually do…”

“Hey!” she grinned, taking you by the hand and leading you back to your own base, “Do you wanna hang out sometime?”

“H…Hang out?” you couldn’t believe someone as famous and strong as D.Va was asking you to “hang out!”

“Uh-huh, you know that thing that people do when they wanna spend more time with each other?” she chuckled at you.

Your expression slowly dropped, remembering your place.

“But…you’re a tank unit, and I’m a support unit…” you mumbled.

“Yeah? Why is that important?” she shrugged.

“Because I’m just a support unit,” you admitted, “Don’t you want to hang out with someone cooler like another tank or attack unit?”

“Nope!” she smiled, “I wanna hang out with you, [Name]! Units don’t matter! They’re just dumb, stuffy titles,”

With that she slung an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, making you stiffen up. You were so close to her! She smelled like bubblegum and new car…

“So what do you want to do? We could play video games or go to the arcade or go shopping–ooh! Do you like ice cream? I know this great place that gives me free…”

She’d be talking all the way back to base.


“Oi! I need healin’!” “Where’s my heals?” “Oi! Healer, over here!”

Why did you have to fall for a guy who treated supports like servants? Why did he only ever call you “Healer” or “Doc?” He was so tall and lanky, yet muscle-y at the same time, with a cute laugh and an outgoing attitude. Junkrat was everything you looked for in a guy, despite your friends saying you were crazy for it.

But you never once made a move. It always seemed like an arsonist would never have any time for a support unit, especially when he seemed to think they were so unimportant to the team. A lot of the other support units would get bad at him for his rude tone around him. They’d punish him with a smack on the head or a “no heal” policy for at least one battle. Some supports had given up on healing him altogether–he was the one who’d accidentally drop grenades on himself, after all.

But you just couldn’t keep yourself from healing him. It meant you got to admire him up close…even if you never said anything to him. Sometimes he’d even give you a little “Thanks, mate!” But as far as you were concerned, Jamison would never like a support unit. It wasn’t until the end of one of your missions that you were proven wrong.

“Hooly dooly, that was some fight!” Junkrat marveled at the wreckage as his hair smoked.

“No kidding,” you huffed as you tried to catch your breath, “I thought for sure we were gonna lose the point,”

“Same! We were the only ones on it!” he laughed, “I kept waitin’ for them to punt me off, but you kept me goin’!”

“Oh, yeah whatever,” you shrugged as you flopped down on the ground exhausted, “Well you did all the hard work,”

“Me? You were the one dodgin’ all those bullets and givin’ me all them buffs!” he pointed out as he sat down next to you, “I wouldn’t’ve been able to hold the point if it weren’t for you!”

A small blush crept its way onto your face, but you quickly shook your head and waved your hand dismissively.

“No, I wouldn’t have survived it if it weren’t for you blowing up anyone who came close to me.”

Seriously. Any flanker who’d try to sneak up on you would get a “Not my healer, you bitch!” from Junkrat.

“Well at least we can admit we work well together, eh?” he chuckled.

“Sure…” you mumbled bashfully, “Why not?”

“Eh c’mon, why ya hidin’ yer face now?” he smirked as he took your chin and gently guided it toward him.

“I-I’m not!” you squeaked in shock.

You hadn’t expected him to do that! His fingers felt all sooty and calloused…

“Yeah you are!” he sang.

“Sh-shut up…” you pouted, pulling away.

“Oi, why can’t ya just accept the complement?” he whined.

You crossed your arms, “Because I know you don’t mean it. You don’t care about support units in the slightest, Jamison,”

“The hell I do!” he retorted, “Well, only the good ones, that is,”

You gave him a glare and he put up his hands in defense, “I get it, I get it, you support-y types don’t like me. But you’re one of the only good ones on the team! You actually heal me and stick by me unlike all the other pricks who up and leave me for being ‘rude.’”

“But you, [Name], you’re a healer I can lean on!” he grinned, “ya’ve never let me down! That’s what I like about you!”

That’s what he…liked about you? Your face went red as you processed his words, looking like you had seen a giant spider.

“So…you don’t hate support units?” you asked.

“Hate ‘em? Nah!” he cackled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him, “Just drongos who don’t give me the time of day!”

Slowly, a smile appeared on your lips as you melted into him, letting him hold you closer. Jamison was a prickly guy and hard to get close to, and you always thought you’d never get very far with him, but all that time you had spent around him had been one big step towards knowing the real him.

–Mod Sirana

Try-Hard (M) | 02 (Final)

Originally posted by jjungkook

Summary: Spending the night in Jungkook’s dorm leads to a misunderstanding, and now he’s been avoiding you since. However, Yoongi has a plan to get you guys to finally talk to each other. And he has just the party for it.

Members: Jungkook, ft. Yoongi continuing to be a little shit

Word Count: 5.7k

Genre: Fluff, smut

A/N: Here’s the second part of Try-Hard! Thank you all for your support and liking Rugby!Jungkook so much! Hopefully I can write more of him in the future, but for now, here’s the last part~

Part 1

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@door replied to your post

“hey send me vld hc prompts because i love my space kids and want to…”

Who gets that video game console working what games are there how terrible is Keith at them


  • it was hunk who finally got the system working
  • it had been a long ride but they had finally gotten shiro back and things were starting to calm down
  • there were a lot of revelations made over the past bit of time
    • there were galras who were good
    • there were alteans who were bad
    • keith was part galra
    • shiro’s lion could phase through shit
    • food goo actually tastes better when frozen
    • the castle swimming pool is accessible to non-alteans
    • the mice are great performers
  • the list goes on much longer
  • but the greatest revelation was hunk solving the problem of the video cord
  • pidge had been super swamped lately becuase of looking for matt and dr. holt
  • lance had been feeling down about his insecurities and homesickness
  • so hunk decided to do something
  • and hit two birds with one stone

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SERIES: bangtan smuts

MEMEBER: Taehyung


Taehyung knew he had you right where he wanted and right there he fucked it deeper, planting his seed and he was going to water that bitch so it could grow. You would love him there wasn’t any other way.

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OSF AU - All the Little Children (2/?)

Part 2: Wherein tiny thieves discuss the meaning of “turf,“ have a threatening chat, and throw down a gauntlet.

Sabo didn’t quite know how to break the news to Ace, but it was bad. He waited at the usual spot, pipe leaning against his shoulder and tapping it occasionally as he thought. There had to be a way to explain what was happening, but Sabo still wasn’t sure what they’d do next.

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We’re All Mad Here - Part Three

(Part One, Part Two)

Submitted by Alice

You didn’t know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere in between reliving your moments with Henry and watching the scenery whip by, you’d fallen asleep with your head resting against the passenger window. You were only jolted awake at the sound of some unfamiliar, industrial banging noises assaulting you from all sides.

You were definitely not in the village anymore.

When you opened your eyes, your uncle was pulling straight into the heart of Small Heath, and your breath caught in your throat. You could have been in an entirely different land, for how different Small Heath was compared to what you were used to.

All around you were graying buildings, squat and covered in layers of ash. Back at home, you could stand on your front porch and see pure green for miles—stretching out in front of you bare and empty. Here, all you saw was gray—gray smoke and gray people, milling about in the mud and dirt. Men with their heads down, hands in pockets, and a dangerous air about them. Children covered in black soot running and dodging between women holding shapeless bundles in their arms. Girls who were almost certainly prostitutes, flashing their calves on the corner, red lips split into stapled-back smiles.\

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Episode recap/review 12.22: "Who We Are"

THEN: Once again, we enter the Wayback Machine, and watch Roy and Walt murder our boys (does that mean one or both Winchesters are going to be murdered in this episode?) And some other things, culminating in the bunker being an excellent fortress and/or tomb. Come along, Mary.

NOW: Mary’s killing hunters and I don’t particularly care, except that she gets a text listing her next victims, which includes Jody Mills and suddenly I do care; I care quite a lot.

Title card!

The guys where we left them last week, locked in the bunker. Dean’s throwing switches, Sam’s talking about the garage and air vents, and Toni’s pointing out why every option he suggests won’t work. But she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with, does she? Dean says what we’re all thinking - let’s kill her to save on oxygen. But she says since she’s the one who programmed Mary, so she’s the only one who can deprogram her. Neither brother really believes it, but Sam seems to think they have nothing left to lose by keeping her alive. (Oxygen, Sam. That’s what you have to lose.)

Actually, she’s fairly useful, because knows an awful lot about the bunker. Like the fact that there’s a manual override that would undo everything Ketch did. And it’s outside the bunker. You know, if these guys happened to know anyone who wasn’t actually in the bunker with them, maybe that person could activate the manual override. Huh. Too bad they don’t have phones, and even if they did, they don’t know a single person on the outside. (Seriously. Did Ketch say something about blocking cell phone signals? Is praying to Cas really no longer an option?)

Sam suddenly realizes they have access to all sorts of spells and stuff, and maybe they should try that. And, being Sam, he finds a spell that might work - except it requires the blood of virgins. You’d think the MoL might have some of that in a vault somewhere, but instead, Sam suggests they “fake it” with a purification spell. Won’t be the first time they’ve re-virginized themselves, right? Toni refers to purfiying the blood and then using it in the spell as “two-step magic,” which I guess it is, and she seems maybe a tiny bit impressed. Maybe you’re finally realizing how awesome the Winchesters are, huh? Unfortunately, Ketch installed some kind of magic blocking, so the spell starts to work but then fails.

Day two. Dean says it’s time for brawn, not brains. He points out the one wall in the bunker that’s made of nothing but concrete, and behind it is an old sewer pipe (ew, how old, and does that mean unused?) that leads to the surface. They’re going to “straight up Shawshank this bitch.” In one of my favorite scenes in this entire episode, Dean heaves a sledgehammer at the wall and gets a faceful of concrete chips in return. “Goggles?” says Sam. “Goggles,” agrees Dean. It’s my second favorite scene ever that features Dean and a hammer.

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A Little Treat - Part 2

Some of my readers asked me for a part 2 of this, so I decided to do it. I hope you like it.

Prompt: In your first day at Dauntless you got a little drunk at a party and ended up in a certain leader’s bed…


Four took your class to the training room, and all the way there, all you could think about was how could you be so reckless and stupid? The guy was not only your trainer, but he was a Dauntless leader. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? Of course, he was hot as hell and awesome in bed, but still, no, was a big fat NO.

In the training room, Four placed all of you in front of punching bags, and ordered everyone to begin. You started to punch yours, ignoring the pounding in your head. Four paused by you briefly, adjusting your stance, then moving on to help the other initiates. You kept punching your bag but you couldn’t stop thinking about how much trouble you were about to be in. Lost in your own thoughts, you jumped when you felt cold hands on your hips.

Eric was pretending to fix your stance, but you knew it was right because Four had helped you less than 5 minutes ago. He tightened his grip on you, and whispered in your ear, low enough for only you to hear.

“Why didn’t you mention you were an initiate?“

“Why didn’t you mention you were a leader?” You asked back.

“I don’t need to explain myself, you do. You don’t look like an initiate.” He snapped measuring you up and down, mostly focusing on your well developed breasts and voluptuous butt.

“What can I say, I grew up quick,” You answered, but this time, blushing, with a bit of fear.

Eric cocked his head, noticing the girl next to you paying attention to your conversation. He then looked at you and barked his words.

“Initiate five laps, now.”

“What?” You asked confused, as ever.

“FIVE LAPS. RUN. NOW,” he yelled at you.

You nodded, and just as you were about to start running, he grabbed your arm hard.

“This conversation is not over. Now go,” he hissed.

As you ran, you started thinking how confusing this all was. After last night, you felt like maybe you didn’t belong in Dauntless. As much as you were attracted to Eric, it was clear he wasn’t going to make this easy on you after what happened on your first night here. He was thinking you kept things from him, especially about being an initiate, and the truth was you don’t even know how you ended up in his bed. You knew you messed up, and his hard looks towards you were showing you that he was pissed at you. At least that’s what you thought.

By the time you finished your laps, Eric was gone. The rest of the day flew by, with Four leading you from activity to activity. After being dismissed from training, you went to have dinner with Felicity and Michael. The three of you were laughing and having a good time, making you forget about the day. Once you were done with dinner, you went straight to the dorms and laid down on your cot, hoping to sleep. It was not even closer to Eric’s bed and you missed his arms around you while you tried to sleep.

In the morning, you were woken up by the loud banging of metal on metal.

You opened your eyes to find Four standing there, banging a pipe against the stair rail. You forced yourself up and out of bed, your head still foggy from the lack of sleep.

During the first part of your training, Eric was nowhere to be seen. But he showed up later to arrange the first fights. He called out your name, then the name of the girl who had been beside you on the bags yesterday. You had noticed her giggling at Eric, smiling and swaying her hips when she thought he was looking. She hadn’t realized he never seemed to notice her.

Of course, he paired you to fight against her.

When you were approaching the ring, he reached out for you, grabbing your arm.

“Win this one.” It was all he said before letting you go.

You stepped into the ring, preparing to fight, and she threw the first punch. You dodged it easily, and punched her in the stomach before she could try again. She looked at you angrily, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

“Just because you’re sleeping with our instructor doesn’t mean I have to go easy on you,” she said, quiet enough so only you to hear.

She tried to punch you again, but all she got was a scrape against your cheek. You were fuming now. Who was she to tell you that? Did she see you with Eric the other night? You were confused by her words, but you didn’t let them bother you. You managed to trip her, and she hit the mat with a loud thud. You took the opportunity and straddled her, then punched her hard, twice in the face and she was done.

Four congratulated you and you went to the bench to wait for your friends. You thought you saw Eric making an amused face toward you, but maybe you were wrong. He didn’t seem like the type to show emotions.

Judging from his silence, it was clear you were getting nothing from him, not even an ounce of praise. Right now, he wouldn’t talk to you, nor would he even look at you. But you caught him glancing your way a few times, always turning away quickly.

After dinner, your friends were staying at The Pit to hang out, but you decided to go back to the dorms. When you were almost there, you felt someone grabbing your arm and pulling you into a dark hallway.


“Did you tell anyone about what happened on your first night here?” he asked you.

“No, but I think Chelsea knows. She made a comment about it before our fight today,” you answered.

“She doesn’t. She’s guessing.” He paused for a second, holding your stare. “No one can know about what happened, ok? It’s against Dauntless rules. You can become factionless if anyone finds out.”

“Can you get in trouble because of this?” You asked him.

“I can lose my job, but Max won’t do it. He needs me. I’m more concerned about you.” he answered tightly.

Your heart sunk. You didn’t want to be kicked out, and you certainly didn’t want to be factionless, all because of one mistake.

“I’m so sorry Eric, I didn’t know, I…”

He didn’t let you finish.

“It’s not your fault, just don’t tell anyone,” He warned you. He squeezed your arm one final time, then stalked away.

After that day, he did a very good job ignoring you. You were focused on your training and were improving quickly, thanks to Four’s help. You were strong and fast and completely focused on succeeding on your training.

Your shooting skills weren’t the best, though. You and your class were up on the roof, practicing shooting at yellow targets on the wall, and you didn’t hit the target once. You were feeling frustrated while Four and Eric observed from a distance. You were still struggling when you heard the heavy footsteps of someone approaching.

“You suck at this, initiate,” Eric said.

You wanted to talk back to him, but a flashback of his raspy tongue on your belly came to your mind, and a shiver ran down your spine making you shake a little.

“I could use some help,” you managed to say.

He came closer to you, purposely making your back collide to his chest. You felt every single hair on your body rise up and you were sure he felt the tension coming from you.

“Just relax your arms and aim. I’ll tell you when to shoot.” He calmly said in your ear, making you lose any concentration you had. It was obvious he knew what he was doing to you.

He took hold of your hands on the gun, making sure you stayed still before he told you to shoot. You did as he said, and to your surprise, you hit the center of the target. You were about to thank him when he whispered in your ear.

“When initiation is over I can help you release all this tension in your body.”

And he then left.

You couldn’t focus anymore, and for the rest of the day, all you could think about was Eric. The feeling of his hands on you and his breath on your neck replayed over and over again. You were losing your mind and you couldn’t if you wanted to pass initiation. You tried to force the thoughts away, and after the day was over, you ran straight to the dorms and took a cold shower.

You were trying your best to avoid Eric, including every single thought about him, but it wasn’t easy. The guy was a wall of muscles, big enough to be noticed even from a distance, and he was gorgeous enough that you just couldn’t stop thinking about him. But you decided to give it a try.


Let me know what you think !

Thanks a lot to my love @clublulu333 for the edit !!! Love you babe !

@branflakes82 happy birthday, sis !

@ag-delights I hope this one makes you fell better ! Love you sweetie !

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If you want to be tagged or not tagged on this, please just let me know !!!

Originally posted by complete-fandom-trashhh

A New Evil

External image

Evil cults seem one dimensional and occasionally short-sighted. Burn down the town, appease the Blood God, and move on. I often imagine how a well managed cult with long-term organizational goals would do. The kind of organization that is willing to put in a school so it’s serfs are more productive, or a hospital to increase the surplus population…

Modern evil organizations often win temporary support of the populace by fulfilling basic services and providing security. What if joining the cult was in the material self interest of most people? How would your players wrest the town from the cult when the cult keeps the town safe from the darkness?

Written with Onceuponapost

The stretch of packed dirt road that lead out of town had never seemed so foreign. Surrounded by strange beasts and the hordes of undead, or what the townsfolk presumed to be undead, the road looked more a circus than the road that cut out to the miller’s place. For all that, the mayor and the town council held their heads high as they marched toward their uncertain fate. They had come together to arrange the surrender of their town with the head of this unholy congregation; Calamine, the lead negotiator for the Blood God’s Cult.

Few on the council were comfortable with the arrangements, and some were less amenable to their erstwhile hosts that others. The low grumbling of the group was punctuated with points of particular ire from the louder members, even as the Mayor desperately attempted to keep them all alive.

“Traitor,” mumbled the gnome, recognizing the human Calamine for what he was.

“Remove your foul beasts at once,” shouted a thin one, ducking low when eyes turned his way.

“We will never give into your accursed demands,” Calamine found this one particularly entertaining, as it was clear the geriatric mound had not walked here of his own accord, let alone might be able to muster arms. That didn’t keep him from gaining support.

“Yes. He’s right whatever it is you want, you won’t get it!” someone blabbered in a high pitched wail.

Somewhere in this, when their bravado had run cold, the council came to the clear realization that they had little actual power here. Calamine held silent until the realization washed over them fully before he finally spoke.

“The actual question here is what do you want?”

The group in front of him, which had seemed to sway and bob with every breath, paused collectively. This was different.

The cultist representative continued, brusquely, but not unkindly “I want you think about what you really want. What do you strive to do for your people? What is the legacy you want to leave to them?”

Where stunned stillness had been, true silence rushed in, as the motley crew took in Calamine’s questions. The blank quizzical stare from the mayor was encouraging. Their moment of dumbfounded confusion gave Calamine time to dive into the pitch that he’d perfected from town to town over the past decade.

“Let me explain,’ he began, oozing a cool camaraderie that drew the mayor in close, “You all toil in this agrarian economy, and for what? So that raiders, orcs, or whomever can come and take it? When was the last time the Empire actually sent an army out here to help you out?” He calculated his incredulity to perfection, catching the mayor just out of step.

The mayor stumbled for an answer even as people made the count across their fingers and toes, “Ten? Ten. Ten years ago”

“Like I thought,” Calamine continued, “and when was the last time a tax collector came through?”

The geriatric mound glowered, his deep voice booming. “Every year. They come every year at harvest”

Calamine shook his head ruefully,  “And what does that mean? That your money is more important to them than you. I work for a Blood God and even they don’t treat me like that!”

The pause permeated the room, just as Calamine intended. People were starting to think. This was going far too well.

Finally, Calamine broke the tense silence, “I am going to bet that all you really want is a little security in an insecure world,” his tone told them he agreed, “A point of light in the darkness. You want to keep the crops you grow, and not worry about what monster, petty noble, or out of work adventurers are going to come over that hill,” he’d built to the top of the crescendo, now to bring them into the fold.

“And our consortium can offer that to you.”

That damned gnome piped up in back, his thin voice carrying impossibly far across the crowded tent, “You only want power over people’s lives for your dark rituals”

Damn it. There was always someone that asked the question that no one wanted the answer to. Calamine’s predecessors had not made his job easy with their careless destruction of the countryside.

“Those are the cults of old,” he assured them, but when he saw looks of incredulity, he knew he’d need add a touch of honesty, “Sure. Fine. 40 years ago I’ll admit we were running around slicing people up trying to summon demons out of their skulls. And frankly, I am not going to lie to you, there is still some of that. We are a blood cult.” How in the hell did these people think they had gotten this far anyway? He continued blithely, “That is, as it were, what we do. However, we have evolved. We took a long look at ourselves, and decided that our,” Calamine took a deep breath, “impetuous actions weren’t lining up with our long term strategic goals. We don’t want complete control, we want your support.”

The gnome’s wheezing was faintly audible in the silence.  

Calamine continued, “I suppose we could slaughter your town now, and, sure, that would appease our Dark Gods, but for the long haul, that is poor planning. We have armies, administrators, and people. That means we need supplies, roads, and housing, and we need a population that can support that. Long term. He emphasized his point, clapping the mayor on the back.

“And if you’re going to support us we are going to support you.” With his hand still on the mayor’s shoulder, he turned to look at the crowd, “We offer jobs for your workers, hospitals for your sick, and schools for your children. We want you to grow. When you do well, we do well.

I mean, I don’t want to sound insulting but, do you have any idea what the infant mortality rate or literacy level are around here?”

The mayor slowly formed the words with his mouth, chewing each syllable. “Infant… literacy… level?”

Calamine looked around, making eye contact with the square woman that had sidled forward during his first pitch “Do you even have a school in this place?” His voice dripped with concerned sincerity.

The mayor shook his head. Several members of the town council were now closely examining the state of their shoes.

Calamine sighed, feigning resignation, and pulled out a sheaf of paper, “Here is our standard contract. Take it home, take it to your advocate, and read it over tonight. Let me know your concerns and I’ll see what I can do. How about we meet for a late noon-meal tomorrow, say first tone?”

The mayor took the contract. Clutching it to his breast, he and the town council shuffled out.

“Fuck that guy,” the gnome muttered as the tent flap swung closed..

The bell tolled three times. Calamine looked up from the papers, weary after hours of negotiations. “You have a problem with paragraph 37?”

The mayor nodded his affirmation, “We feel that the ‘shovel ready’ projects should be constructed with local labor first. Then, and only then, can you open it up to other cult members. Everyone who who is local who wants a job, should be able to get one.”

This was ridiculous. “It has to be contingent on ability,” Calamine explained patiently as if to a child. “How about this though,” he placated, seeing restlessness growing from the council behind the mayor, “We create a training program for locals, and those that pass get first preference. Say a 10 point rating bump when determining qualification?” Not generally a standard offer, but worth it for the size of the town.

The mayor glanced at the rest of the council. Heads bobbed in assent..

“Agreed” he said.

“This is all bullshit,” squeaked the gnome, looking around for anyone in the crowd that might follow his lead. “You’re selling out our people!”

Calamine glared at that shit of a gnome- they were always incorruptible. Something about growing up in a mystic land of fey orgies and gumdrops that made them immune to suffering in the human world. They were idealists to the very core.

Calamine noticed that the mayor was scowling too. Humans, he knew, they were practical, and could be depended upon to act in their own best interest. Mostly.

The mayor started again, ignoring the pest, “Last point. The sacrifices and levies. We think one percent per annum is adequate for your so-called ‘blood god’. Not the five indicated.”

Deep inhale, and pinch between his eyes. “I’ll tell you what,” Calamine said, “I’m tired. So let’s wrap this up. Three percent, and that’s the lowest I can go. You provide the equipment.” That wasn’t true, of course. Calamine was authorized to drop to one percent, but they didn’t need to know that. He saw one of the fat one’s head give a slight bob, so he continued “And,” the nodding stopped.

“I want the gnome. Tied up in a bag.”

A tense pause. The mayor looked back to the council. Nods.

“Deal,” he reached for the pen.

“WHAT?” Came a small shriek from the back. Then a thump, and the sound a small staunch idealist hitting the floor.

“Wait just a second,” Calamine said, pulling out a dagger. “Its got to be in blood.” He shrugged “Some things never change.”

Even Their Names Sound Good Together : Ashton AU

A one shot with Ashton where “You” are whatever gender you want to read yourself as, and your sexuality has no label. Hope you enjoy x

Description: You and Ashton have been friends for years, but now that graduation is right around the corner you might reconsider your feelings. Oh, and there’s a bit of a twist at the end.

Word Count: 4238

The dismissal bell is still ringing as you’re the first person to exit the room. Your teacher yells some nonsense about how class isn’t over until he says it is, which you ignore since surely they would have come up with a different name for the bell if it had no control over the time of your departure. Besides, you know you won’t get in trouble anyway. Another week is all you have to stand of this hell hole until graduation, and then you’re free from stupid rules like waiting for incompetent teachers to act like they’re in charge and asking permission to go to the bathroom only to be told ‘no’ because “too many students have already gone today.”

You roll your eyes at that last one, but your mood instantly lifts upon seeing your friend Ashton waiting for you in the hallway. Crooked smiles are exchanged before he falls into step with you on the way to your locker.

“How was class?” he asks in a very parent-like form, absentmindedly tightening the one strap of his backpack that’s slung over his shoulder.

“A drag,” you answer. “How was yours?”

Ashton shrugs, but the smirk on his face suggests he has something more to say. “Couldn’t really focus on the lesson. Mrs. McKenna wore that short skirt again.”

You ram your elbow into his. “You’re gross!”

“What!” he plays back. “She’s an attractive older woman.”

“She’s married,” you emphasize with a laugh.

“It’s not like I’m hitting on her,” he defends, his famous giggle making an appearance. “I just appreciate how she looks.”

“That’s creepy sounding.”

The two of you come up to your locker and you begin to tamper with the lock, twisting in the code that you’ve had memorized for the past four years. The thin metal door creaks open, revealing the trashcan you store your books in. One of the many Pop-Tarts wrappers that have been left behind after a quick breakfast on-the-go falls over the edge of the shelf and flutters to the ground near Ashton’s feet. He picks it up for you and tosses it in the actual garbage bin that’s stationed only about two feet away.

“Yeah, I’m the gross one,” he teases.

You follow Ashton’s lead by taking a handful of the rest of the wrappers and discarding them as well.

“I’ll take being a slob over being a perv,” you mock.

“A perv?” A new voice joins the conversation. “Who’s being a perv?”

You look up just in time to see Ashton throw his arm around Aimee, his girlfriend of four months. Her brown eyes close comfortably as Ashton presses his lips to her temple, but when they open again they’re staring directly at you. You play nice and offer a polite smile, even though you and Aimee have never really gotten along. She hasn’t admitted it, but you’re pretty sure the girl hates you just for being close friends with Ashton.

“Your boyfriend is,” you say, completely throwing Ashton under the bus.

“I’m not a perv,” he exasperates. Aimee just purses her full lips and apparently decides not to press the issue, which leads Ashton to a change of subject. “Anyway, tonight? You guys ready?”

You pause at unloading books from your backpack. “What’s tonight?”

Aimee’s swift glare toward Ashton doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but the recipient remains oblivious.

“Madison’s party,” he says more like a question, confused as to why you didn’t know about it. He looks down at Aimee for answers since she and the host are best friends.

“Yeah, Madison was supposed to invite you.” Aimee feigns ignorance. You know the bitch was trying to exclude you.

She clings to Ashton’s waist as if she knows that you won’t call her out on her lie as long as he’s around, which is true. You don’t want to make things more awkward than they already are, and frankly she’s not worth the drama.


“You’ll come, won’t you?” Aimee presses her cheek to Ashton’s chest when she forces herself to ask, a hint of intentional provocation dwelling in her eyes.

“You better,” Ashton pipes in.

You want to decline– to save yourself from a night of feeling unwelcomed, but at the same time having the ability to put a damper on Aimee’s night is a power of yours that’s too good not to use.

“Sure,” you reluctantly agree. “I’ll go.”

“Cool.” Ashton genuinely smiles and reaches out the arm that isn’t around his girlfriend’s waist to pull you into a side hug. Your head crashes into his chest and now your face is an uncomfortable few inches away from Aimee’s. She doesn’t look any happier about the position than you do.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says when you hastily pull away, then he peers down at Aimee to address her next, “And I’ll pick you up at eight.”

You know what’s coming next, but Ashton’s mouth finds hers faster than you can look away. With the turn of your heels you’re heading in the other direction, unsuccessfully suppressing the urge to gag.    


You let yourself into the house, knowing that nobody would hear you knock over the loud music anyway. You’re immediately greeted by pop-rock and a random drunk stranger, who is for some reason extremely happy to see you. He thankfully moves onto another group of people after initiating you into the party by spilling a bit of his drink all over your well-worn combat boots.

The next person you see isn’t exactly who you were looking for, but you certainly don’t mind their presence. She’s a past fling of yours – someone you didn’t want to get serious with at the time but would probably always welcome back into your bed.

She notices you from across the room, her back pressed against someone else’s front, and her glass is raised along with the corners of her lips. You make a mental note to talk to her later when her hips aren’t occupied by another person’s hands.


To your right appears a staggering Ashton, clearly already a few beers deep into his long night of binge drinking. His strong arms wrap you into the tightest bear hug, literally squeezing the breath out of your body.

“Hello to you, too,” you wheeze when he puts you down. You touch his shoulder as you remember how to breathe.

“I’m glad you came,” he says with his mouth right next to your ear. The skunky aroma of the alcohol he’s consumed is so strong off of his lips that you think you might catch a buzz just from smelling it. His fingers that never left your waist finally move to take your hand in his. “Come on! Let’s get you a drink.”

He drags you into the kitchen that’s surprisingly empty considering this is where the supply of alcohol is being kept. On your way there you find yourself staring at the contrast between your smaller hand enveloped by Ashton’s man-paw.

A mixed drink is quickly made for you, and as you take your first sip you feel the heat from Ashton’s undivided attention warming up your cheeks. You look up from your cup and smile because he has the most smug grin etched on his face while watching you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you tease, going for a second sip. The vodka to soda ratio tastes like it leans more toward vodka, but you’re not one to complain.

“We’re graduating in a few days,” Ashton says in disbelief, one huff of a laugh escaping his throat. “I’m just proud of us, you know?”

You nod although you haven’t really thought of it like that. Going to high school didn’t feel like an accomplishment to you. It wasn’t something you strived to be the best at; it was just something everyone was assigned to do at some point in their life.

“Do you remember when we first became friends?” Ashton pops the bottle off of another beer for himself.

“You mean in detention?” you laugh, remembering that day of freshman year perfectly.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I was there for having too many tardies and you were there because you cussed out Mr. Turner after he caught you smoking in the bathroom.”

Some of your drink wants to spurt out of your mouth as you recall the memory. “Oh my God. I don’t know how I only got one detention for that. I probably should have at least been suspended.”

“I know, you told me and I was like ‘Holy shit, this kid’s a delinquent.‘”

“Hey!” You nudge his shoulder. “Did you really think that?”

“Yes,” Ashton nudges you back, “And look at me now, completely corrupted by you.”

“Woah woah woah, I did not corrupt you!” You laugh and stand right in front of Ashton to drive a fingertip into his chest.

“Yes you did,” he smirks and catches your hand before you pull it away, lightly squeezing your knuckles together.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not!” Without realizing how close your foot was to Ashton’s, you try to step forward and end up tripping over his shoe. You stumble into his body, and out of natural reaction he curls one arm around your side, letting his palm rest over the belt loop on the back of your jeans.

His chest vibrates with more laughter. Your head remains stationary as your eyes follow his toned torso up to his neck, his jaw, his lips, and they don’t stop until they’re finally locked with his hazel irises.

“You’re not even drunk yet,” Ashton jokes at your expense.

“Well maybe if your feet weren’t so big.”

“You know what they say about big feet.”

“Yeah, Ashton?” Aimee’s sarcastic voice snaps both of you out of your playful banter. Your head turns to face the one person you wish more than anything didn’t happen to walk in the room at this exact moment.

“Aimee,” Ashton tries. You’re amazed that he doesn’t promptly push you away, but you do so yourself for the sake of their relationship.

Aimee stands angrily with her arms crossed over her chest. The tension just seems to keep building the longer nobody says anything, so you pick up your Solo cup from the counter and hold it out to her.  


“No thanks,” she states bluntly, glaring back and forth at the two of you. “I feel kinda nauseous.”

Her expensive shoes click against the tile on her storm out of the kitchen. You lean back against the counter, feeling too awkward to know what to say to Ashton.

“I should probably…” he trails off; you already know what he needs to do.

“Good luck,” you murmur, chasing your words with another swig of vodka and soda.


The straw in your second drink of the night serves as a lousy distraction when you can see Ashton and Aimee arguing on the patio through the clear sliding glass door. Ashton and Aimee, you think, even their names sound good together. Your stomach hurts with guilt, because no matter how much you dislike Aimee you never meant to be the problem in her relationship with Ashton. What’s worse is you know that he won’t blame you for this. Even though you might have been too close, too touchy, too comfortable around Ashton, he’s probably out there trying to convince Aimee that she’s freaking out over nothing.

“You’re at a party,” someone says casually as they approach you from behind, “Don’t look so glum.”

You can’t hide the smile that breaks out under your nose, the familiar attitude putting a little life into your sour mood.

“Hello, Vanessa,” you purr.

The girl wedges herself between you and the wall, mimicking your position by resting her elbows on the table in front of her. She looks out in the same direction as you and waits until she sees what you’re so caught up in, then tisks her tongue.

“They at it again?” Vanessa questions.

“Again?” You glance at her. “Were they fighting before?”

“Yeah, before you got here,” she says slowly, her voice composed and smooth as whiskey – one of your favorite things about her. “I don’t think Aimee really wanted you to come.”

You almost laugh. “Yeah, she’s not too fond of me.”

“Can you blame her?” Vanessa shifts to fully face you. “She’s just a stop along the way to your and Ashton’s happily ever after, ain’t she?”

“What?” Your instincts deny it. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I?” Vanessa quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t look at her without blushing. “Y/n, we both know he’s the reason you don’t settle down with anyone else.”

“You’re crazy,” you lightheartedly repeat. “Ashton and I are friends.”

“Mmhm,” she hums skeptically. Vanessa inches closer and brushes a loose piece of hair away from your eye. You relax as you feel her narrow fingers trace soothingly down your neck and back until one of them hooks under the top of your jeans and snaps the fabric against your skin. She brings her lips right up to your ear and whispers, “We were just friends, too.”

“That was different,” you smirk, the image of her bare body beneath you flashing through your mind.

“Mmhm,” she sings again. “You can lie to yourself all you want, baby, but don’t you dare try lying to me.”

You take a deep breath, yet find yourself unable to let it out as long as Vanessa is this close to you. She chuckles sexily and gives your cheek a lingering kiss. Gliding one suggestive touch across your bum, she begins to wander away, and you can’t help but focus your eyes on the subtle sway of the hips that you used to have all access to.

“Vanessa,” you call before she’s far enough away for the music to drown you out. She pauses to look back at you, peeking over her brown shoulder. “I hope she’s smarter than I was,” you say, nodding your chin in the direction of the girl she was dancing with earlier. Vanessa takes a glimpse at her new person of interest and shoots you a wink.

“She is.”


2:35 am. Most of the house has been evacuated except for a few stragglers who are either spending the night or waiting to sober up enough to drive home safely. You fall under neither of those categories, but right as you were about to make an exit Ashton came out of nowhere and sat you down on the couch to talk to him.

“Where’s Aimee?” was your initial question. You felt as though you’ve been the cause of enough of their issues for one night.

“She left,” he informed you, a drunk hiccup punctuating his sentence. “Yeah, she left a while ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, bringing your feet up onto the couch to make yourself more comfortable. “What did she say?”

And here you are now, listening to Ashton ramble on and on about everything brought up during the argument that you aroused. What you’ve gathered so far is that Aimee really hates you, that she, uh… hates you, and oh yeah! Aimee hates you. She apparently even went as far as demanding that Ashton not hang out with you anymore, which he shut down without consideration. One thing you could always count on was Ashton’s devout loyalty.

“Did you guys break up, or…” your thumb absentmindedly rubs circles into the couch’s arm rest.

“I don’t know,” Ashton shrugs, “probably.”

He reclines his head to the back of the furniture and closes his eyes. The rise and fall of his chest slowly starts to come less often as he drifts off toward unconsciousness. All of that fighting with Aimee mixed with depressant alcohol must have taken a serious toll on him.

He looks younger in this state – more soft and dependent than his typical macho bravado. It lures you in to closing the distance between him and yourself. You scoot across the sofa, grabbing his arm once you’re there and draping it over your shoulder as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. Ashton hints that he’s not fully knocked out yet by playing with the ends of your hair.  

“You know, maybe it’s for the best,” he startles you by speaking.

You rub your palm over his clothed stomach. “How so?”

“I spent so much time trying to convince her that I don’t have feelings for you, but that’s not even true.”

Your eyebrows arch in shock but the rest of you freezes in place.


“I like you, Y/n,” he states. “I really fucking like you.”

The words take a minute to sink in; you lean back to get a better look at his face. His eyes are on you and they’re beginning to bloodshot.

“Since when?” you ask.

“A while,” he says softly.

You notice his gaze decline toward your lips, so you take the time to study his as well. You’ve never looked at them this close before – they actually kind of have a cute shape to them.

He smiles and brings a hand up to cup your jaw. “Can I try something?”

You don’t answer. The right words escape you. Your mind goes utterly blank, and he takes your silence as a ‘yes’.

With a subtle, anxious lick to his lips, he throws away all logic and kisses you. You’re no stranger to the act of affection, but with Ashton it feels like a foreign concept. Your eyes don’t close like they naturally would have if you were doing this with someone else, and your hands don’t intuitively reach for some part of his body to turn him on further.

And yet, it’s nice. His lips are firm but also tender, and the way he caresses your jaw makes you feel protected. You’re particularly aware that this is your friend Ashton, but an ache deep inside of you knows that it’s not. It’s him, but a side you’ve never seen before. A side you’ve been afraid to introduce yourself to.

Right as you get a grip on the situation and decide it’s time to let go and enjoy what’s happening, the kiss ends. He’s the one who pulls away, but he doesn’t stray very far. Your foreheads press together as you both process your feelings.

“Did you hate it?” he whispers lightly.

This time you know what you want to say, you just can’t believe you’re about to admit it.


That’s all the permission he needs to dive back in. This kiss has more energy than the first, more confidence radiating from Ashton now that he’s already taken the plunge, and the impact of it sends you falling backwards until you’re parallel to the cushions of the couch with Ashton’s figure hovering above you. His mouth parts from yours for the briefest second and you find yourself desperately reaching for him to make connection again. His tongue swipes against yours and even though he tastes mostly like beer there’s still another hint of something that you can only describe as Ashton. He buries his knee between your legs and spreads them, lowering his hips to yours, and you feel the desire that he’s kept hidden from you for all these years throb against your thigh, and that’s when you realize that this needs to stop before it passes the point of no return.

Kissing Ashton is one thing, but once sex is involved you know your relationship would change, and that’s not something you’re sure if you’re ready for or not.

“Ash,” you breathe, grabbing his face to soften the blow that’s about to come.

He looks at you, not with disappointment but pure adoration, through fallen strands of his unruly hair.

“I’m not saying I don’t like this,” you begin, trying to pick your words carefully so nobody gets hurt, “but I think we should step back and evaluate.”

“Evaluate,” Ashton echoes humorously.

You smile because he’s not showing any signs of being upset, which makes your job easier.  

“You’re drunk,” you point out, “and I’m… confused.”



Ashton tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to figure out what you mean. He looks so good doing it that you almost shut up and let him take you then and there.

“I need to think,” you blurt, pushing on his shoulders to break free of his overpowering position. He sits up and let’s you off of the couch. You tuck your feet into the boots you took off once people started leaving and check your pockets for your phone and keys. When all is accounted for you look back at Ashton who’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching you leave. You don’t have the heart to just walk out on him, so you tilt up his chin and bend to press one more peck to his parted lips.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” you promise.


The next morning you remember everything clearly. Your first thought upon opening your eyes to a room that’s much too bright for your liking is of Ashton: his confession, his lips, his hands, his breath, his stiff sensuality prodding your leg. You smirk as you recall, proud of yourself for being the one it was intended for.  

If you’re having these thoughts you must like him, right? There’s no reason you should be pleased about causing an erection if you want nothing more than a platonic relationship with it. You like that Ashton wants you. You like that he was able to come clean about his feelings for you. And you hate the thought of him feeling that way toward anyone else – Aimee, specifically. Vanessa was right. Maybe not about you and Ashton having a happily ever after because there’s no telling what could happen in the future, but there’s definitely something there. You and Ashton belong together, at least for a little bit.

You check the time and fly out of bed, not only because you’re in a rush to see Ashton but because according to your phone it’s already 2pm. More than half the day has already passed, and you can only imagine the things he must be thinking as he waits forever to hear from you. Your fingers dance across your phone screen as you type out a text message to let him know that you’re on your way over. Hopefully that eases his mind if he’s having any negative assumptions.

After catching every red light on the way to his house, you pull into his driveway since his parents aren’t home and take a moment behind the steering wheel to rehearse what you’re going to say. Your nerves are on edge all of a sudden, and you can’t remember another time when you ever felt this stressed to see Ashton.

You don’t bother knocking because your text receipts inform you that Ashton’s read your message, so he knows it’s you who’s here.

“Ash?” you call from the living room.

You hear a thud and to your left Ashton appears from his room, just sticking half of his body through the doorway.

“Y/n,” he says, looking you up and down. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Even you can hear the shyness in your voice, so you clear your throat to get rid of it. “Um… Can we talk?”

His shoulders noticeably slump and his chest deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, I think we should.”

You smile and take a seat on the sofa, leaving enough room for Ashton to sit next to you, which he does. He’s carrying a glass of water with him that he sets down on the coffee table by your leg.

“Y/n,” he begins, “Last night was everything I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

Heat swarms to your cheeks and your smile grows. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He gazes at you, his eyebrows peaked in worry.

“Good things,” you assure.


“Yeah.” You take a pause to prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I like you, Ashton.” You wait for a reaction but it doesn’t come, so you go on. “I think I have for a while, too, but you were with Aimee, you know…” He’s focused on something across the room but you can tell he’s listening intently. “Last night… it needed to happen. I’m glad it happened, because now I know – I know how I feel about you, and now that I know, I’ve honestly never felt so sure about something before in my life, and I’m ready to do this, Ashton, I’m… What? What’s wrong?” You lose your train of thought when you see Ashton solemnly shaking his head.

“Why do you look sad? Did you change your mind or some-”

“No, Y/n.” He runs his hands down his face.

“Then why are you-”

“Aimee’s pregnant,” he announces. He finally faces you and your heart drops.

Aimee’s pregnant.

Words you definitely weren’t expecting to hear today, or ever for that matter, especially not from Ashton. You want to respond but your stomach is doing all kinds of things and you’re afraid you might throw up.  

“You mean, w-with your…”

He nods. “She found out this morning.”

A crack shoots down the center of your heart.

“Y/n, I can’t leave her.”

And now it’s broken.


Sushi Bar (OT7)

Pairing: OT7 (or rather Namjoon X everyone)
Rating: T (but kinda M?)
Genre: Humor/Smut (but not really???)

Words: 3,733

Summary“Hyung, surprise!”

“You did say you wanted to go to a naked sushi bar,” Hoseok giggles.

“I DID say that,” Namjoon admits, “However…when I said that it was because I wanted to see some nice side-boob and curves–NOT leg hair and happy trails.”

Though, it seems that Namjoon will just have to settle for what he can get.

A/N: Ahhh, my first ever BTS fic….there are some tense issues, but…I’m not gonna change it. Comments/reblogs/favs always appreciated~

Namjoon’s not sure what they have planned for his 23rd birthday, but he’s sure that it won’t just be a simple cake. After all, a few days before Jungkook had turned 20, meaning that he was finally of legal drinking age, and the other guys had definitely taken advantage of that fact. Yoongi had been more than happy to supply them with ample amounts of vodka and whiskey, and while they’d all known it was a bad idea they’d thrown their worries out the window and partied. Of course, they regretted it the next morning when their heads pounded so loud that it practically made their dorm shake, but luckily they had no schedule planned for that day. That was their only saving grace.

Now, a week and a half later, Namjoon was getting a little suspicious as he made his way back to the dorm. None of the guys had texted or called him all day, and with having an individual schedule for once he hadn’t seen them since last night after practice.

Clearly they were planning something, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Namjoon finally reaches the apartment building their dorm is in and slowly makes his way up the stairs. When he nears their door he can hear feet scrambling inside and is almost sure that he hears Taehyung and Jungkook giggling uncontrollably as their footsteps disappear farther into the dorm.

Frowning, he shakes his head, steels himself for whatever he may find, and pushes the door open.

When he enters their home it’s eerily silent—well, it was silent until Taehyung’s muffled giggles reach his ears again.

“Brat, shut up!” he then hears Yoongi hiss, causing him to hold back a laugh of his own. Despite their efforts they were all so bad at this ‘surprise’ thing.

He then decides to tell them that directly.

“You guys are really terrible at th—,” he starts, laughing heartily as he finally enters the main room, but his words catch in his throat—because finally he’s sees what they’ve been planning for him.

“Hyung, surprise!” Taehyung and Jungkook chorus happily, motioning towards his ‘surprise’ with wildly flailing jazz hands. Namjoon wonders is if his jaw has hit the floor or not.

“You did say you wanted to go to a naked sushi bar,” Hoseok giggles from where he’s perched on the coffee table, trying his best not to move so that the California rolls delicately placed on his bare body stay where they are.

“I did say that,” Namjoon admits after he gets over the initial shock of seeing 4 of his teammates naked and splayed across the room, different variations of food lining their body. He briefly wonders why Jungkook and Taehyung aren’t laid before him as well, but soon realizes that Jungkook likely had too much pride or was too embarrassed, and that Taehyung was far too jittery stay still for such a long span of time.

However…when I said that it was because I wanted to see some nice side-boob and curves—not leg hair and happy-trails.”

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When’s the Wedding?

I didn’t proofread this one so it probably sucks lol
I’ve been so lazy this break hahaha
I’ve also been having way too many dance parties to “Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time” but you know

Title: When’s the Wedding?
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Summary: “Reader introduces steve to her parents as a friend but they assume they are getting married. She is embarrassed and apologizes but is confused when steve says “maybe someday but not now.” confession thing.”
Word Count: 1,281
Warnings: it’s awkwarddddd. Food and family are also mentioned

Your name: submit What is this?

           "What are your parents like?“ Steve asks.

           His voice cuts through the previously silent air of the car and nearly makes you jump. You give him a quick glance before refocusing on the road. You’re scrambling through your mind to find the right words to describe your parents, if that’s even possible. 

           "They’re alright,” you reply nonchalantly. “My mom’s a doctor and my dad’s a college professor.”

           Steve lets out a slight laugh and shakes his head. You give him a questioning look before turning into your neighborhood. It feels nerve-wracking already, and you find yourself gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. Luckily, though, Steve doesn’t notice.

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Vauseman Fic...

To start with I’m not sure what happened here. And to finish with I have no idea what this even is I was just bored :P

“Alex you have to come with me” Piper groaned.

“Pipes it’s just a bad idea, all the puppy dog faces in the world you make isn’t going to change that” Alex said glancing up from her laptop screen at her blonde girlfriend, who stood behind the kitchen counter with wide eyes and a cute pout.

“But Larry’s gonna be there, you have to come” she added as she poured herself a cup of tea.

Alex sighed “What if I don’t want to go?”

“I wasn’t asking” Piper said and the two of them looked up at each other, Alex lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

Piper saw at the unimpressed look on Alex’s face and immediately felt bad, of course Alex wouldn’t want to go to Polly’s dinner party, even Piper didn’t want to go to it but she had been declining all of Polly’s offers for so long she felt she couldn’t try and ignore her forever, even after Larry had decided to move on with her best friend. She thought by saying yes just this once it would show that no, she wasn’t completely outraged anymore and more importantly she could then continue saying no to all her other dinner date, lunch date and yoga class offers.  Piper was happy anyway, she had Alex and what more did she need?

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