| Of Lemongrass & French Vanilla | Chen X Reader AU | Oneshot |


Kim Jongdae X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Action, Thriller, Mystery

Warnings: Violence, Language, Attempted Murder, Mysterious/Protective/Sexy Kim Jongdae

Word Count: 7,938

Synopsis: “His brothers had told him that finding your mate was like finding a scent that sends you into a state of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Personally, he had hoped that for him, that scent was of lemongrass and french vanilla.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAUNA (@exosmutxoxo) I hope this story finds you well, and that you are surviving college! Sending you all my love and hope that your birthday was everything you hoped it would be~ It’s a slow burn, but I promise the story comes together in the end ;)

Damn it,” You hissed.

The clerk lady on the other side of the desk pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m very sorry ma’am, but there was, in fact, a mix up with your luggage. We’ll do everything we can to locate which flight it’s with and return it to you as soon as we’re able.”

You tapped your foot on the ground in frustration. After sending the airport employee one last pleading glance, you hesitantly scooted out of line, allowing the mass of people behind you to try and resolve their own dilemmas.

Well, You stuck your hands into your pockets angrily, biting your lip with fervor. There’s nothing to be done about it now. At least I’ve still got my carry-on.

It was raining outside of the airport. Of course it was raining. After staying huddled underneath the awning for twenty minutes, you were finally able to hail a cab. You quickly flung yourself into the backseat, your damp hair clinging to your face.

“Where to, miss?” The driver asked.

“Oh, right,” You were a discombobulated mess, still disgruntled from getting the news that your luggage had been lost. You rummaged through your small carry-on backpack, pulling out a heap of crumpled, wet papers. After finding the one you’d been looking for, you squinted to make out the smeared ink. “Let’s see… 223 Cedarwood Plaza.”

The driver nodded to himself, redirecting his attention to the road and pulling out of the valet lot.

“Heading to Cedarwood University then, I presume?”

“Yes sir,” You struggled to get out of your wet jacket, cramped in the backseat. “Just got back from vacation. This’ll be my second year here.”

Wah,” The cab driver let out a huff in surprise. “That there is one of the most expensive private institutions in the country. Way up in the mountains, too.”

“It is. I like it though.” You hummed. “This year I was able to find a roommate online and share her apartment rent, so I won’t have to live on-campus.”

“Sounds like a good deal,” The driver took the exit off the main road, taking the one the lead upwards into the mountains, and away from the big city. “‘Hope it goes well for ya.”

“Thank you.” You nodded briskly in gratitude.

The ten minutes that remained on the trip up the mountain were spent in silence. It seemed as though everywhere you looked, there were seas of pine trees as far as the eye could see. You pulled your phone from your jacket pocket, wiping the excess water off the touchscreen. You unlocked it, immediately tapping the screen to check your messages.

Yoori (Future Roommate)

0 New Messages

18 Unread Messages

You bit the inside of your cheek.

She hasn’t responded to any of my texts since yesterday…

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shiraw  asked:

43. “Are you drunk?” Paperhat :3. I love your writing too. You're just amazing!!

“Are you drunk?”

Dementia stepped into Dr. Flug’s private quarters cautiously. She eyed the empty bottles of cheap beer scattered across the floor, and then her friend, who sat slumped over at his desk. Slowly, she picked her way over to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder

“Flug are you-” Suddenly, Flug snapped to attention, nearly falling backwards out of his chair, and staring at Dementia through fogged up goggles. He stammered out,

“Wha? What are you… oh…”  He reached up under his crinkled bag and rubbed at his eyes. “HEy, DementiA!”

“Ah jeez, Flug, how much did you drink?” Dementia asked. The doctor held his hand in front of his face and tried to count on his fingers.

“Uhh… one, two…. Three??? Four. Maybe 5?” he muttered. Then Flug lurched in his chair and stood up to face Dementia. “ ‘M not sure!”

Taking another look, Dementia noticed their were were only 3 beers that were actually empty on the floor; she sighed internally in relief.

“All right, how ‘bout you sit down and we can have a lil’ chat,” she said. Then she guided her friend back into his seat, and hoisted herself onto his desk. “Why’d you feel like drinking?”  

Flug slammed him face down onto the desk with a loud THUNK, and groaned. His next ‘words’ sounded as if someone had managed to say a keyboard smash out loud, which caused Dementia even more concern.

“FLuuuuuuuggggg, what’s happening in that super smart noggin?” The doctor shifted so he could look the girl in the eye.

“Toooooo, many feeeeeelings, Dem,” Flug slurred.

“What KINDA feelings?”

“Heart stuff, like, bang bang in my chest and uhhhhhhhh, ya know?” Dementia was trying so hard not to laugh, but the way Flug was looking at her like he’d just revealed some big secret made her double over with laughter.

“You have a crush on someone!! Oh my gosh are you serious!? That’s why you’re drinking!!??” Even with his bag on, Dementia could tell that Flug was blushing, as the skin disappearing under the bag’s fringe was turning pink.

“I-its not f-funny DEM!” Flug shouted and folded his arms tightly across his chest like a pouty child. “I *hic* don’t want to feeeeeel things about him.”

“HIM!!!??? HIM!!!!!” Dementia jumped off the desk and began to bounce in front of Flug on tip-toe. Flug made that keyboard smash sound again, then promptly fell out of his chair and began to roll across the floor in no particular direction, just to get away from Dementia. She followed close behind. “Unless you’ve been getting out of the house Flug, which I KNOW you haven’t, there is ONE him in this house and-”

“StttoooooOOOOPP,” Flug groaned and slapped his hand up at Dementia’s face, then curled into tighter ball on the floor.

“I can’t believe this!”

“I’m gonna kill yah… and then ‘M gonna drown myself with drink.”

“No you’re not, silly! You and I are gonna swap stories about Blackhat now, and both reminisce over our mutual love for him! Although…” Dementia laid down and next to Flug and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Your ‘love’ is probably more genuine than mine, come to think of it. You’ve worked with him longer, know him better than any of us, and honestly sometimes I think I like him just cause he’s the only person around worth liking!” Flug glared at Dementia over his shoulder.

“I find that offensive, “ he huffed. Dementia made a gagging noise and then pushed him away from herself.

“That wasn’t meant to say you’re not worth liking, ya dolt. Just that you’re more like a brother to me or something,” she said. “Or like, you’re my best friend, and it would be weird to like you.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dem….” For a moment, Flug fell silent, as if he had snapped out of his slightly drunken stupor and become very much aware of what was happening all around him.

“What do you mean by all that though?” he asked quietly.

“Well, I guess I mean what you’d probably have a chance with Blackhat. I mean, I see the way that he looks at you after filming, when you’ve gotten hurt in some way? He seems worried, and he always tells 5.0.5 to check on you. A few times, I’ve even caught him checking in on you’re while you sleep, or carrying you to your room if you crash in the lab. He’s gentle in those moments, and I never see him like that anywhere else, or with anyone else.” Dementia crawled over Flug’s prone body to curl up facing him.

“You see, he acts really tough, but I’ve seen him with genuine fear in his eye over losing you. That one time you got kidnapped and held for ransom, he acted cool and collected when giving 5.0.5 and I instructions, but I saw him tearing apart everything in his room afterwards in rage. He… he almost killed me when he learned that I had failed to protect you…but you see, I know he cares for me too, ‘cause he didn’t. And later, when we got you back, he patted me on the back and said ‘you’re forgiven, but don’t let that happen again.” Dementia rolled onto her back, so he didn’t have to see the way that Flug was staring at her through his goggles.

“Now, you may say that Black hat just cares about you because you make him money, but… I don’t think that’s it, Flug. We’re his family in a way, and he won’t ever admit that, but we know it’s true. “ Dementia giggled. “I’m his annoying little sister, 5.0.5 the overly affectionate pet, and you? You mean the most to him, you’re… what he wishes was his love.”

The room fell silent.

As Flug’s gaze bored into the side of her head, Dementia grew increasingly uncomfortable, until she shot up to her feet and shouted,

“Well you know, I’m probably actually a lesbian for all I know!”

That got Flug laughing.

“Hey don’t laugh at me, mister! I have seen, like one girl, and she was hella hot okay! I saw her outside and was just like ‘wowie! Look at that artwork strolling down the street! Hey! It’s not FUNNY!” Flug was wheezing with laughter, sitting up and holding his sides trying to breathe.

“Holy Shit, DEm! I’m gonna die!” he gasped. Then that moment of awe striking clarity ended, and Flug became slurred with his drunkenness again.

Struggling to his feet, Flug began to stumble towards the door, but Dementia caught him, asking,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m gonna go get Blackhat to confess his love for me!” Flug slurred. Now any good friend would have sat their friend down and told them to sleep off the drink so they didn’t do something they’d regret in the morning. Dementia, was not a good friend.

“Holy shit, I gotta see this go down! Let me get my phone!”

The next morning

Phone recording—

“Hey, it Dementia, here to bring you the aftermath of Flug’s Drunken Shenanigans! Let’s see what’s behind door number 1!”




“Wha? What’s going on? Dementia?”

“Flug! Flug what happened!!! You’ll tell me the truth!!”

“What? Nothing happened Dementia, we just feel asleep.”


“You guys are boring! You just cuddled and-”


“Actually sir-”


“But sir I-”


“Then why did you hold on so tightly and start purring like a-”


—end recording

“Sooooo, that went better then expected,” Dementia hummed. Staring Flug down as they both stood outside Blackhat quarters, where he had just slammed the door in their faces, she grinned mischievously and winked. “So what did happen, in there, Flug?”

“I don’t kiss and tell, Dementia.” Flug stated firmly.

“So you DID kiss him!!” Flug began to stammer and blush.

“NO! I didn’t say that!!

“It was implied! I’m gonna go shout this from the rooftops!”

“No you’re not!”

“Am too!” Dementia took off running down the hall.

“Get back here!” And with that, Flug sprinted off after her.

Meanwhile, in his quarters, Black hat sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Damn his cute scientist, and damn that annoying Dementia, he thought. They were going to be the end of him.

I hope this is to your liking? I was laughing for a good portion for writing this, and so thank you for this wonderful request! Anyone and everyone feel free to send me more writing prompts!

pomrania  asked:

Do they get him a special anniversary gift the next day, to try and make up for it?

Sure. Next morning those two auror knock on Harry’s office door. 

“Hi, Mr. Potter, we’ve got some flowers for your wife. Roses. Beautiful roses. We are really sorry we spoiled your night, so we thought we should buy these flowers so you can give them to Mrs. Potter.”
“By the way, sir, happy late anniversary.” 
Harry looks at both of them.
“She hates flowers.”
“Then those are for you, sir!”
“Get out of my office.”

silencedmockingjay-deactivated  asked:

viktuuri, kimi no na wa au


1. the first thing victor does whenever he wakes up as yuuri is grab his ass. always. without fail.
“why are you so obsessed with your ass all of a sudden?” mari says. “also, wake up to your fucking alarms.”
victor ignores her, and continues appreciating the soft, full curvature of yuuri’s rear.

2. “vitya, what are you planning?” yakov asks, suspicious.
yuuri straightens up immediately, long silver hair whipping around his face. “nothing, sir.”
he gets kicked out of the rink to do off-ice conditioning, on grounds of insubordination. or something. yakov is scrambling for justifications here. yakov actually loses half his hair from being kept on his toes too often whenever they body-swap.

3. victor has to teach yuuri how to entertain his female fans, but did not bank on yuuri actually taking one out on a date.
“you said you were nice,” his note to yuuri reads. “you didn’t tell me you MADE HER FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU!!! YUUUUUUURI!!!”
victor grows increasingly tired of having to be the one who has to burst these girls’ bubbles and break these things off.

4. on the other hand…
“didn’t you like her? i thought you said she’s cute.”
“not THAT miyamoto-san! i meant her brother!!!”
“ohhh… i don’t think they’d mind if you took them both out, to be honest”

5. when they see each other in person for the first time, they are quick to leap into each other’s arms. victor’s hand travels down to squeeze yuuri’s butt reflexively.
“i knew it. i knew you did that,” yuuri huffs, pulling away. victor tugs him close again, hands-on-cheeks, and kisses him.
“take that miyamoto,” is what he doesn’t say when they break for breath.
“i’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” is what he does say. “i love you.”

A Bedtime Story

hello, loves! i’ve had this idea in my head for a little while now, and i’ve finally been able to put the words to the page! i’m really happy with how this turned out, so i hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think!

huge thank you to the lovely @takemeawaytocamelot for being the best motivator and cheerleader ever, as well as my other tss ladies who are always the most supportive bunch. 🤗


-the eldest bairn, kait xxx

“Did you really think that I would swallow this… fairytale? Do you think I’m still five years old?”

It’s not a fairytale, Bree.

The door shut behind her with a sharp bang! that echoed throughout the house, reverberating off of the walls and causing the vanity to shake. Unperturbed with the state of the mirror or the trinkets that surrounded it, she stomped over to the bed and unceremoniously plopped down on it, grasping the hairbrush and angrily running it through her hair.

All of her life, she thought that she was someone else–countless times she had helped her father, spending hours upon hours looking through their genealogy chart in an attempt to trace their ancestry throughout Europe. He had played along, telling her about his grandparents and great-grandparents, all the way to the eldest ancestor that they knew of: a Captain of Dragoons, stationed in Scotland with a pristine record and high regards from the Crown for his service. Frank had always talked so highly of him, but whenever his name was mentioned, her mother would leave the room.

She realized that her mother never truly told her much about her own heritage, just about Uncle Lamb and her parents, but besides that…

I suppose she wanted to keep that under wraps, too, she thought, brushing the other side of her head.

A moment passed before she fully paused, looking down at the curling waves of her auburn hair. Her father didn’t have red hair–granted, neither did her mother. She remembered asking him once where her red hair came from, and he had just replied, “One of your relatives.”

One of my relatives. My father…?

She set the brush down on the bed, running her fingers through the soft strands. As much as she didn’t know right now, one thing was certain: Frank Randall was not her biological father, this Jamie Fraser–whoever he might be–is. However, that was the only straw she could grasp from the bunch that her mother gave her; she had lost Brianna as soon as she said Culloden.

How could one believe such a tale? Her father apparently did–the other one.

Jamie Fraser.

So many emotions were coursing through her veins, but the one of highest supply was frustration and anger. She felt betrayed by her mother, of whom she felt had lied to her all of her life, making her believe that Frank Randall was her biological father. And after a moment, anger seemed to triumph over all other emotions, and she flung herself off of the bed, pulling a bag off of the floor and stuffing as much into it as humanly possible. She needed to get out of there. Now.

After realizing that not everything was going to fit if she kept shoving everything into the small opening of the rucksack, she instead started emptying the contents onto the floor. She shook the bag harshly, taking her anger out on the innocent fabric pack, before she heard something plop unceremoniously onto the floor. At first, she didn’t recognize it, but after a moment’s pause, her racing pulse leveled.

It was a small, leather-bound notebook, no more than 5 inches in width, 6 in height. The book was about 100 pages thick, covered in both her mother’s and her own scrawled hand across the pages, alternating between different colors of ink.

A fairy-tale told to her by her mother in her youth.

A five-year-old Brianna Randall sits upright in bed, excitedly gripping the edges of her quilt as she waits for her mother to return home. At this point, they had their schedule down to a science: Claire would walk in the door, go straight to the eagerly-awaiting Brianna, and she would recount to her daughter the adventures told the night before.

Tonight, however, was different. Daddy had come home from the University with a beautiful leather-bound, handheld notebook. “Fill it with whatever your heart desires, little beauty,” he had said, and she took it to heart. She would fill it up, cover to cover, with her favorite story of all time.

Her heart began to race in excitement as she heard her mother’s voice coming from downstairs, the beats getting more frantic as she heard the footsteps getting closer and closer. When the door finally opened and the bright blue scrubs came into view, she jumped up and down in her bed.

“Mama, guess what I got from Daddy today!” She squealed, thrusting the notebook at her mother in excitement.

“Oh, Bree, how lovely!” She examined the book delicately before handing it back to her daughter. “What will you write in it?”

Bree giggled, “Silly Mama, our story!”

Instead of replying right away, she swallowed hard, turning herself away from her daughter and towards the window. Confused, Brianna ignored this strange behavior and went to her desk, pulling out a pen and holding it out to her mother. “Write, Mama?”

She cleared her throat once before turning back around, a smile forming on her lips. “Of course, love. Now, where did we leave off?”

“No, we have to start over!”

Smiling, Claire took the pen from her daughter’s tiny hand and balanced the book on her knee, starting to write. While she wrote, she had Bree read the words out loud to her.

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a King and his fair Queen. The pair loved each other very much, and to prove that their love was eternal, the King took his wife away from the business of castle life to a remote village in the mountains. 

While there, they visited their subjects and attended to their duties, as Kings and Queens do, but one day, the Queen was separated from her King and fell through a portal to another world. Frightened and alone, the Queen ran for miles and miles to find her King, but couldn’t find her way back. Getting lost in the ever-thickening wood as she ran, she encountered the most fearsome dragon in all of the Worlds. Fortunately, however, she was rescued by a knight in shining silver armor and taken away to safety.

On the way to the castle, the Queen’s escort introduced himself as Sir James the Red, Knight of Lallybroch. The Queen introduced herself only as Christine, in fear that someone would recognize her.

For many months the Queen took refuge in the new castle, Leoch, becoming a guest of it’s King and making many friends among the subjects. One day, after a great Gathering was held, the Grand Duke requested she be present on a hunt, to which she agreed. While on the hunt, she became very close to Sir James, who promised to protect her from anything and everything she could encounter on the journey.

And as Sir James predicted, Christine came face-to-face with the monstrous dragon once more. With his fiery breath, he burned her repeatedly. But ever so true to his word, her Knight came to save her and, in order to protect her, offered his hand to her, which she accepted. The two of them became extremely close while continuing the hunt. She missed her King dearly, but was starting to accept her life with her red Knight in shining armor. 

Eventually, the Knight found out about her travels through time, and offered to take her back home. They traveled on horseback for days while the Queen figured out what her heart truly wanted. Her duty was to her King, but how could she leave her Knight, a man that she had grown to love more than life itself?

It all came down to a single choice. Sir James took her to the portal, where she had to make her final decision. Who did she want to be: Christine the Queen, or Christine, the Knight’s wife?

In the end, she chose Sir James. The pair went back to his home, to begin their happily ever after. That is, until the creature returned, this time to take him for retribution, and it was up to Lady Christine to be her Knight’s savior.

With the help of Sir James’ fellow knights, and a few cows, Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining–

“Mama,” Bree, now an inquisitive eight-year-old, interrupted, looking at her mother in confusion. “What did the cows do?”

Claire laughed, caught off-guard by her question. “Well, Sir Marcus decided that it would be the easiest way to get Sir James out of the dragon’s keep, without drawing too much attention.”

Bree’s eyebrows creased together and her lips pursed outward. “But… wouldn’t a large group of cows draw attention to them, anyway?”

“Do you want me to continue or not?”

She nodded eagerly, leaning away from the headboard. 

Lady Christine was able to save her knight in shining armor, and together they traveled away to a distant land full of delectable foods, beautiful dresses, large parties, and lots of intrigue. But Sir James’ experiences with the monster left him scarred, emotionally and physically. She tried her best to help him, but nothing she did soothed his suffering. Eventually, their marriage began to crumble, and she feared she would lose her husband.

One night, she talked to him about it. He told her all of his heart, as one should in a marriage, and the patches seemed to be healed. However, when the evil creature returned for his just desserts, Sir James vowed that he would be the one to slay it. Afraid for her husband’s life, as well as the dragon’s, she begged him to leave it be. His grudge, however, would haunt him forever as he attempted to slay the beast, eventually doing so with all three of them seriously injured. Lady Claire saved Sir James once more, and, after losing their faith, the pair moved back to their country to be with their family. Fate, however, would not be on their side.

A war was rapidly approaching, and as much as they tried to stop it from coming, Sir James and Lady Christine were faced with no other choice. Pregnant with his child, he sent them back to her own time, where they could be safe in the protection of the King. 

“She never goes back to him?” Thirteen-year-old Bree inquires of her mother with her elbows on her knees and her hands resting beneath her chin.

Claire pauses, swallowing an invisible lump in her throat. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Why not? If she truly loves him, wouldn’t she want to be with him forever?”

“Of course she would.” She smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Bree’s shoulders. Leaning her head on top of her daughter’s, she asked, “Do you remember the battle, the one that they were all preparing for at the end of the story?”

Bree nodded, urging her to continue.

“Well, before they parted, Sir James promised m–Christine–” She cleared her throat. “He told Lady Christine that he would die on the battlefield, defending his country. And she took his word for it.”

“So, she didn’t even try to find him? Not even for the chance that they could be together again?”

Tears formed in Claire’s eyes, but Bree couldn’t see them. Instead of replying, she finished the story.

Lady Christine returned to her time and resumed her position as Queen. She was reunited with her King, and he promised that they would raise Sir James’ child together, as their own.

A few months later, a princess was born, and they named her Ellen, after Sir James’ mother. And together, the three of them lived a happy life, the child unaware of her true parentage.

Every once in awhile, however, the Queen would see her daughter’s red hair catch the light, and she would see her husband. Her red Knight. 

Her one and only love.

The End


Paring: Negan x Reader 

Warnings: NSFW, Smut (like really. And I honestly hope it does not disappoint anyone.). 

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

Negan had a tough day, a group attacked one group of his men and killed more than thirty on their sleep. Of course Negan acts like they are just soldiers, but have some men that he actually liked as a thing closer to a friend. You were with him in that morning, when Simon brought the news. 

Your relationship with him was complicated, you two love each other, but you don’t want to be just other woman on his fuck-list. But after some time with him trying to win you over, and you working as a Savior but having the pleasure to spend time with him sexually and enjoying eachother company. You couldn’t hold back the urge you felt for the powerful man. 

When Simon entered the room, you two were planning strategies to make his workers and “helpers” still ‘on line’ and you were trying prove to him that doesn’t have any need to kill anyone, you know that eventually was necessary but not every goddamn damn time. 

The news hit Negan, he scratch his beard and asked whose in charge of the newest rival group, but Simon didn’t knew. Negan looked at you and you just let a small smile letting him know that it was okay for him go, and later when he come back, you would still there. And you were. 

He entered the room pissed with Lucille bloody on hands, he looked over you and since you know how pissed and sad he is, you don’t want to make him angrier speaking about how he could had managed things differently. So you just hold back the cold feeling on your spine thinking about the people he could had ‘Lucilled’ with. You simply got up, got Lucille and put aside the sofa, Negan was not a man that let his fears and sadness appear for someone, so since he let you see that part of him you just embrace him and let him fell on you whenever he needed, and today seems like just one of those days. When the toughest man you know, cry on your arms. 

You take his hand and led him to the sofa, he sat there and you get to prepare his whiskey and grab a cigar he loves. You give to him and he started taking off his jacket putting on the other side of the sofa. You sit on his side and start massaging his thigh not in a sexual way just a “I’m here for you” way. 

He drank a sip of the liquid and take a smoke of the old world fancy cigar. You just sat there letting him think, you knew that when he was ready he would talk, or at least relief some stress. “33 fucking men. The fuckers killed thirty fucking men Y/N. And you know what is worst? I don’t even know them, but trust me, when I do I will beat the shit out of every single one of them.” His greedy voice made your heart speed up just of the thought of so many slaughter, the one that already happened, and the one that is coming. 

“You think they did that to help so other group? One that work for you?” The question sounded calm, and it was a good thing since that was your intention.

“Honestly Y/N I talked about that shit the whole fucking day, and now I just want to relax. I know we discuss about all the shit, but well if you didn’t wanted to make a peaceful pass for the fuckers I bet all my Saviors would be here now.” He let out angrily, making you sad already, tears in your eyes just as the thought of the death of thirty man, of course the Saviors was in the pristine wild human nature without intention of having to act right, only right toward Negan as he was some kind of new civilization god. But, have some good man over there, man that actually had family here in Sanctuary. 

“Shit, sorry doll. You know is not your fault, you know as well as I do. I’m just… just fucking pissed and sad, and you know I get defensive sometimes, it was not your fault. Is the fuckers fault. And that we know, I’m sorry.” His words sound real and steady, you know Negan’s mind and how he worked, and since he is already stressed was normal let some things out abruptly like that. But since he apologized instantly, he actually didn’t meant what he said about being yours and only your fault. You dry your tears with the palms of your hands quickly. “Is okay, actually I think is my fault, and I’m sorry for fuck the things up Ne, you know I didn’t like all of this.” Your eyes tearing as a waterfall, you didn’t meant to cry and make drama on the situation, Negan was pretty patiente with everything related to you, but you never take advantage of it. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you get up drying your tears and getting away of him to calm yourself a bit. Entering the bathroom you wash your face with cold water to stop the painful tears of remorse. 

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Prompt: Andreil, sleepwalking ??? Pleaaase 😯

Andrew was thrown into awareness by a loud clatter in the hallway. His feet hit the floor before his eyes were even fully open. His arm snapping out to wake Neil, but his arm hit cold sheets instead.

King blinked sleepily from the end of the bed. Sir looked terrified and was already climbing beneath the bed. For being roughly the size of a small Labrador Sir was a complete chicken. Every time there was a storm, a vacuum cleaner, a door shut, a cup dropped, etc Sir was beneath the bed. “Just like you, running from his problems.” Andrew always mocked.

King was completely indifferent to everything. The only place he was remotely happy was Neil’s lap. Something that Neil was not stupid enough to poke fun of Andrew about, but the silence and smug looks infuriated Andrew all the same. King had already turned over and went back to sleep. “Useless flea bags. Don’t know why I continue to feed you.” As Andrew stretched and padded off to the hallway.

Honestly, he cared about the cats an absurd amount. He had carried King to the vet three times in the last year alone. Old age was beginning to catch up to them all. Andrew passed the hall mirror, and didn’t even bother to glance over. 35 looked the same as 30 and 25 before that.

Andrew arrived at the hallway and stared down at the mess in front of him. Neil was squatted down tying his running shoes on the wrong feet. One of the shoes were Andrew’s. Neil’s eyes were closed and his hair stuck straight up on his head. There were pillow marks on his face, and drool on his cheek. Andrew considered taking this photo and seeing if Neil was still contacted for ad campaigns.

Neil had started sleepwalking last year, after they had both retired. His mind knew that he was retired, but his body still tried to wake him up for night practices and morning runs. The first couple of times had been stressful events for them both. Andrew startled from sleep thinking they were being attacked, and seeing Neil so vulnerable making his heart strain. Now they were obnoxious if slightly humorous events that were slowly decreasing in frequency.

“Junkie. You are retired. Come back to bed or I am locking the door.”

Neil’s eyes finally opened fully and he looked down at his feet. “‘Drew did it again?” And he looked up at Andrew pitifully. Andrew snorted before reaching his hand down and helping Neil stand up.

“You are cleaning up that mess and getting Sir out from under the bed.” Before pressing his lips to Neil’s forehead, and putting them both back into the bed.

Morning (Jeonghan)

Originally posted by 12fools

“ can you write something about Jeonghan’s little mustache”

A/N: p l s this gif is what started this whole thing plus your ask @svteenthings
You know if I had a dollar for everytime I can see Jeonghan’s lil mustache I’ll have a lot of money( 2 dollars)

  • You and Jeonghan have been dating for quite some time
  • around 3 years
  • and Jeonghan being the amazing person he is and loves his job has to leave for tour
  • but don’t worry he loves you too and his heart hurts when he has to leave
  • but you’re like no its okay!! its part of your job and you’ll have a blast

Keep reading

“Sir a new competitor opened just down the street, that’s the eighteenth one this year.” The sales associate rushed it, carrying boxes upon boxes of AAA batteries. His manager spun around in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought.
“By god.” He muttered, an ominous tone in his voice.
“Sir what do we do?” The young sales associate asked, visibly frightened. The managed stood up and looked down at his employee with sad eyes. A single tear streamed down his cheek as he broke the news.
“There’s nothing we can do.” He said, his voice calm. He knew this day would come. Soon enough, it always happened.
“But, sir.” The sales associate interjected, unwilling to accept defeat.
“Goddammit Jerry!” The manager slammed his fist on the desk on frustration. The sound of millions of batteries cluttered to the floor as Jerry dropped the box.
“There’s nothing we can do! If we lower our prices anymore we’d being paying people to take our stock. We just can’t survive. Not with 18 competitors. We’re finished.”
A moment of silence filled the room.
“Sir.” Jerry said quietly, cutting through the tense atmosphere.
“Just go.” The manager demanded pointing to the door.
“Sir, I-”
“Leave! Get out! I don’t want to hear it!” The manager bellowed. With a curt nod, the young man left the room, closing the door behind him. The manager sat down in his chair and pulled a picture out of his desk. In it he saw his mother smiling back at him.
“Oh Ma,” he said, tears falling freely from his eyes, “what am I gonna do?”

anonymous asked:

How about an imagine/story where the reader works for Harry, they like him but they act pretty hostile with one another. He calls them in for a formal meeting after they makes some mistakes, resulting in them getting upset and worked up to the point their asthma/anxiety plays up and he reacts sweetly.

You had worked for Harry for a few years now, always having been intimidated by him from the moment you met. Although he always used his manners, there was some tension between you guys due to his “superiority.”

One day though, you knew you had messed up. There was a deadline you had failed to meet, which cost the company a pretty big client. 

You didn’t want to face Harry, just knowing you were going to get fired because of a mistake that technically wasn’t even your fault. The screen had said you submitted everything, however that was not the case.

As you came in to work a couple minutes early, someone came by and gave you a note. A note from Harry. You didn’t want to look at it, but you did anyways. The note told you to come by his office at 8 sharp. You thought this was weird considering that’s when you were supposed to be at work, and he couldn’t have possibly known you were going to come in early. 

As the time got closer to 8, you made your way to his office, your heart beating fast and your hands shaking. You knocked on his door which he quickly opened, moving out of the way so you could walk in.

You hesitantly sat in the chair across from his as he sat down in front of you. You went to open your mouth to speak but he put his hand out, silently telling you not to. 

“Sir..” You managed to get out.

“You know you cost us a huge client, right?” He spoke, not even addressing you by name.

“Y-yeah, s-sir. I know.” You looked down at your hands, not wanting to meet his harsh glare. Your anxiety was causing you to breath heavily, which could potentially offset your asthma.

“If you know the risk…why did you let this client get away?” He folded his hands on top of his desk, looking at you.

“I-I’m sorry…The screen said everything was submitted…” You sneaked a peek up at his face, immediately regretting it. His eyes were now seared into your brain and tears began to form a pool over your eyes. 

Harry could tell you were upset, and he understood technology wasn’t always the greatest. He sat there is silence while your breathing got worse and tears were streaming down your face.

Once he realized what was happening he quickly moved to your side of the table, placing hands on your shoulders. “Love…calm down…it’s okay.” He wasn’t sure what to do, he was never this caring or concerned with his workers. 

You bit your lip and looked up at him, his eyes void of any anger. Your breathing was still out of control but your tears had stopped. “I-I swear I-I didn’t mean to lose the client, s-sir.”

He frowned because he could tell how upset you were. “Don’t be upset love.” He pulled you into his arms, rubbing your back softly. “Just…make sure everything is submitted next time…even if it says it’s been done.”

You nodded, just resting against his chest. This was a new side to your boss, and although you knew you shouldn’t be holding him like this, you couldn’t help but not want to let go. “I-I will.”

His Prince Will Come

Pain. Pain. Pound. Pound.

The last week has been pure pain for Sherlock Holmes. He has never felt such a complex mix of emotions at once: empty loneliness, burning anger, and, most of all, awful, frantic worrying. Every night has been sleepless; his brain is tired, overworked, for the first time in his life. The puzzle they gave him had been brutal, and it did not help that he had to solve it on his own. 

They took John

This was all a cruel game, a way to get Sherlock out of their hair for awhile, so they could enjoy themselves by going on more killing sprees. This was a team of England’s most wanted; he’s been tracking them for awhile now at the request of the government. They kill for no purpose except to get joy out of it, and they’ve found his weakness. He thought he’d got them, but now they have his weakness.

I’m coming for you, John.

He’d ignored five new murders during the past week, just to keep working, he had to keep working. He’d traveled across the country to remote locations, where the smallest hints were hidden, teasing him, telling him he’d never succeed. Yet he did, just in time. He drove at ninety miles per hour the whole way, breathing hard. He has five minutes left to get to him. He’s going to make it. He’s got to, or he’ll never forgive himself.

Keep running. Keep running. The stone hallway seems never-ending, but he can make out a doorway ahead. Almost there. It was genius, this plan. An old tunnel, entrance hidden inside the basement of a tiny church in a town people barely know exists. At the dead of night, I make my move. The clues left for him to figure out the location were, minuscule the likes of which he’d never seen: a strangely shaped nick in a wooden wall, a compartment inside the metal leg of a chair… yet somehow he managed to figure it out. And now, he must get to John. There are so many things he needs to tell him. He has to get to him. He has to find him.

Pound, pound, goes his heart, the heart he never knew he had until just a few years ago. Pain, whispers his brain; all his muscles are aching yet he doesn’t care. I’m coming, John. I’m coming. I’m-

He’s almost to the lit doorway. Almost to John. John, John, I -

The light dims, almost to black.


A shot. The thud of a body. 



Please don’t be you.

Can’t be you. No. I won’t allow it.



Please. John.

“Too late, Holmes.”

Who is it? The leader of the pack? A forgotten enemy? He can’t register the voice. He can’t even think.

“You tried your best, I suppose, and failed to save five people in the process. Oh, wait– six.”

N o .

N  o  .

J -

J   o  h n

His legs fall out from under him. His head hits the freezing stone floor and he doesn’t bother to try and stand again.

There’s no point.

A cold feeling on the back of his head. The click of a loaded gun.

“And now, it’s your turn. You cannot stop us, Sherlock Holmes. You failed. You couldn’t save your beloved friend, you couldn’t save five innocent people, and you can’t save yourself. 

“The game is over, Holmes. Goodbye, and good riddance.”

Time slows. Everything freezes.

He closes his eyes. It’s over. He can’t try anymore, not without John. And he knows it’s John, lying there motionless. He can tell from the silhouette, the familiar aura of homeliness and warmth and pleasure and… love? always radiating from his faithful army doctor, the one who he can’t live without. He’s finished. He’s never felt so hopeless, so willing to be gone from this world just so he may have a chance of seeing John again somewhere, sometime, even though heaven is not something he’s ever believed in. But then again, John is heaven. 

And… he can’t let heaven go.

No. No.


N O ! !

An inhuman, guttural scream fills the air, and he doesn’t realise for a moment that it is coming from his own throat. Adrenaline rushes through him, and he leaps to his feet, a strange buzzing in his ears seeming to whisper John. John. John. over and over again. Faster than ever thought humanly possible, he ducks, and he can feel the whoosh of the bullet just missing his head by inches. His hand closes around the small knife he’d hidden in his pant leg before he left (always extra protection for his John, always.) and manages to stab his would-be-executioner in the thigh, causing them to drop their gun, which he quickly snatches up. For John. Three masked men burst into the room, and Sherlock quickly locates the source of dim light– a bulb hanging from a string just through the doorway– and, squeezing his eyes shut, shoots at it. 

The sound of glass breaking echoes in the hall, the room goes dark, and he exhales a sigh of relief. But he’s not done yet. He drops to the ground before the men’s eyes adjust to the dark and crawls on hands and knees, smashing into the first man’s legs, knocking him to the floor. One man gets ahold of his gun and shoots; the bullet whizzes past Sherlock’s shoulder and before the man gets another chance to attack, Sherlock head-butts his stomach, causing him to fall into the third man, then takes his gun and smashes each of the men across the face, one, two, three times, until they pass out. Just like hitting those dead bodies with the riding crop at the mortuary, but this time he’s doing it for John. John. John. JOHN. There’s a silencer on one of their guns, and he picks it up and shoots each of the men, without even considering it. John.

He runs to him, kneels down beside him, takes his limp hand. Blood oozes from his stomach, and he isn’t moving. Please…don’t be dead. 

A pulse. Shallow, slow breathing. But he’s alive. Unresponsive, but alive.
Sherlock breathes another sigh of relief, this one not just of relief but of thanks to whatever supernatural being may be existing up there in the night sky. Alive, he’s breathing, let him stay alive. The bullet doesn’t look like it was shot from close range so it couldn’t have gone in too far, if he can get John to a hospital, or a doctor, in time…

A thud sounds not too far away, then the stomping of booted feet. They’ll have noticed by now that something went wrong. He needs to get away, get John somewhere safe. He heaves the body of the one he loves most over his shoulder. John is slightly heavy, but  he can manage. He needs to manage. He begins to run.

“He’s not fuckin’ dead?! Get him then!” comes the cry. The shouts of more men come from behind him, yet Sherlock keeps running, running towards the steps that lead back up to the church basement. He almost trips, but catches himself, keeping one hand over John’s wound all the whole, feeling the blood dripping through his fingers. His heart is thudding inside him, threatening to explode, and a single verse of an old song he once knew floats through his mind as he emerges from the basement…

Daddy, please don’t, it wasn’t his fault,
He means so much to me,
Daddy, please don’t, we’re gonna get married,
Just you wait and see…
Just you wait and see.

Surely they have backup coming, his chance of escaping is slim, growing smaller by the minute. He ducks around a corner, into another room, the weight of John bearing down on him, reminding him that John’s life is his responsibility now, and he’s got to think, think, God, Sherlock, you’ve got to-

The room is a kitchen. There’s a stove. And he can just make out a cloth on the counter. John still slung over his shoulder, he fumbles through the dark room until he finds the dial that turns the stove on, and a small blue flame flickers. 

The men thunder past, thinking he’s going towards the front door; he only has a minute until they realise he’s still in the building. He grabs the cloth with his free hand, puts the edge of it to the flame, and oh, thank the heavens, it catches, and he dashes out of the room and crouches by the corner; the men are arguing with each other in the main room, and the walls and floor are made of polished wood, and the flame is quickly spreading over the cloth and he lifts his aching arm and tosses it–

It hits the floor, and in moments, it catches and starts spreading; the men turn in alarm and yell at each other to call more backup, and this is Sherlock’s chance. He bursts out of his hiding place and dashes for the door, and they see him and grab their guns but they’re too late, he’s out the door and into the night and the fire has enveloped almost a whole wall and part of the floor and blocks their way to the door.

He runs like he’s never run before, clenching John’s shirt and trying to keep the blood in; he’s lost a lot and there’s not much time.

Just you wait and see…
Run, Joey, run, Joey, run, Joey, RUN!

The dirt road is long, but he keeps running, even though he can’t feel his legs and his chest is aching and his vision is blurred, and he can hear his own blood pounding in his ears, and all he can think is John, John, John, John, I need you, I love you, John, and I’ve never told you, I need to tell you–

There’s a car, turning into a lone driveway yards ahead of him. He runs even faster, screaming hoarsely, “My friend is hurt! Please! Help us, help him–”

Sherlock Holmes has never asked for help, let alone yelled for it. 

“Help us, please! Sir!” The man is getting out of the car, he’s in his fifties by the looks of it and not very wealthy (his house is tiny and falling apart), he turns with surprise and sees Sherlock coming towards him, John’s blood dripping from his hands, and he immediately runs to their aid–

“There’s a woman who’s a nurse a few streets away from here, get him in the car!” 

And they arrive at the house and the woman frets over John and carries him to a bed upstairs and the man tries to comfort Sherlock but he’s in shock and he’s crying, sobbing, tears falling from his blue eyes like gems, rare gems that no one ever sees unless they’re especially close to Sherlock, and he can’t stop murmuring, “John. John. John. John. John.”

He’s lost so much blood, they tell him, that they’re going to bring him to a hospital right away, he’s in critical condition. And he sobs harder, and he rides in the car with John’s head in his lap, cradling the doctor and smoothing his hair and adjusting the bandage over his wound and covering him in a blanket so wherever his mind is during all of this, he won’t be cold. He cries harder than ever as they take him from the car and whisk him away, leaving this man who could be broken forever if they don’t do their job, leaving him behind in the waiting room, head in hands, shaking all over.


★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Suddenly, John’s thoughts return.

And his first thought is, Sherlock. They shot him, didn’t they. They shot me. Where am I where is Sherlock oh god oh-

“Mr. Watson, it’s alright. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

The IV tube in his arm aches. His chest aches. He tries to move, but gentle hands push him back into the bed. His vision’s adjusting, and there are doctors, dressed in white, and there’s one not dressed in white, but wait, that’s…


Tears fill both sets of eyes, and Sherlock smiles, and John’s heart, weak as it feels, leaps in his chest, and he grins back.

“How long… how long have I been…”

“In a coma? Nine days, eight hours, and twenty-six minutes, but who’s counting?” Sherlock cannot suppress his smile. He’s so thankful that John is okay. He’s been here the entirety of those nine days and eight hours, sleeping next to John in a chair, tucking him in when he looks cold and adjusting his pillows just right, lifting him into the bed after the blood transfusion and the surgery to remove the bullet, helping to clean the bullet wound when needed, never letting go of his hand, no matter what. And he’s still holding it now, only now, John is able tighten his grip on the detective’s hand in return.

“What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” says the main doctor, a strict but kind woman named Muriel, bringing a cup of water to John’s lips and helping him drink. “This man,” she continues, gesturing to Sherlock, “set a church on fire, escaped a horde of gun-toting killers, finally rid the world of two of Scotland Yard’s most wanted, and got you here to this hospital, carrying you all the way. He hasn’t left this room since you got here, and I had to force him to eat and drink something every day. He won’t talk to me about his relationship with you, but it’s quite obvious he cares about you more than he cares about himself, and you’re very lucky to have him.” 

It takes John a minute to register this information. He remembers getting kidnapped, having to sit in a dark, cold room while people taunted and sometimes hurt him, having to eat and drink nothing but hard bread and soiled milk, and then… he’d been shot, and there was pain, and then nothing. But Sherlock. Coming to rescue him when he thought his situation was hopeless. Setting a building on fire for him, killing for him, risking his life for him. Oh, Sherlock. He’s always loved his detective, but now he loves him more than ever.

“H…how can I thank you, Sherlock?” His eyes fill with tears. Happy ones.

Sherlock squeezes John’s hand. “You can’t. Don’t bother.”

John squeezes back, weakly, and smiles. “You know that song from Snow White, the one where she’s singing about how someday her prince will come and-”

“Yes,” Sherlock interrupts, smirking. “And please don’t ask about my secret enthusiasm for Disney movies. ‘Someday My Prince Will Come,’ is it?”

“Mhmm,” John replies. “I won’t ask. But, Sherlock… my prince. Uhm. He’s… he’s come.”

Sherlock stares at John, and a tear slips down his cheek, his grin returning, bigger than ever. “And my prince is holding my hand, and I believe it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

The nurse returns to the room with a blanket. “He needs some rest, and as soon as we can, we’re going to start him on physical therapy.” She hands Sherlock the blanket, and he gently covers John with it. “Are you going to stay here, Mr. Holmes?”

“Of course,” Sherlock answers, and gripping John’s hand tighter, leans down and kisses him softly on the forehead. As his lips brush John’s skin, he whispers so that only John can hear:

“I love you.”

And before John falls into a peaceful sleep, he smiles, closes his eyes, and murmurs, “I love you, too.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★


John adjusts his coat on the back of his chair and picks up the menu, only to put it back down when he feels Sherlock’s eyes on him.

“I know I’m a wonderful sight, but do you have to stare like that? People are going to-”

“Oh, shut up.” Sherlock leans across the table and gives him a gentle kiss, to which John doesn’t complain. “Everyone’s guessed it from the start. Does it really matter anymore?”

John snickers. “I suppose not,” he replies, and then folds his hands neatly on the table and stares back at Sherlock. They both smile and continue to look into each other’s eyes.

“Ah, my favourite couple! Glad to see you’re doing better, Johnny boy. Up and walking again! What can I get you tonight? On the house, as always… oh, and an extra dessert for you two as well!” Angelo gives Sherlock a wink, which confuses John, but Sherlock grins secretively and winks back. They order their food, and converse as they eat. This is Sherlock’s most favourite thing; to look into John’s eyes when he speaks and see the pure emotion in them, the happiness and affection that he now knows how to show. After they finish (and enjoy their free dessert, slices of five-layer chocolate fudge cake), Angelo returns to the table with a small pink candle in the shape of a heart.

“Angelo, we’re about to leave,” John says, a puzzled look on his face as he stands up. “Why are you-”

“John, sit down,” Sherlock says in a serious tone, and Angelo smirks and whizzes away into the kitchen. John, with no idea what is going on, hesitates, then sits back down.

“You do remember our first time here?” Sherlock asks, combing a hand through his hair, which he managed to straighten a little earlier tonight. “The first time you tried to subtly ask about my sexuality, and we stared at each other for a total of at least five minutes–”

“Yes, I remember,” John interrupts. “Of course I remember. And it was just about five and a half minutes total, not that I was counting. What are you getting at?” He raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“This is where it all started. This is where my feelings for you really got the better of me,” Sherlock explains, fiddling with his sleeve. “This is where I realised, I’ve never felt this way about someone I’ve just met. This man could be my friend, my flatmate, my partner, but there’s something else about him. He’s different, and he makes me feel…happy. Not alone.” He clears his throat. “This is where our first official date was, after you kissed me that one time in the apartment where I was trying to teach you to play ‘Ode to Joy’ on the violin. This is where we came after that particularly exhausting case in which you had to kill a man, and you broke down and I comforted you. This is where it began, and where it’s going to begin again. I hope.” 

John looks at him curiously. What was Sherlock talking about?

“You asked me, John, how you could thank me for saving your life. There is really only one way you can thank me.” Sherlock reaches into his pocket and produces a small blue velvet box, and stands, walking slowly over to John’s side of the table, not breaking eye contact with him for a moment. “I cannot imagine a life without you. I figured that out when I saw you get shot. I want you here, with me, always. I won’t let you come to any harm, ever again. I love you more than anything in this universe, John Hamish Watson, and it would make me the happiest sociopath to ever exist if you would promise to stay with me forever.” 

John’s eyes widen, and he gasps as Sherlock kneels before him, opening the box to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful ring made of gold, with two sapphires and a diamond set into the metal.

“Will you marry me?”

John Watson has been through a lot, and he has felt love for many people, and been in happy situations many times, despite being an army veteran and seeing the harm humans are capable of causing to their own kind. But he has never felt this extent of absolute joy and pure, blooming love that he feels now, as he sees his prince looking at him expectantly, holding their future in his hands. And so, with tears in his eyes and a genuinely devoted smile on his face, he replies, “Yes.”

And Sherlock sweeps him out of his chair and holds him tightly to his chest, making sure not to touch the wound that is almost healed but still hurts to the touch sometimes, and slips the ring onto John’s finger, and John reaches up and kisses his husband more passionately than ever before, and Angelo grins as he begins to play “How Deep Is Your Love” over the radio, and people at nearby tables clap, and somewhere over on Baker Street Mrs. Hudson feels a change, a good change, and chuckles to herself as she boils tea, and Mycroft Holmes reveals a rare smile as he remembers what his brother told him was going to happen tonight, and high up in the sky, the moon glows a little brighter, and the stars twinkle, showing their happiness for this couple who will love each other forever, no matter what happens, and who are now finally united for the rest of their lives.

How deep is your love, how deep is your love
How deep is your love?
I really mean to learn
‘Cause we’re living in a world of fools
Breaking us down when they all should let us be
We belong to you and me

“I love you, Sherlock.”

“I love you too, John.”

And, yet again, it begins.


Yeah, so I first got the idea for this when I was listening to “Run Joey Run” by David Geddes in the car on the way to the beach, and it turned into this whole long thing, so I figured I’d post it here. I hope you like it! :) I love writing stories about Sherlock and John; it’s a lot of fun. Hopefully I’ll be able to post more writing more often. I loved how this one turned out.

(Shoutout to @currently-in-my-mind-palace ! Her blog is wonderful and she writes excellent fanfics! Give her a follow!)

Move-in Day

A/N: SMTM feels are starting to get to me, so I decided to release them with this fic ;-;

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Reader x Junoflo

Summary: It’s move-in day of your freshman year at the University of California in San Diego (UCSD), and you meet this guy in his junior year, junoflo, along the way.

Word Count: 1371

“Y/N, let’s go. You know traffic starts getting heavy around this time.” Your mom exclaims to you as she rushes to the moving truck with the last box of decorations.

“Ma, relax. UCSD is only an hour away… plus, none of my friends are getting there until tomorrow.” You say to your mom as you roll your suitcase to your car.

“Well… last time I checked your friends didn’t rent this moving truck for tomorrow.”

“Nor did they offer to help you move in. So I guess you’re stuck with us ‘dusty old people’” Your dad chimes in from the moving truck, trying to lighten the mood.

 Ever since you found out you got into UCSD, it was like heaven on earth. Especially since you got in with all your fave peoples. You’ve been looking at colleges ever since freshman year in highschool, and now it’s your time to be a freshie in college. One of your favorite parts about UCSD is their impressive music program. Not to mention their breathtaking campus.

 Once you stepped on campus during your sophomore year spring break, you knew this was the school for you. During this time you were there to visit your older brother, along with checking out the campus. Your brother was in his senior year, so he didn’t have much time left until graduation. Despite his limited time left in college, he would always give you the ‘super swaggie deluxe tour’ whenever you guys visited. He would never fail to reveal new parts of campus to you each time you two would hangout. Your favorite part was visiting the state of the art music studio they provided to their music majors. Even though your brother won’t be with you during your college years, you’ll always remember all the dope places he showed you on campus.

“This is so exciting, I wonder who your roomie is~” Your mom squeals as she locks the door.

“Yea, what if you get one of those crazy ass roommates those YouTube kids always make storytimes about?” Your dad says as he starts the truck, and as your mom hops in the car with you.

“Please, sir…Get out” You say to your dad rolling up the window.

“Like the movie, cau-” Your dad says, but you barely hear him cause your mom’s voice distracts you as she asks about ‘vlogging your adventurous college years’.

“Why?” You ask your mom with the driest tone ever, looking her a dead ass in her eyes.

  Your mom gets a little pissed and scolds you about how ‘you better not let that damn camera sit in your suitcase’ when she spent a nice amount of dollars on it. It’s been about 30 minutes into the ride, but you still feel like you’re forever away from your new home for the next 4 years.

“I guess you’re right. We should have left earlier.” You say to your mom in a lighthearted defeated tone.

“I’m always right….” Your mom looks at you trying to hold a stern face, before you both start to crack up.

 After about 45 minutes of loud ass music and a karaoke session, car edition with your mom, you make it to UCSD. It’s around noon, and it is packed. The exciting part is soon to come, but now the hard part is trying to find a parking spot.

 It’s been another 20 minutes, and you’ve finally found a parking spot. You and your parents go to check in and get your key, then head up to your room with a few boxes. Once you get to your room, it is empty. But you’re happy because you have a great view!

“Now, I’m just gonna set up my Bluetooth, and we can start this little move in party!” You exclaim to your parents. With a few more hours of unloading and unpacking, you and your parents start to get tired. But just as you plop on your bed, you hear a little knock on your door along with a female’s voice saying ‘hello’ accompanied by a little giggle.

“Hey, are you Monica?” You ask the girl at the door half panting with a smile on your face.

“Yea, I’m assuming you’re Y/N. And I’m also assuming that you just finished packing.” She says with a quick chuckle.

 You nod as a sign of confirmation, then you open up the door wider to be greeted by her parents. Once they bring in her boxes and set them down, everyone starts to introduce themselves. After an hour and a half of unpacking, both of your parents leave; allowing you and Monica some time to get to know each other.

“You’re from Chicago… fr!?! I couldn’t tell cause you seem like a Bay Area baby.” You say following a series of laughter from both of you. As you look at your phone, you realize it’s only 5:43pm. It’s still early.

“Are you cool with hanging out tonight, or do you already have plans?”

“Actually, I’m meeting up with some friends at 7, but didn’t you say your friends aren’t coming until tomorrow?”


“Come hang with us. My people are pretty chill, and I think we’re pretty low key.” She says inviting you out with her.

 After about an hour of getting ready, you both head out to a pub near campus. You both arrive to the pub after a 15 minute uber ride. The little pub is well known for their dark and warm decor, along with a set tone of a jazz and r&b mix. Monica sees her friends sitting at circular coach with their drinks. Once you two reach the table, a certain guy catches your eye.

 Despite the dark lighting, you can see him perfectly. He’s wearing a plain white shirt, gold chain, and a pair of studs in his ears. His black hair is faded on the sides, styled to show off the volume and slight curls he has in his head. As he looks up, you both make slight eye contact before he smirks at you, making you quickly glance away.
To your defense. You’ve never been one to flirt with guys… neither have you had your first boyfriend.

“Y/N, these are my friends…”, and she starts to name all of the people sitting at the table. Once she gets to this guy, you find out his name is Sam.

“You can call me Juno.” He suggests in his smooth deep voice.

“None of us call him that, it’s just his rapper name” Chimes in one of Monica’s friends whose name is Tyler.

 As you start to get a little more comfortable with Monica’s crew, you start to see that they are pretty chill people. Most of the conversations are just about them catching up or getting to know you, but occasionally they would break off into little convos. Since you are sitting by Juno, he seemes to initiate a lot of conversations with you.

“Ahh so you’re a business major. You must like being miss boss lady, right? Aye, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a little control.” Juno says in a teasing tone.

“Says the man who changed his major twice. Aye, but there’s nothing wrong with following your dreams.” You respond to him in an equally teasing tone.

The more you talk to this man, the more you seem to become attracted to him. After you exchange numbers, Sam says to you…

“You know… I noticed you looking at me when you first came in, but that would make me a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I was watching you ever since you walked in this pub.” He confesses to you accompanied by a quick smirk and laugh. “But… I would like to get to know you more. How about a lunch date tomorrow?”

“I think I’ll like that…” You slightly smirk at him while dying on the inside.

“Think?!” He says to you feigning an offended look.

“I don’t know Mr.Junoflo, I guess we’ll have to find out tomorrow.” You say to him, as you say your farewell. Then go follow Monica and the others out of the pub to go home.

A/N: Hehhehehe… I’m dying now ;-;, but I had fun writing this. Let me know if this should be a series ( don’t worry I’ll add smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)~.  And shoutout to all the new children that follow me. Thx people :3)

anonymous asked:

Hello! Sorry to bother you but do you have any tipps for making manips? Yours look so beautiful but I always struggle to cut out the characters neatly - thank you for your time!

Thank you! I started learning to Manip after joining the fandom and is still pretty new at this. But the pursuit of Hugh/Mads perfection and a lot of free time really motivated me to get better. Ok so here is the process of getting a good cut out (warning: long technical post ahead)

Firstly i’m going to assume you use Photoshop and is proficient with the basics. If you are just starting out i would recommend this youtube channel Phlearn that is great for learning how to use layers/masks and such. 

1) Choosing your source material

Getting a good high resolution picture to cut out goes a long way towards how your picture will turn out in the end. Get the highest resolution or size you can. Usually promotional photoshoots are great because the background is usually clean and the subject is in focus. If you found the picture on google, reverse search the image to get a higher resolution one. Hugh-Dancy.Net and are usually pretty good sources. 

If your source is a screenshot (which often is) then you might have a bit more of work to do. Especially season 2, where the lighting comes from Bryan’s I-phone and a couple of fireflies. Get a good screenshot from a HD copy of the movie/episode if you can and then hit that Shadows and Highlights button! (Image>Adjustments>Shadows and Highlights). 

Don’t worry if your the image look bad at this point. You just want to see the edges clearer to extract. You can go back in with curves later and adjust it

If the background is too similar in color to your subject e.g Hugh’s dark curls on a black background, use Levels to increase the contrast. You can turn it off later.

Sometimes the source material is just not good so no matter what you do it is not going to be perfect. Just gotta accept it and use lots of filters to cover up the flaws

2) Select and Mask

Ok, so you got your source image. There are many ways to select your subject but i use Select and Mask ( Select> Select and Mask). if you use a Magic wand or a Quick Selection tool, your selection might be acceptable if the background is clean but the selection will never be perfect. If you do, try not to use the cut tool, use a layer mask so at least you can go in with smoothing and feathering later. 

So using the Select and mask

- Once in the program, use the quick selection brush to pick out a quick selection of your subject

- use the brush tool to clean up the edges. Take your time

- Now you are thinking ok, i have done that but whats the difference with just using this without going into Select and Mask. The difference is when you are dealing with Hair. Specifically the floofy, glorious out of control mess that is Hugh Dancy’s curls. Cutting out Mads’ crisco sleek head is usually pretty straight forward, even the silver wind tossed locks of Michael Kolhaas. But our murder puppy needs a bit more TLC.

Take this picture for example

Take a moment to appreciate the beauty that is Hugh Dancy. No seriously, take your time. We’ll wait. Yell at him, throw some things, bang your fist who gave you the right, sir! Get it out of your system. Ok now to continue. 

The relatively white background makes it easier to cut but using a magic wand means all his pretty fly away curls gets cut off. 

Go in with your select tool and get all his curls selected

Now to cut out all the white bits behind his hair, use the Refine Edge Tool and run it over the Curls. Don’t use too big a brush. Take your time. After you are done, hit that decontaminate button and load unto a new layer mask. Put a solid color layer behind your work to check the details

Ok, this looks pretty ok, we got all the curls. But usually it will look good on colors that are similar to the initial background. A dark color background will show up a multitude of flaws

In this case you gotta go in with a small brush and clean it up on your layer mask. use a small soft black brush and wipe all the white bits peeking through. If the background you will be using wont show up the flaws, then don’t bother. 

3) Check it on the background of your choice. The final bits are just blending and adjusting saturation and color.

Here’s a good youtube tutorial on using the Select and Mask

tl;dr: Get a good source image, use your refine edge tool, lots of time and patience!

Hope that helps! 

A First For Everything

Originally posted by the-walking-dead-art

Summary: Negan takes Lexi’s virginity

Pairing: Negan x Lexi

Warning: Smut, Violence

You were sitting on your bed in your tiny room when you heard a knock on the door. Before you could answer Sasha walked in, “some of Negan’s men are here, Rick told me to come get you”.  “Negan’s men are here?, I thought they weren’t supposed to come pick up their share until next week” you replied. “Hmph, don’t expect people like them to follow their own word” Sasha said as she walked out of your room. You quickly got up and threw on your oversized denim jacket and walked out to find everyone standing by the gate looking at each other in confusion. You joined them and glanced over at Rick who looked just as confused as everyone else. There were four Saviors standing in front of the group, two you didn’t recognize and two you remembered named Simon and Dwight. Dwight was looking around at the group and at the other Alexandrian’s, especially the women, when his gaze fell upon you and remained there as Simon began to speak. “Hello again, you sorry fucks. We’re here for a pickup”, he then gave a big devious grin. “You’re a week early, we don’t have all your supplies yet” stated Rick. Simon chuckled and took a few steps forward, “oh we’re not here for supplies Ricky boy, you see Negan’s getting a little bored of his wives, and no other girls back home are striking his fancy. So he’s relied on me and Dwight here’s good taste to pick out one of these bitches to bring back to him”. You leaned over and looked at the other girls standing around you, who all looked just as shocked as you did, until everyone looked back over at you with even more horror than before. Confused you looked straight again and saw Dwight standing right in front of you now. “Hey Simon, take a look at this one!” he called out. Simon was now looking at you too and strided over, “well hello beautiful, what’s your name?” he asked. You swallowed the lump in your throat and began to speak, “L-Lexi, my name is Lexi”. Simon and Dwight looked at each other and grinned, then they both grabbed one of your arms and began pulling you towards their truck. “Stop!” yelled Rick, as he started to run after them, until one of the other Saviors hit him in the gut and he fell to the ground in pain. Simon and Dwight shoved you into the truck and got in, as the other two Saviors shut the gate behind them and jumped in too.

 The truck was off and awhile later you arrived in front of Negan’s compound.  The gate opened and you drove in. The Saviors jumped out of the truck and Simon grabbed your arm and pulled you out. “I’ll take her to the boss man” he said to Dwight, who nodded at him then gave you a wink before walking off. You looked around terrified, this was the first time you’ve ever been inside Negan’s compound, and the first time you’ve ever met Negan or even seen him in the flesh. Your heart started racing as Simon brought you to Negan’s door and knocked on it. There was a short pause, then a deep, gravelly voice began to speak, “fuck off!”. “It’s Simon boss, I brought your new little playmate”. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so, come in” replied the deep voice. Simon opened the door, pushed you in, and closed the door behind him. Negan was sitting at his desk, looking down at a notepad with a pen in hand; he didn’t even bother looking up. “You found someone fast” he mumbled. “Dwight picked this one, she’s an Alexandrian” Simon replied, Negan chuckled “Rick the pricks probably pissed..good”. Finally he put his pen down and looked up at you with a smirk. You felt butterflies flutter around your stomach, he was gorgeous. You were never really interested in older men, but you’ve never seen one like Negan. Negan stood up and walked over to you and Simon. He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, you saw his leather jacket slung over the chair at the desk, and the bat you’ve heard so much about, Lucille, layed against his desk. Negan’s slicked back black hair was starting to unslick itself, and pieces fell to his face which he pushed back. “Hi sweetheart, I’m Negan, what’s your name?” Negan said as he looked you up and down.  “Her names Lexi” Simon said sounding proud of himself. Negan looked over at him, “did I fucking ask you?”. The proud voice slipped away as Simon muttered a low “no, sir”. “Get the fuck out” Negan said and Simon quickly turned around and left.

 Negan looked back at you and smiled, “aren’t you a pretty little thing” he raised one hand and stroked your cheek. You flinched, “p-please I don’t want to stay here, I want to go home” you whispered looking down. “Don’t worry doll, little Negan here just wants the feel of some new pussy, then I’ll have Simon and Dwight take you home”.  You remained quiet and kept your gaze down at the floor. “Look doll, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to, if you want to leave so fucking badly you can go, I’ll get Dwight and Simon to find me someone else”. Negan gave a disappointed sigh and turned around. “No!” you said loudly, surprising yourself and Negan. Negan spinned around and locked eyes with you. “I-I’ll do it, it’s just that I’m..a virgin” you started to blush. “No motherfucking way” he said with a chuckle. “Oh baby, don’t be embarrassed, don’t be embarrassed at fucking all. I wanted new pussy, I wasn’t expecting that fucker Dwight to find pussy this new, he deserves a fucking promotion”. You felt slightly relieved that Negan was okay with it, but you were nervous that it was going to hurt and that you wouldn’t be able to please him like the other women he’s been with can. You looked down and noticed that he was already getting an erection, the thought that you were making a man like Negan this excited made you unbelievably aroused. Negan cupped your face and brought it up so that he could look into your eyes. “You’ll get to feel him soon enough sweetheart” he said gently. You giggled but quickly stopped when he slipped one of his hands behind your neck and began softly yet passionately kissing you, the feel of his scratchy salt and pepper beard against your soft face sent shivers through your whole body. He slipped his warm, wet tongue into your mouth and you let out a quiet moan. He then picked you up with one arm and carried you over to his desk, with the other arm he pushed his notepad and pen to the floor and placed you on top.  He pulled his lips away from yours and began to take your denim jacket off, which he threw onto his chair with his jacket, and lifted up your shirt and threw it on the floor.  He started to kiss you again, but slowly started kissing and nibbling your ear, then kissed down to your neck, giving a few hard, wet kisses that were sure to leave a bruise. You wrapped your legs around his waist, as you felt his big, rough hands slip around your back and begin unhooking your bra, he unhooked it with ease. “You’ve done that before, haven’t you?” you asked with a giggle. You could feel Negan smirk against your neck. He then continued kissing down until he got to your breasts; he grabbed one of your nipples in his mouth and began softly sucking on it, as you gasped. His hands now moved down to the front of your jeans, he began unbuttoning them and pulled them off along with your now drenched panties, all while keeping your nipple in his mouth. He took a few steps back and looked at your completely naked body.

 “Enjoying the view?” you asked, “baby, you have no fucking idea” he replied.  He placed each hand on one of your legs and pushed them open, exposing your soaked pussy. He slid his face right into it and you felt his tongue flicking your clit. Negan put one of his hands on your chest and gently pushed you down so you were laying fully on your back. His licks were getting faster, and he pushed his face in even more adding pressure.  You gave out a loud moan this time and threw in a “fuck, Negan”.  You looked down between your legs, and saw him looking up at you giving you a little wink, before pulling his mouth away. “I’m gonna stick a finger in baby, just to make sure you’re a little more ready for the real deal. And if you moan loud enough for me, I’ll stick a second one in….you ready?”. You gave a small nod and grabbed onto the sides of the desk as you felt his middle finger slid into your hole. “Fuck your wet” he whispered in a heavy voice. You let out a big gasp as he slowly thrusted his finger in and out of you. It surprisingly wasn’t as painful as you were expecting, it felt amazing. “P-Put the second one in” you moaned, Negan looked up at you and smirked “already? You sure?”. “Just fucking do it Negan, please” you whimpered, “well, alright doll”. Slowly Negan slipped in another finger and gently started finger fucking you and curving his fingers upwards so they were hitting your g-spot. You felt a warm knot form and just when you thought it couldn’t feel any better Negan began sucking on your clit. The knot grew bigger and felt so warm you couldn’t stand it anymore. You started grinding your pussy against his face and fingers and started whimpering “fuck..fuck..fuck” as you came all over him. Negan stood back up and slid his fingers out of you and sucked on them, before wiping the pussy juice residue off of his face and beard. 

“I think that’s the sweetest cherry pie, I’ve ever had the fucking pleasure to try, doll”. He then once again scooped you up but this time carried you over to his huge king-sized bed, that had deep red silk sheets neatly draped over it. He laid you down and pulled off his shirt while you began unbuttoning his jeans as he done earlier for you. You slid his jeans down to the floor and looked and his full on erection that was now only being covered by his white boxer briefs. His ‘little Negan’ wasn’t little at all. Negan pulled his underwear down and you took in the sight of all his love. “Lay back baby, I’ll fucking take care of you” he whispered into your ear. You did as you were told and laid back, at this point you’d do anything he asked of you.  Negan lifted his hand to his mouth and spit into it before stoking himself getting his cock slippery. “Aren’t you going to get a condom?” you asked.  “Don’t worry doll, my pull-out skills are honed”, you didn’t know why but you trusted Negan and let him continue without the condom. Negan grabbed his cock and slowly put it to your entrance and began sliding it up and down over your folds and around your clit, before carefully sliding into your gushing hole. You threw your head back; his cock had way, way more girth than his two fingers. He gently thrusted into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him. You bit onto your finger trying to silence the moans that were flooding out of you. ”I wanna hear it..moan for me” Negan said roughly as he was already breathing heavy and letting out little grunts here and there. You stopped biting your finger and grabbed onto the silky sheets and let your moans pour out. “That’s what I like to hear” Negan said his voice so deep and gravelly yet smooth like velvet. He began picking up the pace and started thrusting faster and faster, the sounds of each other’s moans and his body slapping against yours filled the room. “I’m gonna fucking cum Lexi” Negan roughly moaned. Your eyes rolled back as he continued rocking into you, until he pulled out and finished on your pubic region. He let out heavy gasps as he tried catching his breath, then he flopped down onto the bed beside you. You laid there and looked up at the ceiling as you came down from the ecstasy you were feeling. “Goddamnit baby, that pussy is fucking heaven” he mumbled. By now it was late and you looked over at Negan “should I leave now?” you asked. He looked over at you, “by all means if you want to leave you can you satisfied the fuck out of me doll, but you can always clean yourself off and stay the night, I can get Dwight or Simon to drive you home in the morning, after round two?”. “I’d like that” you replied with a smile as you gave Negan a kiss before going into the bathroom to clean off.

He guys. As you can see Sir and I had a fun play day this week hehehe. This is everything that I bought from this awesome site called they make a while bunch of different kink stuff that is great quality, works fantastic and is reasonably priced :) I juat wanted to do a shot out for an awesome company that helped me break some barriers this week hehehe.

Sir and I got to use the dildo at the club and I have to say OMGods I am LOVING it. At first I was nervous about bringing it to the club because my hole always tightens up when someone else is trying to stuck something up it. When I am not in control my hole tries to shut down. Well I have to say that that didn’t happen with this dildo. It is strong enough that it stays up when I’m trying to sit on it but flexible enough that my ass can take a lot of it hehehe. Sir opened me up real fast and good with it. I was pushing my ass back hard on that dildo to get it in farther. I actaully wanted the dildo in my ass farther and farther hehehe. And the really nice thing is that it is the same size and girth of my Sir so riding it is like riding my Sir. I can now practice taking his dick while he isn’t even around hehehe. Hope Sir can handle all the practice I get while he is on vacation hehehe.

Now our play day started out with Sir being really aggressive. He was certainly in FULL control and was making it know hehehe. He was working my nips and chest HARD! slapping them harder and harder. He was ordering me to strip and I was on my best behavior. No brat was in that room that night lol. When Sir took his shirt off he had a white mesh what looked like a shirt but ended up being a onesie on. It really showed off his nips grrrrrr. He took off his pants and got on the bed with his ass in the air and told me to eat his ass! Grrrrrrr one of my favorite activities. I lept up and devoured ass much Sir ass as I could. Dupping my tongue in and out. Nibbling at his ass cheeks and running my beard all over his ass. Mmmmmmmm. That’s when Sir told me to get my new paddle from the pic. Sadly I had forgotten that item so he had me get out my new dildo and he lubed it up and worked it into my ass. Man did it feel good. I opened up really nice and slowly and stayed open. Sir was able ti stuck his dick directly into my ass without my ass tring to fight him hehehe. YAY! That was such a great feeling. I can’t wait till Sir goes to town with his rock hard aching to get off dick and just ruins my ass hehehehe.

After that play Sir thought we should go to the hot tub but I got him distracted enough by playing with his nips that he wanted to get off first hehehe. I can be such a brat hehehe. I qorked his nips and then slowly sucked Sirs cock till he was nice and hard. Then I pushed a finger onto his hole and worked it on his hole while sucking. It got him so hard and he came really fast after that Hehehe. I like knowing some of my Sirs buttons. Don’t abuse them but know when to use them strategically hehehe. So afrer he recovered which took a minute. He was shuddering for almoat a minute hehehe we when to soak in the hot tub to recover which was nice. Everyone gets a chance to warm up and recover before round two hehehe. And round two to my surprise ended up being for me :) hehehe. Sir had me get out my new vibrator and was working over my whole body with it. My nips, chest, legs, feet…everything. MAN it felt good. Espically when he was working my feet lol. After my body got to feel the vibrator my dick got his turn. He was feeling good and when Sir put it on the spot just below my dick head on the underside of my dick I blew. It was sooooo great and I just let go and came hehehe. And this time Sir didn’t turn the pleasure into pain by continuing to rub my dick head.thank you Sir. It was nice to ride the pleasure the whole time :) remember boys to alwaya thank your Sir qhen you cum. It is his gift to you when he lets that happen
:) mmmmmmm it was such a nice night. Can’t wait to do it again hehehe. Have fun all you nasty fuckers out there. BYES

headlights (Reader X Reggie)


Warning: … involves an accident.. that’s pretty much it

Request: Yes

A/N : well this was my first none jughead Imagine… hopefully it’s not bad. It’s quite weird writing about an accident because the only accident I’ve been in ( Thank God ) is when I was 9. We were driving in Mexico and suddenly this car was going mega fast and hit the back side of my grandma’s truck, and I was playing my Gameboy.. and so we kinda swerved and the window was open.. my face hit the backseat of my mom’s seat and I my Gameboy went flying out ….. MAN WAS I PISSED AT THAT GUY. I remember I walked over to the Guy’s car and grabbed a rock from the side of the road and threw it on his side window, my mom had to pay for that damage . XD


Finally it was the end of my shift, due to it being the weekend Pop asked if I could stay a bit longer on my shift, since Mrs.Harmony had decided to take a day off. Of course I said yes because it means free food for me and extra cash, which I need. Sadly because of the extension of my shift, I couldn’t go the the party that someone had planned tonight. It was currently 11:53 p.m. and thank goodness my house is just about six minutes away from here. I quickly run to the back locker room, grab my things , check out from my shift and ran to my car. I start the engine and let it heat up for two minutes due to the cold night that the winter has brought to Riverdale. Once the engine is ready I start to drive home. I drive on the road that’s between the double sided forest. When I’m about 3 minutes away from home I stop at the intersection and check if any cars are coming, I start to increase my acceleration but I notice two bright headlights from the corner of my eye coming closer in lighting speed.

Before I could even slam on the breaks the impact of the car hits my side of the car,as a result causes my car to flip. I felt like my body was frozen in time while everything moves in slow motion. I feel the window class break and cut against my skin, my head slamming onto the steering wheel and the seat belt pressing deeply into my chest cutting my oxygen flow. A few seconds later, after the car had stopped moving, I painfully pull my phone out and call Reggie’s number.

“ SUP (Y/N)! You should co-”

“Reggie I was in an accident Please just hurry and call the ambulance, I’m at maple road” I tiredly speak into the phone.

“(Y/N/N), stay on the line in coming right now!” He assures me. Faintly I hear Reggie screaming at someone to call the ambulance.

Every 10 seconds Reggie would speak and ask if I’m still on the line, and all I can say in a weak voice is “yes.” And with every answer my voice starts to fade.
4 minutes later I hear a car screeching to a stop and a car door slamming. I feel Someone open the driver side of my car and pull me out of my seat.
“(Y/N) i’m here okay, I’m here. Breath with me, in, out… in , out.” I here Reggie speak to me, though I know he’s right next to me I feel like his voice is fading away.

“(Y/N) don’t fall asleep! The ambulance is on it’s way.”
Suddenly I think of the person who crashed into me.

” Reggie, what about the other driver.. Are.. are they okay?” I ask with difficulty.

“(Y/N) a friend is helping him, but just stay with me. I hear the ambulance.”

Within seconds I hear the ambulance and I feel myself being lifted off the ground and put onto a bed and carried into the ambulance. I could here Reggie in the background arguing trying to get in with me.

“Sir, you can’t ride with us only family members.”

“But.. She’s my umm..girlfriend.” He argues back

“ Sir , rules are rules I can’t let… SIR get out of the car right now!”

Softly I feel Reggie hold my hand as he says “I’m right here for you .” And that’s the last thing I remember until passing out.

I hear a beeping sound of a machine and the feeling of needles and strings being attached to me. When I open my eyes I’m blinded by the white light above me, once my eyes get used to the lighting I look around and notice I’m in a hospital room… I then feel movement around my lap area and notice Reggie lying his head on my lap, gently I start to stroke his hair as I wait for him to wake up.

I guess he feels my touch automatically because he springs up from his position and looks at me.
“(Y/N) you’re okay! How do you feel, are you in pain, should I call the doctor?”

I laugh lightly but hiss when I feel my rib area ache.
“ I’m fine Reggie.. just a few bruises here and there but I’m a big Girl, I’ll be fine.”

“ (Y/N) what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know.. I was just driving back home until I reached an intersection and stopped at the stop sign, I looked both ways to check if any cars were coming but saw none. When I wanted to drive again from the corner of my eyes I saw bright lights.. next thing I knew I was in a crash.”

“Why didn’t you call me to take you home? You know it’s winter and the roads get icy! Not to mention that the other driver was drunk and didn’t stop at the stop sign.”

“Call you Reggie? Either way we would have been in a crash! At least only one of us got hurt.” I state weakly feeling myself getting tired because of the argument.

“ Well I would be the one driving, so the car would have hit my side and you’d have less of the impact! While you now got ALL of the impact!”

“WHY DO YOU CARE? I got hit, Get. over. it! Besides you’re my BEST FRIEND and you’re acting as if you are my boyfriend, hell even my father!”

Suddenly I notice the rage in Reggie’s eyes as he gets up from his seat and hovers over me with both of his hand resting on each side of my head.
Suddenly I feel his lips crash into mine and hands as if they were magnets, attach onto Reggie’s neck and hold him in place. Reggie slightly pulls away and whispers “ stop being my friend, and will you be my girlfriend?”

Without a thought I pull him back and kiss him back.

Bats On A Desert Straight

Submitted by:

Length: Medium

The story of a maniac in the front seat, a demon in the back, and an insane drive beyond the desert

The evening heat glares down at the red Arizona hills. My filthy white mustang screams along the empty desert straight, the wheels throwing up enough dust to choke a camel. Ahead of me is a beautiful orange sunset. Behind me, dark turbulent clouds. The storm is chasing me.  But I’m the only man on the road, and am more than happy to run from it at divine speeds in my American chariot.

My lit camel shrouds me in delicious rich smoke, hiding the greasy hair, the cracked glasses and the maniac’s grin. Christ knows how long I’ve been driving or even where it is I’m driving to. This is the work of the empty bag of coke sliding around the passenger seat. I’m currently working on the second one, scooping up the white powder with a key and ramming it into my nose as quick as I can. 

The acid’s long gone, but still I see patterns flashing in the nothingness, and the quick shot of smack at the hotel room makes the tough leather seat feel like a sinking sofa. My glove compartment is enough to send me behind bars, but there’s no police here, there’s no one. The thought alone makes me start cackling wildly and the storm responds with its own, thunderous laughter.

Most of the adult world would frown on this devil’s drive, but stick any sane man in a meeting for 10 hours straight at some cheap southern hotel. Then offer him and his filing cabinet stuffed with narcotics a drive through the fucking Mojave and see if he dares resist it.

I snort up one more key, slapping the dashboard as it fries my brains. Then I crack a beer, slurp away the cool foam, and toss it behind me with a clatter. The contents soak into the sand briefly, before evaporating.


Perhaps hours have passed but there’s no way for me to know. My watch’s long since broken and I haven’t taken my shoe-less foot of the pedal once. Having become so engrossed with my speed, I swear I’ve become one with the motor. I do know that 3 packs of camels been smoked since. Realizing this fact, my fingers begin twitching for another. I raise my head from the steering wheel and grope all over the glove compartment, only finding the crumpled cartons.

It’s when I look up that I see something, the very first thing that’s not a cactus or a rock. But it’s a tree, its branches leaf-less and withered. It casts a vast shadow that stretches onto the road. 

Standing in that shadow is a man. At least I think it’s a man. Who knows? I can’t trust myself at all. I bring an empty beer up to my face, trying to use it as a telescope, but it only turns my vision foamy and green. I smash it against the side of the car and then once again reach for the non-existent camels. I curse and with a shout, stamp down on the pedal.


My brakes slam right next to the hitchhiker. The stop jolts me forward along with the cluttering sound of empty bottles and loose drugs. The dust cloud I’ve built up catches up with the car and smothers me in it. Spitting and thrashing, I attempt to shake it off. The hitchhiker hasn’t said a word so far in this debacle. Perhaps he’s afraid? But when I finally do see him, it’s me who feels fear.

He’s taller than any man should be, seven feet at least, with arms that look broken and stretch down past his knees. Sweats starts pouring down me as my eyes follow them down to his fingers. Oh god, those fingers. So long, so pale. They show all the minute bones, yet not a single vein. They’re twitching ever so slightly, clacking curled claws hitting against each other.

Calm yourself, I think, you’re just in a very deep well of drugs right now and you’re probably scaring the man to death. Sort yourself out.

So I do, with a quick dab of emergency speed on my gums I find the courage to look up at his face with a demented grin. I wish I hadn’t, because there is no face, just a long bovine skull, dirty and covered in scraps of meat. There’s only blackness in the eyes, like of a deep ocean at night. I can’t even stutter out a word before he’s clambering into the back-seat, rocking the car as he slouches down.

“W-w-here, are you headed?” I finally say, my throat drier than the desert around us from the tobacco, dust and mortal panic.

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