so when miles tried to kill him he was could be as good as dead already

Start Over.

(a quick story on what happened after Dark walked away from the mirror…)

“Damien! Damien, it’s time to come out now! This game isn’t going on anymore!”
The Colonel had been wandering aimlessly through the whole manor twice now, this time peeking underneath chairs and around doors. The excitement of this little game of hide and seek was still buzzing inside him, even after three hours, and he was looking forward to finding his friends, seeing their faces of mocked disappointment and then laughter. Just like their school days. He was starting to appreciate Mark’s little get together. Strange how quiet the house seemed now though. Oh so quiet. Except for a light ringing in his ears that seemed to follow him. “Come on! Where are you hiding?”
“I’m here, William.” said a familiar voice.
The Colonel spun around fast to the voice and saw Damien standing in the doorway, loosely holding his cane in his hand. A smile instantly rose under William’s moustache, but it faded slightly as he observed Damien more carefully. Something was off. He looked untidy, which was unnatural for Damien; his usual flatly press shirt was now unbuttoned and open at the collar, and his pristine white bowtie was missing. His hair was no longer slipped back but dangling loosely over the side of his face, nearly covering his eye. And… was that eyeliner? A bruised black eye? Either way it brought out that rather intimidating stare he was giving him.
William laughed and clapped his hands as he slowly approached him. “Damien! Very well done. You really got me! For a while there I actually thought you were dead!” As he got to Damien, he reached out and held his arm, just to confirm he was really there. “My goodness, you look awful! Did a dog attack you or something?”
Damien glanced down at William’s hand. He knew by the straining ligaments in the his hand and the sharp creases of his blazer sleeve between William’s fingers that it was a tight and desperate grip… but he couldn’t feel it. One side of his mind reasoned that, well, obviously we wouldn’t be able to feel anything, being a corpse now. The other side of his mind just wanted to cry. Damien rested his cold hand on William’s and sighed. “… I had a small accident, yes.” He told him, stiffly tilting his neck to one side for a second.
The Colonel chuckled, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I found you!” Scanning Damien’s body, he saw the cane and was reminded. “-Oh, also, you left these behind.” He pulled out of his pockets Damien’s black Mayor badge and his white bowtie, and passed them to Damien. “Wouldn’t want to go back to the office without them, would ya?” he chuckled again, his voice breaking, almost making his laughing seem like sobbing. “Now, where is Celine?” He let go of his friend and began to wander out of the room again, stumbling over his feet like a toddler. “Celine! Darling, where are you hiding?”
As William turned a corner, Damien stepped out of the doorway ahead of him. For a moment, the Colonel wondered how he got there so quick. “Celine is gone, Colonel.” Damien assured him. This was a lie. She was, in some ways, standing right in front of him.
William frowned a little in confusion. “…Gone? She left already? I didn’t see her go.” There was pause for thought. Damien’s mind was racing. Tell him the truth. No, that will make him madder than he already is. But it’s cruel, he’s our friend. He still thinks I’m Damien, I think that’s enough to keep him satisfied for now. But what about me?
Just as Damien was about to answer, William started to laugh. “She probably ran away! Yes. Couldn’t stand the failure of me finding her. She was never that good at hide and seek, even when we were young. You remember, our old games of hide and seek?”
Damien nodded. His mind gave a sigh, one of relief, one of frustration.
“Ah. Good times.” The Colonel began to pass Damien until he was stopped by Damien’s cane. In the distance was the sound of approaching police sirens.
Damien looked at him sternly. “Listen, Colonel. We have to go now.”
“Why? Go where?”
“Away from this house.” He began to head to a nearby door. “The police will be coming soon.”
William followed him, still perplexed. “Why? What’s happened?”
“Mark is dead.”
William stopped instantly. Damien hung back and cautiously watched as fear casted over William’s face. He stuttered, “… But he isn’t. I… I didn’t kill him. It was a joke, right?”
“Yes, it was a joke.” Damien insisted as he returned to William’s side and hooked his arm through his. He tugged William with him as he strode towards the door and said, “More sinister than a joke. It was a set up. Mark was angry at you and Celine so he set you up so you would get arrested.”
Letting Damien pull him towards the door, William pressed, “But he’s not dead. They can’t arrest me, I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Yes, you didn’t. But that doesn’t matter to the police. They don’t care if the suspect is the real criminal or falsely accused; they just want to capture a bad guy, put him away, and get a promotion for it.” They reached the door, where Damien swung the Colonel in front of him so he could look him in the eye and tell him firmly, “Never trust the police, Colonel. Never.”
William nodded lightly, a little scared at how cold his friend’s gaze has gotten. “…Ok, I won’t in future.”
“Come on, then.” Damien open the door and walked outside.
William paused as he remembered. “Wait… what about Bully? They’re still in there.”
“They don’t matter now.” Damien called back as he continued to walk away and up the path that lead up to the mountain side. “Nothing does.”
William spotted that Damien left his cane leaning against the wall next to the door. Why would he leave it? He picked it up and ran after Damien, just as the police sirens stopped and car doors started to open and close.

The police wouldn’t have been able to stop them if they had saw them. Within the blink of an eye, Damien and William would have jumped an extra mile ahead of where they would have previously been seen. But still the hike was slow for them. Damien’s mind rushed with regrets of picking a body with a broken leg as well as a broken neck. Best to just teleport to places in future.
Suddenly William jumped to his side and put the cane back in Damien’s hand. “You seem to be hobbling there, old boy. Use your cane, for goodness sakes. You need it now more than ever before!” William chuckled.
Damien didn’t smile. He let the cane fall from his fingers. “It’s not mine anymore.” He walked on.
William picked the cane back up and tried to catch up to him. “But you’re the Mayor. This is yours. It was given to you by-”
“Not anymore!” Damien yelled, staring at William with the look of a snarling wolf. On seeing William retreat with a startled gaze, Damien looked away and sighed, trying to calm down. Rolling his shoulders, he growled, “Mark is the Mayor now.”
“How? Why?”
“Because he got away and… is pretending to be me.” He took my body. He took my life with it, actually. He felt his fists clenching up and his shell cracking. “I bet it was him who called the police on you. They believe him now, not me…” He sighed and looked to the ground. “I can’t be Damien anymore.” He looked back at William, who was shuffling his way closer, still holding tight to the cane. “And you can’t be Colonel William Warford anymore.”
William blinked in shock. “What? Why?”
“Because the police are looking for a Colonel William Warford! They’re probably on a man hunt for you. You’ll have to change your name so they don’t find you.”
His face fell to a pout fit for a guilty puppy’s face. “But…. I like ‘William’.”
Damien sighed and thought for a second. Let him have it. His nickname, at least. “… Will… You can have Will.”
His smile miraculously grew back as he cheered, “Yay! Will Warford.”
Something that hadn’t appeared on Damien’s face for a small while showed up; a smile. It didn’t seem to suit him anymore. But he still smiled, because Wilford was smiling right back at him. “Wilford sounds better don’t you think?”
Wilford beamed. “… Yes. It sounds cleaner, authoritarian, powerful.”
“Suits you more than William, if I might say.” Damien said and they continued their trek down the mountain. They were coming close to a town. They would stay there for a while, just until they had thought out how they would get their lives back.
“What about you?” Wilford asked just to break the silence. “What’s your name gonna be now?”
Damien shrugged, “I don’t know.” After a small pause he admitted, “I wish I was still Damien.” His hands were in his pockets for the majority of the journey, the left hand was busy running the black silk of the Mayor badge he once wore through his fingers, the right hand was gripping the bowtie. His skin seemed to turn grey as anger built up inside him. “I wish this never happened. I wish it never had to be this way. I wish I had power enough to turn back time and stop all this happening to us… Or at least, I wish I had the power to go back and kill Mark myself when I had the chance.”
“Wow!” Wilford yelled suddenly, breaking Damien’s concentrated rage. He giggled nervously and said, “You got a little dark there, all of a sudden. Are you alright, Damien?”
Damien stopped walking. … That would be ironic wouldn’t it. It rhymes with the back-stabbing son of a bitch’s name anyway. Wouldn’t it make our justice a little sweeter?
He looked up with his new abnormally creepy smile. “… Dark.”
Dark looked back to Wilford and told him, “Call me Dark from now on. Dark and Wilford. A nice fresh start for all of us.” He swung his arm around Wilford’s shoulders and rested it there as they both walked together.  
“Yeah. Dark and Wilford!… Wilford… War… Wilford War.” Wilford shook his head. “Doesn’t sound nice with just War on the end.”
“We’ll find something for you.” Dark assured.
Wilford looked around him, then at the cane he held. He gasped and held out the cane as he declared, “Wilford War-stick!”
Dark scowled at him. “…No.”
Wilford sighed disappointedly and looked around again. “Wilford War… branch!”
“No. That’s even worse.” Dark took his arm off Wilford’s shoulders and walked on ahead.
“Wilford Warburton?… War-butt-on! Haha!”
“Stop it.”

“Wilford Wardrobe!” Wilford announced, his voice muffled from the inside of the hotel cupboard.
Dark opened the cupboard door and scowled at Wilford who looked at him with an expression that was trying hard to contain a laugh. “It’s not funny anymore.” Dark groaned, hanging his blazer up on a wire hanger.
Wilford observed Dark’s sullen face and frowned. “You found it funny before? Even since we found each other after the chaos back at the manor, I haven’t heard you laugh, not even mockingly. It’s like you’ve suddenly changed, Damien.”
Dark’s lip twitched and he growled, “… I have changed. For a start, I’m not Damien anymore!!”
Wilford flinched. He had not seen Damien- sorry, Dark, in this way. It was usually him who would snap at Dark, and Dark would retreat or just give up having the argument with him. Now… Wilford felt scared to anger him. Not because he was scared of getting hurt. But because he was scared Dark was going to get sick of him and leave him.
Dark saw the fear in Wilford’s eyes through his rose-tinted glasses. That was uncalled for. Let him say it. He’s known ‘Damien’ for years, it’ll take a while to adjust. “… Sorry.” Dark mumbled. “I’m sorry Will. I… I don’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s fine.” Wilford said as he began to climb out of the cupboard. “Mark has obviously made you angry. He’s made me a little peeved too. Trying to play dead on me so that blasted bastard detective would put me away. Ha!” He walked into the bathroom and continued calling to Dark, “To be honest, the detective is the only person I wish this whole ‘playing dead’ thing wasn’t a joke! Haha!”
Dark didn’t answer. Both sides of him saddened.
“I think I should change my appearance.” Wilford abruptly called out from the bathroom.
Dark blinked. “Sorry?”
Wilford took off his glasses and looked into the mirror. He brushed his moustache with the tips of his fingers. “Well, if I change my name, I should change how I look too! Like you did! You’ve changed from Damien to Dark, and also changed from a well-suited Mayor to a bummed-out businessman! Haha!”
“…Yes.” Dark said. He had moved to the waste bin and turned out his pockets. He took out his bowtie and stared at it. He wondered… He walked to the bathroom. “Here.” he said, placing his bowtie on the side of the sink. “I don’t need this anymore.”
Wilford stared at the bowtie for a while. He smiled. It reminded him of Damien. He held it up to his collar. Nice, but it need to be a bit more colourful. The sound of wood snapping came from the other room and Wilford peeked out to see Dark had snapped his cane in half. He put the broken pieces in the waste bin along with the Mayor badge. Wilford huffed and laughed, “You really are taking this disguise thing seriously!”

Wilford had been gone for a while; he said he had an idea and needed to go to the launderette. Dark sat in the room alone. Well, as alone as a body with two souls could be. There was a deep conversation going on inside his mind.
He’s not going to continue acting like ‘Mayor Damien’. Yeah, he’s got a new identity he can use, so he’s probably going to find another life to live. He could be anywhere. Not so, there’s still a chance we can find him. He’s in your body anyway, I’m sure you’d be able to sense him whenever he’s near. …Maybe. It’s still going to be difficult, like finding a needle in a hay stack. But remember, this is a very shiny needle. If he’s still as pompous and arrogant, and still pursuing show business, he’ll be shouting where he is to the sky and back. …Possibly. You need to be more positive about this. …How can I be positive while a head-up-his-own-ass fucker is walking around in my body while we’re both stuck in this broken, numb carcass and have to be tied to the trigger-happy madman our friend has become?! Damien! … I’m sorry, Celine. It’s just… it’s not fair. Hey, think about the soul this body belongs to, trapped in that horrible mansion. Do you think they’re having a fairer time than us? …No. I can’t believe you made me do that, to throw them out, our friend that you helped get a job, the friend that trusted us. If you’re so mad about it, then why did you come along for this ride?
“Ha ha ha HA!” The door to the room was kicked open. Wilford tip-toed into the room holding his coat over his body to hide from Dark like a curtain.
“What did you do?”
Wilford dropped the coat and stood tall with his arms out wide. “Ta-da!” He didn’t look much different; only four things had changed. One, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, two, his suspender had faded from red to pink, and three, on his collar of his mustard shirt he wore a bowtie as equally pink as the suspenders. But the fourth change really caught Dark’s eye. His once thick brown moustache was now trimmed to a curly perfection and coloured a beautiful rosy pink. With a proud smile and a flourishing bow, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, Wilford Warfstache!”
As soon as the coat dropped Dark had been staring at Wilford with wide eyes and mouth agape. Wilford held his pose waiting for a response eagerly; he spent a good few hours trying to wash out his suspenders with his new bowtie, while also trying to find the right Kool Aid drink-mix power that would give a similar rosy shade to his moustache. After a moment of utter silence, Dark smiled a genuine smile and said, “… It’s incredible!”
Wilford released himself from his pose and picked up his coat to hang it up. “Do you think the pink will stand out a bit too much?”
Dark nodded, “Absolutely. It’s pompous and wild and unorthodox. Suits you down to the ground.”
Wilford smiled at Dark as he headed into the bathroom. “Thank you!” He went to mirror to admire his handy work, never losing his wide and childish smile. He sighed, “Goodness, if only Celine was here to see this. What will she think?”
“… She’d be proud of you, Will.”
Wilford peeked around the door to Dark, who was walking over to him. “You think so?”
Dark was still smiling, but there was something in his expression. Uncertainty? Or was it pride? Either way he looked at Wilford in the same way a parent looks at their child accomplishing their dreams. “I know so.” Dark answered.
For some reason that sentence hit him hard in the chest. Almost as if Celine was right in front of him, which made him feel ecstatic. He walked up to Dark and surprised him with a tight hug. “Thanks, Dark.” Dark patted his back carefully, he didn’t want his shell to shatter just yet. Wilford finally pulled away from Dark and made his way to his room for bed; it had been a heavy past few days, but he didn’t really mind. All his friends were alive, Dark was going to stick with him for a while, and he got to express himself, finally, after so many years of intense mental and physical battles.
Damien? Yeah? Moments like that are why I came along for the ride.


Peter Hale x Reader



Imagine: You have a major crush on Peter Hale, but, because of the Pack, you have to keep it a secret. One day, when he comes to your house injured, you are not able to hide it any more and comes clean to him.

Word Count: 1560

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Ok, so this is a imagine that I’ve had in my head for a while now. Enjoy, My Lovelies. xx

Tag list: @hamartiamacguffin @illisea @thegreatficmaster @lovemesomepie85 @torn-and-frayed

If you want me to add you to my tag list, shoot me through a message and let me know. 

Dean looked up as the Y/C/H hunter walked into the viewing room. Her hair fell loosely around her face, the soft Hollywood curls framing it perfectly. His eyes wandered over her body, the way her jeans hugged her arse perfectly, the black tank she wore that was slightly see through, the deep red bra underneath that showed off some of her best assets. Her silver cross hung down over the top of her breasts, the diamonds shining in the light. Her heels clicked on the polished concrete floor, he glanced down at the ankle boots, that was a new looked. The look was Y/N all over, but a sexed up Y/N. He frowned at the duffels in her hand.


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do you? (reddie)

Type: One-shot

Summary: After years of not speaking after a break-up, Richie finally gets to talk to Eddie over the phone.

Pairing: Reddie

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: N/A

A/N: okay so i know i’m supposed to be writing rain and doing request and my blogrates but after hearing my favorite song by neyo called do you, i got so inspired and had to write this. i had to. i actually cried a lil writing this one. it’s probs sucks bc i didn’t edit it and wrote it in an hour but i hope you guys like it!

The gravel of the road cracked underneath Richie’s boots, his tread slow and hesitant.

Once he reached the booth, his hand reached out to touch the cold glass, staring at the phone on the inside. Did people even use these anymore?

This was a terrible idea. No, scratch that - it was the worst idea he could ever have.

It was selfish. It was disrespectful. It was low.

He just needed to hear his voice one more time.

The tall, curly headed boy finally stepped inside of the booth, not bothering to close the door behind him as he picked up the phone and deposited a coin inside.

Richie’s heart was beating so fast that he felt like it would explode out of his chest. Would he answer?


The sound of Eddie Kaspbrak’s voice on the other end brought tears to Richie’s eyes. A shaky breath sounded into the receiver on his end, doing his best to hold it together. It was a voice he wanted to hear for years now, and god, did it still sound just like a song.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“Hey Eds.. It’s me.”

Eddie froze when he heard that voice, one of his hands slapping down to rest against the counter in front of him so that he wouldn’t fall.

He almost didn’t believe this was real, just like he almost didn’t believe Richie had been trying for weeks to reach him.

“Hi…” Eddie’s greeting was flat, but that was purely because he didn’t want Richie to know that he still had an immediate effect on him.

The other line was silent for a few other beats, and Eddie’s heart started racing at the idea that it had disconnected. It frustrated him to think that he was actually upset at the prospect.

“Maybe.. maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I know you probably don’t care about anything I have to say.”

Eddie remained quiet, hanging onto the sound of Richie’s voice. He’d heard it the other night, listening to one of the five voice mails that Richie had left because Eddie refused to answer the phone.

“But you’re listening so.. thank you for that.”

It grew uncomfortably silent again, and Eddie could tell that Richie was waiting for him to say something.

“Why are you calling me, Richie?” He finally asked quietly, unable to hide the wariness in his voice. Before Richie could answer, they both flinched at the sound of a voice wafting over from Eddie’s living room.

“Eddie, who’s that?”

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skye07  asked:

Ohhh!!! you wrote the knitting Tony story!!!! I've been hunting that story for a long time!!! (was on a reading spree on your Tony tag, I'm having a swell of a time) So HOW ABOUT!! Someone finding or just ended up in Tony's stash room (it might be a floor if we are being honest, I would with his resources). I am salivating just imaginging the AMOUNT of yarn Tony must have collected, of all colours and types. Just, please. I would love you even more if you decide this prompt worthy~~

You mean that story I sent to bloody-bee-tea about Tony knitting? I’m surprised I haven’t written more Tony knitting, tbh. Hope you like it! Look out for under the cut!

This work can also be found on my Ao3 here.

Natasha had been investigating her new home when she stumbled into it. The room was gigantic, cube shelves covering the walls. Every single shelf had balls of yarn in it, starting with red in one corner and spreading in a circular rainbow of yarns, except for the few columns of shelves that were filled with needles, hooks, counters of some sort?

Natasha felt nervous for a reason she couldn’t explain. Perhaps because this room felt deeply personal? That the person who had set it up had taken time to organize it just right?

She stayed just long enough to tuck a gun under some soft yarn before she left. Each room needed at least one weapon hidden in it.

“Why would you ever need this in my stash?” Tony complained, shoving the gun into her hands. “You can use literally anything in there as a weapon. The straight needles can be used to stab people and the circular needles can be used as garrotes. My double-pointed needles can be used in close combat. And if your attacker is allergic to wool, he’s gonna be in for a bad time.”

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Batfamily x Reader - Warrior (Pt 1)


Requested: no

Song: none

Word Count: 1471


It was humid and dark outside around 3:30 am at Wayne manor, no stars shown through the thick clouds and smog. You would think that when it’s humid, the air would smell fresh and clean, but not here. The air smelled stale and compressed, like it was trying to suffocate you, but didn’t put in enough effort to actually succeed.

The house was quiet and dark, empty and silent. The halls were eerily quiet and no shadows were cast on the walls because the moon was buried deep behind the seemingly millions of layers of smoke. It was pitch black and silent, except for one room. The light in your bathroom was on and barely audible cries came out muffled through your hands as you sat on the floor next to the sink.

A razor covered in thick, red, fresh, blood sat in the sink along with all of your soul, poured out of your body with your blood, as well as your will to live, and by the bottle of pills spilled all over the floor, you already knew this, yet the house stayed silent, as if it was holding its breath, awaiting your next move.

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In Too Deep

Pairing: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Summary: After killing Dick Roman, the reader ends up in purgatory with Dean

Word Count: 1.600

Warnings: Violence, broken reader

A/N: This was written for @hannahindie and @pinknerdpanda Punk’s Not Dead Creative Challenge. Congrats on 200 followers and thanks for the fun challenge!

This does not exactly follow the original storyline.

Originally posted by helpimanspnfan

It was terrible. One moment, there was this bone in the leviathans throat, his huge mouth with its long teeth opening wide in a growl before everything suddenly became black goo.

Then there was purgatory. You didn’t realize it at first, all you could see were the huge, dark trees towering above you and a dead forest that seemed to stretch for miles. But then you were greeted by a creature that appeared out of nowhere.

“Welcome to Purgatory“ it grinned, licking its fangs and crouching down, steadying itself on the ground with his claws. It jumped at you, but you were faster and already had your knife drawn from your jacket. The thing basically jumped into its own death, right at your weapon, pulling you to the ground with it.

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Sugar and Spice (Negan x Female)

Summary: She has a huge crush on Negan and would do anything to make him happy. He misses the taste of real pumpkin pie, so she sets out to make it for him. 

Characters: Negan x Female 

Word Count: 4,348

Warnings: SUPER FLUFF, a lil’ angst, some swearing

Author’s Note: This was a a fic request sent in by @may85 who asked:

“How about a Negan one shot where the reader found out what kind of food was Negan’s favorite, so she goes out to find the ingredients, succeeds and makes it, but he finds out that she went outside the walls and flips his shit. Fluff with some delicious Negan kisses?” 

I don’t know why I picked pumpkin pie. I’m kind of one of those people who goes crazy over it in the fall, and I feel like Negan would like it too. This is just super fluffy and yummy. Hope you guys enjoy!

Big thanks to @ashzombie13 for beta’ing this fic for me! <3

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anonymous asked:

Could you write a small thing about ryan leaving bodies for ray as a sign of courtship? And ray being like "what the fuck?"

Gotcha covered Anon. Warning for some gore and thank you so much for the prompt:

It’s not every day Ray finds a dead guy outside of his apartment (if it had been, he would have moved a long time ago), but there he is, lying there, eyes wide open, body riddled with bullet holes, three fingers missing.

It’s the fingers that give away who this guy is; Ray having shot them off in a struggle for his gun two days ago. It’s one of the downsides of working for Geoff Ramsey, sometimes guys tried to take them out at all hours of the day. The crew quickly learned they either have to fight back or let it happen. So far, none of them have let it happen.

Ray’s not sure who would take the time to track this guy down and kill him; especially with very little to go on. Until today, he had never seen the man’s face, hadn’t heard his voice, knew virtually nothing about him other than he worked for someone who at some point wanted Geoff and anyone working for him dead. And that three of his fingers were missing. Because of Ray.

Carefully, Ray steps over the body, making a quick phone call to the clean up crew they have on stand by, and Barbara promises to make quick work with the disposal; puns and all.

The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, and when Ray returns home no more bodies have been left in the hall. He does wonder why none of the neighbors bothered to call the cops, but then he remembers that last week he had heard gunshots coming from What’s Her Face’s apartment upstairs followed by a loud cackle. The next morning, Ray talked to the woman and she acted as if nothing happened, but he could have sworn he saw specks of blood covering her shoes. He didn’t ask, she didn’t tell, and they went about their lives.

He thinks about moving again, but dismisses the idea. His neighbor may be morally questionable, but she’s a fantastic baker and the commute to the FAHC office is only fifteen minutes. Plus, he’s already moved once thanks. Not again.

The next morning, he nearly trips over another body, this one laying right outside of his bedroom door. He takes several steps back, watching the new body warily, half expecting it to stand up and start swinging, but it just continues to lie there, immobile, throat cut, blood spattered across the front of his shirt.

Ray doesn’t recognize this guy, but he still has a feeling he should know who he is, so he snaps a picture of him and sends it to Gavin.

Gavin responds with an incoherent text followed by about fifty exclamation points and question marks, and Ray can’t help laughing softly, possibly sounding a little hysterical. He doesn’t blame Gavin for his response, would have had the same had their roles been reversed (possibly with a few less punctuation marks), and only types: Do you know who this guy is?

Gavin doesn’t respond for a good fifty minutes, but when he does it’s an email. The guy turns out to be the boss of the first dead guy. Some small time criminal with his hand in too many cookie jars, a record a mile wide, and a petty grudge against Geoff.

Why are you standing over this dead guy? Did you kill him? Gavin sends the text almost immediately after the email.

Not me. Ray sends back because if he’s going to get accused of killing one of Geoff’s enemies, he better be the one who pulled the trigger.

What sort of mof leaves a dead body on your floor?

I’ll let you know when I do.

After another quick call to Barbara, who delivers about a dozen rapid-fire dead body puns before promising to take care of the new dead guy, Ray sets out to find who has been leaving dead people around his apartment.

Geoff has a fit when Ray tells him about the body. He goes on about having to pay Barb not once but twice in the same week, and how the last person who cost him this much money on cleaners had been Ryan after his last murder break. It gives Ray an idea, but he stores it away for later, instead asking Geoff if he knows who could be responsible.

“How the fuck should I know? I gotta go make a few calls, make sure Barb isn’t the one doing it. She tried this two years ago.” He stalks away muttering to himself and Ray huffs. So much for Geoff’s help.

For a brief, very brief, moment Ray thinks maybe Barbara is behind this, but then he reminds himself she’d be more likely to leave the bodies outside of Geoff’s apartment, and he immediately abandons the idea.

No one else in the crew is all that helpful, but Michael and Jeremy offer to keep an ear out. Gavin starts going over security camera footage outside Ray’s apartment building and in the lobby, but whoever is doing this must have disabled them because he has no luck.

Jack offers up her couch until they figure out who’s behind it, but Ray kindly brushes off her concern. He’s sure whoever is doing this isn’t threatening him, but he knows there’s a message there somewhere. He just doesn’t know what is is yet.

The only person he can’t seem to find is Ryan, but knowing him he’s holed up in Sandy Shores somewhere, hiding out from the cops. It wouldn’t be the first time and Ray knows it won’t be the last either.

He goes for broke around noon, stopping by Fakehaus’ hideout, but the only one around is Lawrence. He’s sitting behind a desk, tinkering with an old laptop, but looks up when Ray walks into the room.

“Oh great, there you are. You here to pay me?”

Ray stops, confused. “Pay you?”

“Yeah, pay me. Look, I tried calling Ramsey but he’s not answering and I’m about this close-” he held up his left hand, his index finger and thumb nearly touching “-to tracking Ryan down myself.” He glances at his finger and thumb again before widening the space exponentially. “Okay, more like this…” he trails off again, squinting at his hand, and then says, “Fuck it. Just tell Ryan he still owes me for the information.”


“Yeah, information,” Lawrence retorts impatiently. “I mean fuck, if Ramsey is going to send Haywood around looking for some guy who fucked him over once like eight years ago the least he can do is send him along with some money. Especially since I found not only him but the flunky who works for him.”

Ray turns to leave, ignoring Lawrence when he calls him back. He thinks he understands what’s going on, maybe, but he can’t be sure and the uncertainty is going to drive him crazy.

Too lost in his head to actually be paying attention, he nearly runs into Ryan as he’s leaving the hideout. He looks up, scowling at Ryan.

“Uh, hi,” Ryan says with an awkward wave.

Ray narrows his eyes at him, opens his mouth to say something no doubt profound or witty, but instead grumbles, “I hate puns.”

“What?” Taken aback, Ryan shuffles back a few steps, watching Ray warily.

“I hate puns, Ryan,” Ray repeats softly. “I hate puns and yet because of you I had to deal with them.”

“I don’t…” Ryan clears his throat, his cheeks turning red. His voice cracks when he says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Betrayed by one of my closest friends and he can’t even admit what he did.” He shakes his head, pushing Ryan back a step. “Dude, you left me not one but two bodies. Two. I mean, yeah they’re both involved in my almost death, but seriously. Can’t you have buried them in the desert like a normal criminal? I had to call Barb and I swear she has a book full of puns she has at the ready whenever anyone calls her. What the hell, Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan exclaims with a helpless shrug. “I thought, you know, you’d see the bodies and…”

“And what? What? I’d swoon at your feet and declare you my hero?” Ray can’t help it, he laughs, shaking his head again. “Dude, next time. Next time just ask me out like a normal person, you idiot.”

When something close to hope flickers across Ryan’s face, Ray knows his hunch had been right, but it doesn’t stop him from quickly saying, “That’s not a yes, by the way. You’re not getting a yes that easily.”

“I’ll wear you down,” Ryan replies with a self-assured grin.

“If I find another body on my doorstep it’ll be a definite no.”

“I make no promises.”

Ivar The Boneless x Reader
Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

Summary: You’re the daughter, princess and an heir to the throne. One night you sneek out to see the man who stole your heart. But you get interrupted by vikings and especially the man in the chariot leave a wrong first impression.
Words: 1964

You sat before the altar on your knees, the small cross you always wore neatly folded between your hands while you were praying to the lord Christus. It was a soft murmured that came over your lips, before you opened your eyes and looked up to the statue that was hanging on the wall. “Amen.” You wispered while making a cross sigh with your hands. You stood up and walked in silence out of the little church you had, back home. As a princess you were admired by your people, everybody nodded at you, bow or speak to you with ‘my lady’ or ‘your highness’. You hated that part of your life a little, always being the example towards your people. Playing by the rules and things like that. You wanted something adventurous for a change but there was hardly something here. When you walked through the gates you found your father walking over the courtyard, he saw you and stopped.
“Where have you been?” He asked you.
“Praying father.” You answered him with a soft polite voice. He didn’t got further on the subject and you walked besides him to the dining room where servants just briging on the food.
“Just in time.” Your father smiled. You were his oldest daughter, the rightfull heir to the throne he had. Your brother came in and took his pleace on the table so you followed.
“I’m going hunting tomorrow.” You brother said. You putted a piece of chicken in your mouth and slowly started to chew while looking at your father.
“That’s a great idea, you can use the experience.” He nodded.
“Can’t I come?” You asked. Both your father and brother looked at you as if you said something really stupid before they began to laugh.
“You’re a girl Y/n.” My father laughed. You pointed your eyes back to your dinner, ingnoring their laughter.
“My Lord,” You looked up to the guard who walked in. It was hard to behave like you didn’t know him when you were in fact a lot closer to him. You smiled behind your hand while looking at the handsome face Hendrick had.
“What is it?” My father asked.
“The great heathen Army conquered Wessex, it will be a matter of time before they come raid here.” He explained. Your smile disapeared and you looked at your father, he nodded practical.
“Double the guards, set in a curfew for the people. That heathen army will not take over my land.” He nodded strongly. Hendrick bow and gave you a fast gaze before he walked out again. You looked back at your father. “Not hunting, you two stay in the castle from now on.” He commanded the both of you. Great, in so far the adventure you were seeking.

You couldn’t take the risk to be seen so you wore your most neutral dress and a black cloak when you slipped out of the building. You had to see Hendrick one last time before that heathen army would take over the place. You father was confident that he could resist them but if they took Wessex, who had dubble the defenses your father had, what should stop them here? You lurked from behind the wall to the gates, soldiers everywere so you had to find another way to get out. You climed up a wooden shed that gave you acces to the wall. You smiled a little about the adventure you currently had. When non of the guards was looking you let yourself fall on the other side of the wall, running in to the woods. You picked your dress up while carefully walking through the woods to a big shed behind the fields. Hendrick his brown horse stood bound on a pole, trembling a little out of fear when you arrived. You pushed the door under a loud crack open and looked for the guard that stole your heart. “I didn’t thought you would come.” He said. You walked over to him, he pulled you against his body in a tide embrace.
“Do you really think that an heathen army and some extra guards will stop me from seeing you?” You asked smilling. He cupped your face and kissed you tenderly.
“This could be our last time together.” He wispered. You looked at him, in the dim light of the torch his face was more beautifull than ever.
“Than we should make the best of it.” You answered while biting your lip.
“We are Christians Y/n, we shouldn’t do this before marriage.”
“But if it is our last time, who would care? I love you Hendrick.” You pulled on his belt and he smiled in mischief. But for you could go any further you heared his horse calling out, you also heared something else. You looked over your shoulder towards the door. “You heared that?” You asked. Hendrick pressed his lips against your neck, give a little bite and you forgot your surrounding already. His belt felt on the ground when the sheddoor flew open with a load crack. You turned around and looked at … Vikings.

You yelled when they pulled you with your hair back outside. “Y/n, don’t say a word.” Hendrick yelled at you.
“He is a guard, kill him.” One of those men said. You looked at Hendrick while they slitting his throat without any form of mercy. You started to fight back, yelling, crying. “Silent you.” The man grinned, covering your mouth so you couldn’t yell anymore. And even if you could, they wouldn’t hear you, you were way to far from home.
“It’s a long time since we saw a nice looking slavegirl like you.” One of the vikings grinned. Your eyes filled with fear you looked how one of them trew of his belt, opening his pants.
“She isn’t a slave. Leave her.” Somebody said. You looked at the chariot with the white horse in front. You looked at the man who sat on it, piercing blue eyes, a face covered in blood and anger.
“She looks like a slave.” One of the others said. It was clear that the man on the chariot was in charge of the small group.
“That aren’t slaveclothes. And a slave wouldn’t come all the way out here to fuck a guard.” He pointed towards Hendrick. He was challenging his men, the most of them looked away or nodded, the man who was on his way for raping you looked back.
“I saw here first, I want her.” And as a reaction on that the man in the chariot drew his axe and trew it right at the other Viking, hitting him in the chest. The viking felt dead within seconds.
“Somebody else who wants to challenge me today?” He asked harshly towards the other men, their felt a long silence and the man in the chariot nodded satisfied before looking at you. “She’s mine.” He said with a smile, the fear you already had overcame the rest of your body.

They had a camp a couple of miles from your fathers kindom, they were closer than you thought … and they were smaller in numbers to. “I have word from your brothers that they will move north from Wessex.” You heard some of the man say to the man in the chariot. You have heared the stories of the viking Ragnar Lotbrok, he had sons and they were all here now. You looked at the ground but you felt the piercing eyes of that man right through you. You slowly looked up at him, he looked at you rather amuses.
“What are you? A princess?” He asked you. Your hand was folded around the little cross around your neck. “And a Christian.” He nodded before he looked at the other men. “Bring her to my tent.” He commanded them. They pulled you forward between the other vikings in. They all looked at you and maybe you should be glad that that men took you for himself, otherwise there wouldn’t be much left if they all did their thing with you. They bound your hands together, sat you secure on a pole in his tent. And then he came in … or rather he crawled in. You looked over his body to his legs who just laid there while he pulled his body further. “Never seen a cripple before?” He asked. You looked back at the ground, determined to be silent the whole time. He crawled towards you, pulled a knife. In fear you started to back away from him, he only laughed about it before cutting your restrains. “You can run away,” he pointed towards the exit while holding his head tilted. “But I told them that if you do they could have you. By the looks of it you never had a man before, can tell you that we vikings have a slightly different approach.” He explained amused. You let your fear and emotions not in the way of looking at him with a sort of confident. “Or you can stay here, give me some information, please me instead.” That was the deal you got from him. Your eyes gazed to the exit before looking back at him, you didn’t move. “Good choise.” He grinned. He pulled two cups and filled it with something you didn’t knew. He offered you one but you didn’t take it, you just watched. “Do you have a name?” He asked without looking up from his cup. He brought it to his lips and drank it out in one go. When he looked at you again his eyes were a little impatient. He was handsome … despite for the legs. He wasn’t that hard to look at.  “I killed my brother a couple of days ago so I’m not in the mood for your silence treatment. You gonna talk, if your want it or not.” He threatened. He killed his own brother? Why would he do that? Maybe he was lying, to get you to talk. So you lifted your chin a little, stubborn like always. His grinn disapeared and you swallowed the fear away. “Is it not a Christian thing, to put you on a cross if you didn’t obay the rules?” He asked rather silent. He putted your cup away and moved closer, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He forced your hand flat on the ground and pierced his knife right through the middle of it. You started yelling tried to pull away but he was so strong. “Like this?” He asked, looking a you with that grinn on his face you discust.
“Please.” You begged him softly, tears rolling down your face. He pulled his knife out of your hand, watching your blood sinking into the earth before he looked at you wet face.
“Hush now, I told you I wasn’t that patience.” He wispered while running his fingers over your cheek. You closed your eyes, trying to ignore his fingers over your skin. “Tell me, what’s your name?” He asked.
“Y/n. I’ m the princess.” You answered him quietly. You opened your eyes, looking at him. “And yes, I’m the heir to the trown, so if you want to bargain with me for surrender, it might work.” You get further. The cripple pulled back, smiling like an idiot.
“I’m not gonna bargain, you didn’t heared what I said before, you’re mine now.” He petted you on the knee and you only could stare to him while he ripped some fabric apart and start wrapping your bleeding hand. “Sorry for that, have anger issius that need working on. I’m Ivar by the way.” He looked up at you, still whit that cocky irritante smile of his. “Nice meeting you Y/n.” He said.

Good Boys Like Bad Girls (Part 5)

Summary:  Most teachers had a pet student but not many students had one. Except you.

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster… for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.”

Word Count: 4.5k

Kinks Included In This Chapter: Voyeurism, orgasm denial, choking

Author’s Note: I’m aware that a particular character goes through an apparent 180-degree turn in personality too suddenly in this chapter. I acknowledge this mistake and I will fix it at some point to make it flow much better but for now, I hope you can still enjoy it as is. 

(Woo two gifs for one chapter. I’ll give credits when I wake up as well)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Final Part

As you expected, Taehyung didn’t let you go that easily. He missed school, camped down in front of your house, and when that failed as you resorted to just not going home and staying with Jungkook wherever the hell he chose to spend his nights, he started following the both of you. That, of course, led to numerous clashes between the two boys that had Taehyung landing in the hospital every time without fail, just to get on his feet again and continue chasing you.

There was something to be said about his loyalty and perseverance but he was drawing too much attention to you and frankly, you were getting tired of his shit.

“Just go home, Taehyung. Let it go. Go on with your life. Seeing you get beat up every day is getting more than a little pathetic.” You wave your hands in the air dismissively, towering over the boy slumped on the floor and holding his stomach in agony.

“Never.” He hisses out and pulls his hand away from his stomach, showing you a metallic object held tightly in his fist.

You squint, struggling to decipher what the object covered in blood is when Jungkook speaks up.

“You stole my pocket knife.” He laughs, “You think that’s gonna help you?”

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Just a Soldier

Pairing: Robb x Reader

Note: Someone liked when I did alternate Westeros concepts so I thought it would be interesting if Robb wasn’t born a Stark and the heir of Winterfell was actually a woman. 

Summary: Robb is nothing but a soldier from Bear Island who has been dragged into the Battle of the Bastards to fight for House Stark. Y/N is the oldest child of Eddard and Catelyn Stark making her Queen in the North. With the help of her half-brother, their direwolves, and an army of Wildlings, she’s planning on taking back her home from Ramsay Bolton and try to find the happiness she lost years ago. 


Winter was coming. 

It was the phrase every Stark knew by heart. Though, the constant reminder from both her mother and father of their house words had easily become an annoyance as she was growing up. Yet, now that she was older, she understood their importance. 

Not only that, but with the faintest of smiles she only reserved for herself in the privacy of her tent, she would silently admit to her father that he had been right all along.  The air was growing colder, the snow was falling harder, and the wolves seemed to howl more than usual at the soon to be Winter sky. 

Winter wasn’t just coming anymore, winter was almost here; and that meant she needed to get home before the storms would start. 

What once were just words had become the fuel that ignited the growing fire of rage that burned deep in her belly that tried effortlessly to break free and set the world aflame. 

If only Arya could see her like this; she wouldn’t even recognize her big sister, but Y/N knew she would be proud. It had been years since she last saw her little sister, and if it wasn’t for Arya being Arya, maybe they could have been reunited by now. Brienne tried, she told Y/N the story of her, Arya, and The Hound. Y/N already knew how the story was going to end before Brienne had even made it there. 

The point was, Y/N was far from what Arya could remember and she was ready to prove that. Of course, she was ready for a reunion with Bran and Rickon as well. After she had helped them escape off with Hodor and Osha, she had counted down the days when she’d see her boys again. For now though, Y/N had Jon and that was enough. Actually, it was way more than enough. 

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@hello-shellhead messaged me yesterday about an idea for an AU based of the music video Genghis Khan and I hadn’t watched it before. So when I did, I instantly jumped at the idea because the song is really good and the video is so wonderful. So Gina and I talked about how it could possibly go and now it’s being turned into a post!

Tony is an evil genius who is constantly having his plans thwarted by Steve, who is a secret. The two of them have been enemies for a long time now but have actually developed a relationship of where they’re like friends. They talk to each other every now and then, in the middle of fights or if the other is tied up. It happens so often that Tony finds that he gets happy whenever Steve tries to infiltrate his lair, a small smile on his face as he sees his henchman bring Steve to him in cuffs. 

Outside of his evil life, Tony has a home life with a wife, Whitney, and two kids. He goes home every day, plays with his kids that he adores ( Peter and Harley), and eating dinner with his wife that he doesn’t love. Tony knows that he’s unhappy in his marriage, has known this for a long time but a part of him is so scared to leave it because this marriage is safe and what he knows. So every night, while Whitney sleeps, he stays awake and thinks about the possible lives he could be living. One person comes into his mind, blonde hair and blue eyes, and Tony shakes his head. He rejects the thought because the two of them could never be together, they’re too different. 

Steve was good and he was evil. 

What he didn’t know was that Steve was having a same thought, thousands of miles away as he stared out of his hotel room in Istanbul. 

The two of them meet again when Tony manages to lure Steve back to his lair to finish him off. He has Steve strapped to a metal table, a laser above and pointed at him, ready to kill. All Tony has to do is press the red button and Steve will be dead and gone, no longer ruining his plans. 

But he finds that he can’t do it and chooses to release Steve, stopping his henchman as they try to grab him. His feelings for Steve are deeper than he thought and he can’t imagine a life where Steve doesn’t exist in it. Whether it be foiling his schemes or talking to him like he isn’t one of the most dangerous people in the world. 

Steve almost makes a run for it but stops just as he’s at front entrance. He battles with his feelings for a moment, thinking that falling in love with Tony is absurd but it’s too late because it’s already happened. So he goes back and Tony is surprised to see him but by the soft and fond smile that Steve gives him, Tony knows that he’s no longer alone. 

Tony divorces Whitney (much to her rage), and starts a happier and better life with Steve and his kids. Tony has quit being a villain and lives contently in the life that he had once pictured for himself but didn’t think it was possible. But now he is living it. 

Whitney disappeared into the blue all of a sudden and while Tony and Steve live their lives, they don’t know that she has taken Tony’s place as a villain, quietly vowing to get Tony back. 

(We also thought that Tony wouldn’t have the golden nose but would have his arc reactor instead!)

One In The Same

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Bobby

Word Count: 2,806

Warnings: None

Request:  Can you do a Dean imagine where Bobby called a friend to help with a case but he had to send his daughter? And it just so happens that the daughter is basically a female Dean so Sam sets them up on a date.

Author’s Note: Please leave requests, I love to get them and read them! If you want to be tagged in my future fics and my Series Rewrite that is coming soon, let me know! Feedback is always appreciated!

@jensen-jarpad @supernatural-jackles @jpadjackles @impala-dreamer @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala @notnaturalanahi @mysteriouslyme81 @inmysparetime0 @wildfirewinchester @deathtonormalcy56 @27bmm @just-another-busy-fangirl

If you do not wish to be tagged, let me know and I’ll remove you. 

Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector

You’ve always been a lone hunter. When your mom died by a Djinn, your dad did everything he could to kill the monster. You were old enough to know what was real and what was just in your imagination and monsters were very much real.

Eventually, your dad killed the thing but he couldn’t stop there. He actively searched for monsters and killed them, protecting people and saving lives. He trained you like he was your drill sergeant so that once he was gone, you could take over and save people.

You didn’t have much of a choice but did as you were told anyways. Your father died not long ago and it broke your heart because you were the one to kill him. A demon was possessing you and did awful things that you’d rather not talk about. You busied yourself to shut the pain off but you were broken inside. You didn’t have anyone left or anywhere to go.

Yes, you’ve met hunters along the way but they were your dad’s friends. You’ve met Bobby Singer, Ellen and Jo, Frank and Rufus. They always asked for your dad’s help but he was gone now. You kept everything he owned, even his cell phone. No one but you know he died so if his phone rings, you assumed it would be another hunter.

You always had it on you but not one phone call came in. You were glad in a way because you liked hunting alone. You haven’t met another hunter that was the same as you so you never tried to find them.

You were at a bar, drinking a whiskey when you heard a phone ring. You knew that ringtone anywhere. You pulled out your dad’s phone and gulped. You answered it, putting it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked quietly. You didn’t know who it was because your dad never saved any contacts.

“Is Y/D/N there?” You heard a man ask.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Bobby Singer.” Your eyes widened at the name. You hadn’t seen him since you were a small child.

“Bobby? Are you okay?” He wouldn’t be calling unless it was an emergency.

“Who is this?” Bobby demanded.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Remember me?” You downed the rest of your whiskey and put a twenty on the counter. You got up and walked out of the bar and to your 1959 Cadillac Series 62.

“Y/N? It’s good to hear your voice but where is your dad?” You bit your lip and got behind the wheel but didn’t turn the car on.

“Dead.” You whispered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for calling then.”

“No, it’s fine. You always call for a reason. What’s up?”

“I’m working a case with Sam and Dean and I could really use your help.”

“Those are John’s boys, right? I remember you mentioning your friend John and his kids. I’ve never met them but I’ll come out to you. Where are you?” You grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.

“Phoenix, Arizona. How far away are you?”

“Only a few hundred miles. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You hung up before he could ask anything else and you sighed. Time to hit the road again. At least you’ll be busy this time.

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Bad Nights

Summary: When a rough night gets to be too much, and he doesn’t want to go home, Dick decides to crash at the nearest safe house in order to treat his injuries and get his head on straight. Of course it’s just his luck that there’s already a little brother there. And it looks like his bad night is about to get worse. Day 4 of batfam week

ao3 |

Dick was pissed.

And not in the someone made me angry and I’m gonna go pound a punching bag until it’s dust kind of pissed. More like if I don’t scream my lungs out I will explode kind of pissed. It almost felt like frustration tinged with bright spots of righteous anger. The sort of feelings he liked to keep bottled up until he could take them out on criminals. He hated feeling like this.

But the scariest part was what was hiding underneath the anger.

He let out a strangled yell, punching—and denting—a light pole as he staggered out of the alley. The metal bent upon impact with his gloved fist, and Dick didn’t even feel the least bit sorry. Served the stupid light pole right.

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Hope [Rick Grimes x Reader]

Hi, I have to say your blog is purely fantastic and I was looking for fics like this for so long xD And I’d like to request something: reader comes to Alexandria after escaping from some guys who used to do terrible things to her but she had to remain with them to survive. She doesn’t tell anyone, but one day she opens up to Rick. He gets really angry and goes after them and when he returns he makes her understand that no one will ever touch her again(except for him).I hope I’m not asking much ;)

Here you go @whyso-se-ri0us! I hope you like it! 💘

Words: 2,161

Warnings: Violence, Implied Sexual Assault, PTSD, Panic attack

A/N: I’m baaaaccccckkkkk! And NO SMUT! Are you surprised? Sorry I’ve been MIA for the past couple of days. I have been so exhausted and needed the rest.You’ve all been so wonderful and understanding! I truly have the best followers around! Okay, okay, enough with my babbling.

Keep reading

Not Your Enemy

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage, angst, language, brief graphic death (nightmare), emotional hurt/comfort, very lightly implied smut.

Word Count: 1317

Prompts: This one and this one

Song Inspiration: Not Your Enemy by Jesse McCartney (don’t judge - it just seemed fitting)

A/N: Hello hello! So yesterday, the amazing @deseraysmiththings posted these great writing prompts involving arranged marriage with the Demon King. I wrote a drabble for one that ultimately inspired this one-shot. I really hope you all like it.

Quick reminder for new readers just joining in (hi new readers!): normally, I write fics for Supernatural. However, I’m also a huge fan of WWE and love reading the works of that community as well. After reading some brilliant pieces from - and chatting with - the amazing @devitt-club, I got inspired to write a fic featuring one of my current favorites: Finn Bálor. So I’m new to the WWE fanfic crowd and couldn’t be more thankful for the love I’ve received so far.

Originally posted by thearchitectwwe

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Hospitals (Spencer Reid)

A/N: it is 4 am and i need sleep but i was inspired to write this. Now its bed time.

Word count: 1,995

It was another hard case. Spencer was gone for almost two weeks. In the end, it boiled down to nothing, the unsub escaped, and there were no more leads. It was as if he fell off the face of the earth. So when the team returned, you eagerly waited for spencer to call, saying he was on his way home. You knew he like to finish his paperwork immediately after a case, even though all the facts would stay in his head forever. After 3 hours of not even a text, you were beginning to worry. Just as you reached for your phone to call him, it rang. Looking at the caller ID, you saw it was Rossi, and you figured it was Spencer on the other side of the line. He frequently forgot to charge his phone on cases.

“Hello,” you said as you picked up the phone.

“(Y/N), it’s Rossi,” the voice said frazzled, ”I need you to come down to the hospital near your house”.

Immediately you panicked, “What happened David?” you tried to say without your voice wavering, but you failed.

“Its Spencer, he’s been shot”.

You immediately hung up the phone, threw on a pair of shoes and a jacket, and ran out to the car. You floored it down the street, and drove to the hospital about seven miles away. Your nails tapped the steering wheel to the beat of Spencer’s heart, a beat you remember from your hours of laying in bed aimlessly cuddling.

You got to the hospital in about ten minutes, doing well over the speed limit. You run into the emergency room, to the front desk, frantically begging to see him.

“All i need to do is see my fiance, please miss,” you begged

“I’m sorry ma’am,” the nurse started, “Dr. Reid is currently in surgery. He’ll be out in a few hours and I’ll be sure to let you know when he is”.

You couldn’t really form words, you just stood there with tear stained cheeks. It wasn’t until a set of hands wrapped around your shoulder. You jumped, not expecting someone to touch you, and turned around, seeing J.J.. Her face was splotchy from crying, her best friend was shot.

You still stood still, in shock. Maybe in your subconscious you were thinking that since you didn’t see the team when you came in it was all a sick joke. Looking past her shoulder, you spot the rest of the team with the same teared up eyes you had, and you knew it was real.

J.J. pulled you into a hug, and for the first time since talking to the nurse, you gave a reaction. You started to cry, more like sob, into the blonde’s shoulder, no doubt staining her shirt with your tears. As she tries to comfort you, you couldn’t help but feel like this is how she treats her children when they get hurt. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, squeezing you tightly. “he’ll be okay”.

“I know,” you said, between sobs, “Spence is a fighter.”

You knew he was, this was the third time in the last two years that you’ve been in this situation. Two years ago, he tried to trade himself for a victim, which resulted in a bullet going cleanly through his shoulder. The second time, he was shot through his kevlar, the bullet cut through it like a knife. It got him good in the stomach, but he recovered after a few weeks.

But he hasn’t been hurt this bad in a long time. Not since Tobias Hankel, and maybe the anthrax case. Now his life is on the line again, and to be honest, you didn’t know if you could handle this again. One time was already too many, but in the 7 years you’ve known him, he’s taken more risks than you have bones in your body.

You pulled away from J.J., and asked her and Derek to follow you to one of the conference rooms. You needed to know what exactly happened. And dso they told you.

The unsub disappeared for a few days, and never resurfaced. All the leads were dead ends, and in the end, they had to leave to case cold, and hoped that he might resurface in a nonviolent way. Spencer was the first to walk out the doors of Quantico, when all of a sudden a gunshot rang out. It was the unsub from the case. The only reason they figured that out was when he was holding the gun to spencer’s head, he confessed to everything. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Hotch shot him from behind, killing the unsub. Spencer collapsed, and lost a lot of blood,and was rushed to the hospital right then and there.

By the end of the story, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Derek noticed, and got you a drink of water from another room. When he was gone, you told J.J. how you felt.

“J.J., I don’t know if i can do this anymore,” I said, tears welling again.

Her eyes widened at my statement, as Morgan came back into the room. “What do you mean?” She asked.

“I don’t think i can be with the spencer anymore,” you let out, and she gasped.

“Don’t say that, Spencer is a good guy, you love him and he loves you,” Derek said.

“I know, and I do, but i don’t think i can handle the stress and the anxiety I get every time he walks out that door. It’s really getting to me”.

“You don’t think Will or Savannah freak out when one of us leave?” derek retorted, “It’s a hard job, and it’s even harder on those surrounding us, but you knew what you signed up for when you started dating. You can’t go doubting him now, not when he needs you”.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, no one was seeing why you were so frantic about it. “I’m pregnant” you blurted out. There was a pregnant pause as looks of shock encompass your friends faces. “I’m pregnant, and I’m so scared that one day he’s going to walk out that door and not come back. Or he’s going to be admitted to the hospital and not make it off the table. I’m scared that I’m going to have to raise or child alone, and every time I look at them, all I see is him looking back”. By the end of your speech, you were sobbing again, but this time you weren’t holding anything back. The big secret youve been keeping for two months was finally out.

“What’s worse,” you finished, “is that you guys know before Spencer does”.

It was quiet for a while. You knew they understood your fear, so they didn’t try to convince you that your fear was unfounded. You guys just sat in the conference room for about fifteen minutes, before a nurse came in.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), Dr. Reid is out of surgery. He’s been asking for you,” she said, “If you’ll follow me, I can escort you to him”. You shot out the seat, telling both her and your friends thank you, and then followed after her.

He was in the ICU, due to the amount of blood he lost. “We will keep hi for the next two days, then he should be well enough to go home,” she said, but you didn’t respond, too anxious, “He recovered from surgery well, most wouldn’t awaken from the anesthesia for a few hours.” There were more twists and turns to his room, but she finally paused and turned to face you. “This is the room. Because he is in the ICU, he can only have three visitors at a time. I will let his team know that he is up and I’ll bring two of them down in about 15 minutes”. She finished with a smile, walking down the hallway back to the waiting area.

You turned, suddenly nervous. Pushing the door open, you expected to see worse than you did. He had an IV in his arm and a blood bag. You knew under his dressing gown he had a giant patch covering his gunshot wound. You finally made eye contact, and he was watching you with a smile.

“Hi honey” He rasped out.

You ran right to him, kissing him deeply. You went to wrap your arm around him, but you flinched when he winced in pain. Pulling back, you looked at him sadly.

“Hi Spence,” you said, tears in your eyes, “How are you feeling?”

You knew it was a dumb question, but spencer still went along with it.

“If i’m honest, I’ve been worse” He said,” But i wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone”

You laughed, it was almost ironic. He was going through the pain now you’d be going through in seven months, and he didn’t even realise it. He looked at you confused as to why you’re laughing.

“I feel like i say this too often for it to be effective, but don’t you ever scare me like that again”. You said, poking his cheek. He chuckled along with you.

“You know i don’t go looking for trouble, it always seems to find me”. He laughed.

After your laughs calm down, you knew you had to tell him. Now was best before everyone came in to see him.

“Spence, when you got shot, I was seriously doubting if i wanted to stay with you anymore,” you said honestly. He looked hurt and confused, muttering out a small why. You continued, “Every time you walk out our door, i get such bad anxiety, thinking you won’t come back through those doors. I fear days like today, when i’m sitting by your side in the hospital. J.J. and Morgan talked me out of making a decision during a tremulous time like now. But there was one big reason why i felt like we shouldn’t be together. Not for the sake of me or you,” You grabbed his hand lightly, and put it on your stomach, and Spencer’s eyes widened, “but for this little one”.

His eyes lit up in joy. He wanted to become a father ever since Henry was born, and his dream was coming true.

“Spencer, I love you. I’m sorry i doubted our relationship. I’m just scared that you won’t be there for her, or him, and you’ll be a stranger”. You knew the words hurt him, he didn’t want to be like his own father, but he needed to hear it. “I want you to be more active in their life. I want you here, not across the country. And I’m not saying that you can’t work there anymore. I’m just asking that you be here more, not just for me, but for them”.

You thought he might have fought you on this, but he agreed easily.

“(Y/N), you’re the love of my life, and I’ll do anything for you. I want to be more involved as well, and i will be. I’ll do more cases as a consultant. I’ll be here at least 3 nights a week.” he said, “I’ll try not to get shot” he said joking.

“Too soon,” you responded.

Just then a knock rang at the door. You expected it to be J.J and Derek, but to your surprise, it was the whole team, along with the nurse, now looking disgruntled.

“You all can’t stay here for a long time, I’m bending the rules extremely for this already.” She snapped before leaving.

The team talked for hours, you looked at Spencer, lip speaking ‘Should we tell them’? He nodded his head and cleared his throat.

“Attention everyone,” He started, “I know these last few days have been stressful, but (Y/N) and I have some exciting news to tell”. He nodded to you to continue.

“We’re pregnant!”

Originally posted by aestheticpinkjoon

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: drabble, angst? idk, Siren!Jin, Siren!AU

Word count: 1012

Warnings: language, rated T

A/N: consider this a prologue for a oneshot i’m writing!

Milestone celebration drabblesSeokjin + Siren!AU 

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