Autumn Leaves

Title: Autumn Leaves

Pairing: Reader x Cas

Word count: 3,897

Theme song: Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran

Request: Oh my God! The last gif image with Castiel (the one with engagement) it’s perfect and I’d really like to read full one shot. Of course if you have time and want to :)

A/N: Autumn Leaves is one of Nana Kazzy’s favorite songs and she’s been wanting me to do a song fic to it! ;) There’s also some supplemental stuff at the end. But you’ll get there!


Your name: submit What is this?


It was on the first day of Autumn, with leaves falling around him, red like sparks from a flame in the crisp and quiet morning, that Cas let go.

All those fears, all those little nagging doubts he’d had, wondering how he would really know, he just let go of them all. Watching you crouched low over a fallen leaf still wet with the rain that had just passed, he fell in love. The words fell from his lips, soft as the leaves from the branches overhead, but you heard him just the same and turned to look at him.

“I love you, too,” you said with a smile that felt as new as the season. Hesitation hadn’t occurred to you; saying it back felt as easy as it had been to fall. You were full with the newness of the words and with every small look or touch, every shared moment that had led to them. You carried them with you as you stood and crossed over to Cas, letting him gather you in closely.

“I’ll love you forever,” he said. You tilted your head up to look at him, leaning into him and pressing your lips to his. You ran your hand soft through his dark hair, breathing him and the salt air in at once, feeling like it was some kind of magic to be there with him at all.

With one hand gentle over your hair and his other snaked around your waist, you stood together, sinking into it. Sinking into one another. Down past the sharp outcropping on which you stood, waves crashed distantly on the beach below, pulling sand and shells alike back into the foamy and depthless maw of the sea.

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Calum Imagine: Haunted House AU Part 2

Author: Rhine

Part 1


we are all searching for someone
whose demons play well with ours


Wake up.

The two words swim in and out of your head in rusty, dull echoes as you swam in and out of consciousness, your head muddled and confused.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

The words get a little clearer, the tone a little sharper – it was a voice you knew well, one with a deep timbre and throaty rumble behind every syllable.

Wake up.

Wake up.

“Wake up.”

Your eyes slowly blink open, the world hazy and fuzzy before you as you tried to refocus your sleep-ridden eyes to the world before you.

He’s the first thing you see.


The ends of his wavy hair reaching down to you, the shadows casted from his sculpted cheekbones, his earthy eyes and smirking lips.

“And here I was, thinking about having to kiss you awake.”

His tone is playful, teasing, like it always was, down to the grin on his mouth.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

His eyes narrow, as if trying to figure out whether or not you were kidding or not.

But your head is too muddle for coherent memories, let alone games – you shake your head slightly, and Calum lets out a faint hiss of breath, his mouth melting into an easy smile.

“You fell asleep, babe.”

“I – what?”

“You didn’t want to see the gory parts so you hid in my arms – nice choice, if I do say so myself – and somehow you managed to sleep through a thirty-minute bloody massacre. Which was pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.”

Your expression twists into one of confusion, slowly sitting up and propping yourself on one of the sofa’s cushions – your sofa’s cushion – with the help of Calum’s steady hands guiding you.

“We didn’t go to the haunted house?”

“’Course not, babe. You didn’t want to go, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“But you’ve been practically begging me for the past two months about going. We didn’t – we didn’t go?”

“We’ve been here the whole night, babe. You don’t remember?”

You shake your head no, still trying to process everything.

But the slashes on the wall – the cobwebs on the doors – the decay of the wood – the creaking of the stairs – the echo of his voice – the whispers of the house –

“You had a long day, love. You must be tired.”

He wraps you up in his sturdy arms, kissing the top of your forehead lightly. You close your eyes and breathe in his familiar, woodsy scent, taking in the warmth of his arms and his worn fingers tracing your back.

“Yeah, it’s…. it’s been a strange day.”

You bury yourself deeper into Calum’s chest and he holds you tighter, propping the rest of his body up on the couch with yours and wrapping himself around you like a blanket.

You feel safe, secure in his arms.

It must’ve been nothing but a bad dream.


of course it is happening in your head
but why on earth should that mean it is not real?


It’s nothing, really.

Things haven’t been quite – right – since the night you woke up in Calum’s arms, bathing in his reassurances.

It was just the shivers you couldn’t help. It was just the need to look over your shoulder every few minutes. It was just the startled jumps at every small noise, the jittery shock whenever someone called your name.

It’s nothing, truly.

It was just a bad dream – a nightmare – whose darkness cloaked you for a little longer than usual, whose details refused to fade, whose memory haunted you.

No. No. It wasn’t a memory. It was a dream. You saw it, but in your head.

You saw it, but it wasn’t real.

But isn’t seeing believing?

It wasn’t a memory because it never happened; it was just your overactive imagination mixed with your faint spikes of anxiety brewed together with a dash of fear.

It was just you being silly, being stupid; just you.

But something in the back of your head tells you otherwise.

Because it’s not just you, it’s not just you.

It’s him.

You tell yourself not to be so stupid, not to read into things, but –

His eyes are a shade too dark when they look at you while he thinks you’re looking away. His smile is just a smidge too pointed, a flash of teeth that lasts just a millisecond too long. His voice has this – this echo that surrounds your name, something in the way he says it leaving a different type of shivers running up your spine.

It’s how his grip is just a little too tight to be just protective, how he stares for a moment too long, and not in the way he used to.

There’s something off about Calum; the hints of steel underneath his easygoing laughter, the sharp glints in his eyes that you can’t read, disappearing too quickly for you to decipher.

And you want to tell yourself that you’re just being too paranoid; that this was Calum and this was the boy you love, the only boy you’re certain you’ll ever love.

But lately – lately, you’ve been more unsettled than anything. Uneasy. Restless.

And you can’t help but to feel the fear that you felt in your memory.

No, your dream.

It was just a dream.


I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead
I think I made you up in my head


Something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong – with him, with you – you don’t know what and you don’t know if anything’s really wrong but you’re certain that things aren’t right.

It’s like an itch you can scratch, a blind spot in your vision. It was something small, something nagging the back of your head, but it echoes throughout your head until it’s the only thing that you can think about, consuming your mind.

This isn’t right.

It’s a multitude of small things; looking in the mirror or closing your windows, walking from place to place or returning home at night.

Lying in Calum’s arms and feeling restless. Hearing his voice and getting anxious. Seeing his smile and feeling slivers of fear.

And it’s not supposed to be like this, it was never supposed to be like this this isn’t love this isn’t love and it hurts to admit it but it isn’t.

But while it hurts to admit what you have with Calum isn’t love, it scares you to think about what you do have with him.

This was more than just a falling-out-of-love scenario; not some ‘we-just-grew-apart’ or ‘you-aren’t-right-for-me’.

Because heartbreak wasn’t supposed to leave your bones vibrating in the hollows of your body; that wasn’t the feeling you were supposed to get when you come to the dull realization that you simply aren’t in love with the person you once swore you’d love for a lifetime.

No, that kind of feeling comes with fear.

And you can’t help but to feel it everywhere, to have it lingering over your head and embedded into your skull.

It wasn’t normal to be scared at nothing.

Nothing’s wrong.

But nothing’s right.


curiosity killed the cat
how many lives can you spare, my dear?


You’ve been watching him too.

You’re looking for something to call him out for – a reason to say he’s not the same person, that he’s changed and that you can’t love who he’s become – cheesy lines like that to let him go, to let you free – but there’s nothing and he’s still Calum and there’s nothing.

It must be you. It must be you.

Something’s wrong with me.

But then you call up one of his friends to ask if they could remind him to pick up something for you after stopping by their house but his friend tells you with a confused voice that Calum told him he was going to be spending the evening with you.

And you hang up, puzzled – Calum wasn’t one to lie to you, but you haven’t been able to tell underneath his pointed grin and your boggled mind.

You know following him is hardly the right thing to do, but lately nothing’s been right and you were desperate to find something – anything that’ll put your mind at ease about this boy that you claimed to love.

You half-wish to catch him with another girl, just so you could dismiss the paranoia in your stomach as a cheating relationship and jealousy and hurt; that your fear was nothing but a pretty girl that caught his eye.

You kept a good pace behind Calum as he weaved through the town, moving farther and farther away from the city until he was out in the fields; nothing for you to duck under should he sense another presence behind him.

But he doesn’t turn around and you keep your distance while you keep your eye on him.

And he leads you through twists and turns that you were all too familiar with until –

He stops in front of the house.

The haunted house, with its peeling white paint and cracked wooden panels; its creaky half-opened doors and overgrown weeds.

And it’s just like how you remembered.

But it’s just a dre –

Everything down to the last detail despite the fact that Calum told you countless times that you never went to the haunted house with him; that you stayed in and watched movies all night.

How much has he been lying to you about?

You’re asking the wrong questions.

Why is he lying?

What are you hiding?

Calum steps inside the decaying house and your heart almost skips a beat because you remember how the last time you saw him step in, you couldn’t remember stepping out again.

The fear starts to spike your systems in erratic pulses now, and you can’t help but to notice how your knees are trembling, your fingers shaking.

You count to a hundred before stepping in after him.

And everything screams no because they could be just stupid legends about a haunted house but you remember the fear – you remembered it, not dreamed it – and you remember calling out to Calum and you need to know what happened to you, to him.

There’s something wrong with you, with him.

And you had to find out or else you’ll go crazy and he’ll –

And that’s just it. You don’t know what he’ll do. You don’t know anything about Calum at this point besides the unsettling feeling of knowing that whatever it is, it isn’t right.

You step inside, and it’s exactly as you remembered.

It’s an uneasy, queasy feeling of deja-vu, of the echos of your consciousness knowing you’ve been there despite the unfamiliarity in your body.

You want to run out, but you’re not leaving Calum for the second time.

You still had to figure out what the hell happened the first time.

You follow the footsteps in the dusty floor dotted by the dark droplets of water – he’d just washed his hair, you remember – finding yourself staring at the back door of the house, open just an inch as if challenging you to step through it.

You open the door before you completely lose what little courage you had left, and you’re greeted with the sight of overgrown weeds taller than you spiralling out of control on both sides; nothing but a faded dirt path half-hidden in between.

A quick scan of the end of the waving path shows you a rickety shed; a small wooden figure that looks seconds away from collapsing.

You’ve watched enough horror movies to know that going in there was a stupid idea, and that if this was a movie people would be telling you to run; the idiot girl who deserved to die by walking into a supposed haunted house by herself at dusk.


You call out tentatively, afraid of the response. Afraid of the silence.

But then you hear something.

It’s your name.


But it’s your name in his voice and it’s right, my god, it’s the only that’s been right ever since that night a few weeks ago.

It’s not the strange, echoing timbre that Calum’s adopted ever since you woke up; it’s the familiar lilt and dip of your name that you used to hear just before you fell asleep followed by an I love you.

It’s right.

It’s him.

And you’re running on the dirt path and the sound of your name gets louder and you’re running to him, you’re running to Calum, you’re running home, not caring that it was a rickety old shed that hardly looked welcoming.

But you dash up to the door and you turn it –

It’s locked.

And you know he’s there, he’s inside and you’ve been searching for him for so, so long.

You’ve found him.

You’re so close.

You see the rusted glimmers of silver in the cracks of the stair floorboard and you pry out a small, old-fashioned ringed key and you’re jamming it into the lock, flinging the door open.

It’s him.


But it’s not the Calum you saw earlier today, not the Calum you were following through town with his carefully tousled hair and worn leather jacket.

No, this Calum looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks; noticeably large purple circles underneath his eyes; hollowed cheeks that were too sharp to be healthy; chapped lips that haven’t seen water in days.

But his brown eyes are the same earthy tones as the ones you used to get lost in, and they widen in shock and disbelief when they see you, mirroring your own surprised reaction.

He opens his parched mouth, and says the last thing you’d expect to hear.



are you afraid of the dark for what it hides?
or do you fear the light for what it shows?


“Calum? What’s going on? Wh-what happened to you? Calum?”

The confusion and hysteria is evident in your voice at seeing your boyfriend trapped inside a shed in the backyard of a haunted house when he kissed you goodbye a mere hour ago.

Run, I said. Go! Please…”

His plea comes out as a dry, cracked sob; not enough water for tears, barely enough for words.

You make a move to go nearer, but he shrinks away like a fearful animal, flinching at your steps.

“Calum, please tell me what’s going on. I s-saw you come in but you’re locked in here and nothing’s been right please I don’t understand – “

“You need to go. You need to go. Now. You need to go before it’s too late please I can’t let anything happen to you please just go just leave –“

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Don’t be stupid, you have to go you have to please I’m begging you I’m begging you to leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

He’s curled up on the ground, a small, too-thin figure whose whispers of run and please were lifelines he clung onto.

He stares up at you with large, haunted eyes, the black circles accenting his gaunt face and the whiteness of his skin; the wideness of his pupils.

“It’s coming back. It’ll be here any minute please you need to go before it does you can’t be here when it comes back please just run get away from me get away – “

What’s coming, Calum? What the hell is going on?

He tries to push you away but he’s too weak and your legs are too shaken; you’re too unnerved at the sight of your violently trembling boyfriend who once bragged about protecting you from anything, now so fragile, so broken.

The door behind you slams shut, enveloping the two of you in darkness, save for the small window that spilled weak beams of moonlight.

“It’s here. It’s here. I told you to run I told you to get away it’s too late it’s too late I’m sorry I’m sorry please please don’t hurt her please don’t hurt her – please… please.

Calum’s fearful whimpers are too much; the pure terror in his voice plunging you straight into the depths of fear itself.

And his sudden screams tear through the shack, gut-wrenching and bloodcurdling; the sound of terror and pain slicing into your system.

You automatically fall back on your feet, panic about to explode from your chest and fear leaking from every pore of your body, frantically scrabbling at the door – it’s locked it’s locked no no – while Calum’s screams get louder.

You can’t see a thing; you can’t see Calum somewhere on the other end of the tiny shack and you didn’t see anything come in or anything go out but it’s as if he’s being torn in half from the inside out and the sound scrapes the very core of your being, hearing him in this agonizing pain and you can’t help and you want it to stop make it stop.

And it does, abruptly, as sudden as a red gash across a throat.

You can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest at an unsteadily crazy rhythm and you can feel the sweat beading your hair and on your hands and you can feel the sick, twisted fear wrapped itself around you until you suffocated.

You’re afraid to call out but Calum, oh god –

He steps into the thin stream of moonlight.

And it’s the Calum you saw an hour before; the Calum with the muscled arms and sculpted jawline and messy hair; no sunken cheeks or frail limbs, no ringed circles or smudged skin.

But this is the Calum that set your nerves in a frenzy, the Calum that brought an air of unease ever since you woke up again.

This was the wrong Calum.

And you see how his eyes are a pure white instead of the warm brown; nothing but an almost-transparent white with a thin ringed circle and a small black dot in the middle.

You don’t know who this is; what this is that wears your Calum’s face so well, but like a mask that didn’t fit quite right.

He advances towards you with slow, steady steps and you automatically scuttle back before you hit the corner of the shack, shrinking down as much as you could to avoid him.

But it’s no use; you can’t run and you can’t hide and this – this thing with the white eyes on Calum’s face was leering down at you, the cruel, twisted features on Calum’s face so out of place.

“I can see why he wanted to keep you.”

His voice is half an octave too deep; the words too smooth as they leave his lips, the echoes slipping out of the syllables with an uncomfortable fluidity that drowns the room in his voice.

“Such a pretty little thing.”

He reaches out to touch your cheek and you instinctively flinch, having nowhere else to shrink away to.

His white eyes and dotted pupil are staring straight at you, like a snake ready to poison you, like a knife that’s about to be plunged into your heart.

He lets out a soft tut-tut underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowing with mild regret.

“What a shame that I couldn’t keep you for a little bit longer.”

This isn’t a dream this isn’t a dream this isn’t a dream oh god please why isn’t this a dream

He flashes his razor-sharp teeth at you; the pointed ends as sharp as blades and stained with a sticky red.

“This will only hurt a little bit.”

You scream, but no one hears.


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In provincial Congress, WaterTown April 26th 1775.  
To the Inhabitants of Great Britain.
Friends & Fellow Subjects,

Hostilities are at length commenced in this Colony by the Troops under Command of General Gage, & It being of the greatest Importance, that an early, true, & authentic account of this inhuman proceeding Should be known to you…

Nevertheless to the perfection of Tyranny of this cruel ministry we will not tamely submit. Appealing to Heaven for the justice of our cause, we determine to die or be free…


Address from Joseph Warren to the Inhabitants of Great Britain Regarding the Hostilities of April 19, 1775, 4/26/1775.

Dr. Joseph Warren succeeded John Hancock as president of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress when Hancock went to Philadelphia to preside over the Continental Congress. The fall and winter of 1774 and spring of 1775 were a time of increasing outrages and hostilities. After the violent incidents in Lexington, Concord, and Menotomy (Arlington), Dr. Warren would order that eyewitness accounts be gathered and sent to Britain to garner popular support. In this written address, Dr. Warren reports that “Hostilities are at length commenced…We determine to die or be free…

Dr. Warren, an activist, intellectual, and patriot, would die at the Battle of Bunker Hill just two months later in June 1775.  Abigail Adams would mourn the death of this great man and family friend in a letter to her husband; a British report from Boston would proclaim that his death was better than that of 500 soldiers.  (via the U.S. National Archives at Boston)

This and other accounts of the battles at Lexington and Concord are available and transcribed in the National Archives Catalog.

More eyewitness accounts from the 240th Anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord.

Younger Part Two - Luke Hemmings Oneshot

Pairing: Luke/Reader

Word Count: 1800+

Requested: Yes

A/N: Finally!! Part two!! It’s 5am and I’m so tired but I knew i was almost done so here it is!! Feedback is always appreciated!

Part One Here

“Your parents are still downstairs.” Luke whispered breathlessly against my neck, sounding wary. “But, they don’t know that you’re here,” I countered, pulling his waist back down between my legs, “So touch me.”

He shook his head at me, smiling, but still leaned forward to catch my bottom lip in his teeth. “What’s the magic word, Y/N?” He taunted, tugging at my lip. “Hm, please, Luke?” Uttering a small affirming noise, he kissed his way down my jawline, to my neck, hands wandering down to grasp my thighs on either side of him. “Love you, Y/N.” Luke moans as he starts stirring his hips against me.

“Shh, we have to keep it down this time.” I warn, running a hand through his hair, the other pulling at his t-shirt. “Wait, just, hold on a minute,” Luke gulped, putting in effort to slow his movements.

“Not yet, babe-” A series of shapr knocks against my door stole our attention from one another, “Dinner time Y/N, let’s go!” Dad’s voice bellowed as Luke jumped up from the bed, fumbling with his jeans.

“Be right there!” I called back out in a panic, hoping he wouldn’t try opening the locked door. Luke and I bothe held our breath, exhaling when we heard his footsteps thumping down the stairs.

“Wouldn’t that have been fun?” I mumbled, hastily sliding my panties back up my legs. “Yeah, your dad walking in on us with my hands up your skirt.” He griped, walking over to open the bedroom window.

“Do you think you can handle yourself over there?” I arched an eyebrow, glancing downwards. “Well, I mean you can definately do a better job than me. We’ll just have to make this up later.” He quipped hanging halfway out the window. “Let me know how it goes.” I told him, knowing he’d take me seriously. “Maybe I’ll send you a before and after,” He leaned down for a kiss, teasing, “I love you.”

“Careful, love you too.” I said softly, watching him struggle his way down the tree outside.

Once I saw that he reached the ground without injury, I shut the window and followed the noise of conversation downstairs to the kitchen.

My phone buzzed in my hand almost as soon as I took a seat at the table. When I opened an expected picture message from Luke, Mom asked from the seat across, “Why don’t you just ask Luke to stay for dinner next time?”
“Hey, you make me happy.” I thought out loud, staring at Luke, sitting in his car before school started, “Like the most perfect kind of happy. When you lay in bed thinking how it’s possible to be so happy.”

Luke just laughed listening to my rambling, “Say happy again.” He mocked, right as the warning bell sounded out.

“Time for class, let’s move it.” I groaned, moving to get out of the car before Luke could start his protests.

“Or we could just not go to class and go anywhere else in the world. Anywhere else is an improvement from here.” Not that I took that much interest in Luke’s opinions on school, but he did know how to argure them.

“This is our last year, you might wanna go to a class sometime for nostalgia’s sake.” I stated, waiting for him to stop grumbling and join me in walking.

“Also, my parents have extended a dinner invitation for the next time you try climbing out my window.” I added when he caught up.

He grimaced at first, then switched to a joking manner, “Does that mean I can start using the door now? We both know I’m not an athletic person, Y/N, and I don’t land gracefully often.” He tried making light of the situation.

“We could stick to the window, and save ourselves from my parents style of parenting. "Luke, pass the salt? Also, are you sexually active with my daughter?” Neither of us are prepared for that.“

He thought on it for a second, then agreed,” Yeah, I see that. We’ll try my place after school then. On an unrelated note, I am getting better at landing.“ Luke threw an arm over my shoulders, bringing me closer into his side as we continued walking.
Later, we were rolling around Luke’s bed, exactly like when were kids.

"Y'know, I heard someone the other day say that we hardly hang out with other people anymore?” Luke spoke up with a gravelly voice. “You’re the only friend I need.” I mumbled, still half asleep.

Chuckling and wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me closer, “Aw, am I all you need?” He asked mockingly. I shrugged his off, scoffing at his cute answer.

“I’ve gotta get home, I have work to do.” I groaned, convincing myself to get out of bed. “Just lay with me five more minutes?” Luke tightened his grip on me, “Really, I’m wasting time.” “It’s not wasted time when I’m with you.”

I could already feel my brain starting to think a mile a minute going through my to-do list. “Adorable, but not enough.” I wriggled out of his arms to start looking for my shoes in the mess of his room. “I have to finish that internship application by next week’s deadline if I genuinely want it-”

“Which you do.” Luke encouraged.

“Of course, and actually start the essay part.” Letting out a long sigh, I thought that I just needed a few more hours in the day, six or seven. “Maybe our friends are right, we do spend all of our time together.” I voiced my realization.

“What, it’s a bad thing? I’m not a terrible influence.” He playfully argued. “Yes, my boyfriend who’s considering dropping out of school to tour with his band is the greatest influence in my life.” I mocked. I know they couldn’t possibly turn the offer down; but he’d be gone for eight months, leaving in the next two.

“I’m still going as of now, I’m just not concerned with finishing school before tour starts.” He corrected, “And that’s where you are all day.” Luke admit, sounding content with the aspects of our relationship.

“But see, that’s what I mean. I’ll constantly plan my whole day around you. These next couple months are important for the future. You’ve got yours planned out already, I need to be more focused if I’m gonna get anywhere.” Now I’ve got Luke’s full attention, getting that I was serious.

“What…exactly are you saying?” I wasn’t suggesting anything specific. Just trying to come to a point of understanding that we could have seperate things away from each other. “I’m not asking for much, just trying to be fair. To everyone.” I attempted to assure him, and apparently failing.

“What do you mean?” He asked with troubled eyes and forrowed brow. “Maybe,” I paused, inhaling, “Maybe it’s just too much. Sometimes it all gets a little too much.”

“Even us? Are you breaking up with me now?” No way he’s listening to what I’m saying if he’s jupming to that conclusion. I thought we could’ve been able to talk without the accusations or pushing blame on the other.

“No! No, Luke I don’t mean it like that. God, I love you but don’t you ever feel like we spend so much of our time together? I can think of at least seven things off the top of my head that I’ve put off to just lay around with you. I don’t mean it as anything bad, but…”

An uncertain silence fell. I didn’t know what else to say. I made my point, even if I didn’t completly understand it, I knew what I wanted. Luke looked like he didn’t either- he looked like he was still connecting pieces of the conversation in his head.

“I feel like,” He started slowly, almost testing the words in his mouth, “I don’t have any say, and I don’t want the same thing as you do.”

“I don’t exactly want us to be over, but I think we need some kind of break. To just not be ‘us’ for a little while. I didn’t realize how dependent we are.” I confessed to him.

“If this is what it takes, right? And now you won’t need to wait around for me or pretend I’m not holding you back.” Luke complained, as I grew frustrated. “Well we don’t have to do this now, neither of us are laving for months.”

“No, you can’t bring this up then try and take it back. If you’ve got to get rid of me before you can get your shit together then this is a great time to talk.”

“Fine, I know you’re angry. But I don’t want to sit and fight with you, so I’m gonna go. We can talk tomorrow or next week but not like this.” He needed a clear head and I needed a clear consience. We just needed to be calm.

“Wait, just wait a minute.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and so obviously trying not to look at me. “Kiss me. One more time, kiss me. Then you can tell me if you don’t want to do this anymore.” He pleaded.

“That’s not what this is about Luke.” I began when he cut in again.

“One kiss. It could be all it takes.” He pulled me up to stand with him. Resting his forehead against mine and snaking his arms around me as close as we could get, He touched his lips to mine softly. His hands found their familiar place on my sides as I allow my mouth to work against his. When his tongue lightly traces my bottom lip, I can sense myself going under. Almost forgetting why we were fighting, getting lost in his touch.

I pulled away from him, taking small steps away from him and not lifting my eyes to his. “Y/N?” Not even when I turned around into the hallway and I knew he was watching.

“I have to go home, Luke.” There was nothing else I could do to stress my reasons any further. I’m so tired and all I want to do is be alone and not think for a moment.

I walked back through his house, where I spent almost as much pf my childhood than my own home. I used to feel comfortable in this place, now it feels wrong. I don’t have a place here anymore.

I think I’m going to be sick for a second while I’m walking out the front door. Guilt and stress and regret swimming inside of me, ten times more stress than I felt earlier this afternoon.

All I can do is go through the motions, wearliy trying to make it inside my own front door.


A tacky barista with a tacky sign in front of his store. Really, how could anyone fall for that? Really, how could anyone resist that?

7/10 of the 1k follower series
Pairing: Takao x Reader (gender-neutral)
Rating: K
Word Count: 1005
—inspired by this post

              for kurobasuimagine who is possibly the sweetest thang

Your Barista for the Day:
1. Super awesome and fun <3
2. Single ready to mingle (*>◡ó*)  
3. Makes the best coffee in the morning ;)

Recommended: Giving him your number

You stared at the tacky sign posted up in front of the store. How in the world could someone ever write something that weird? And why in the world would anyone fall for something like—

“Ne, ___, let’s go here!” Your friend grinned with twinkling eyes after she noticed the signboard. Never mind. You reluctantly followed her in and she instantly bounded over to the counter. Your friend was peppy and always so happy and you wondered how you were always with her sometimes. She instantly started flirting with the admittedly cute barista.

He had messy black hair with soft blue eyes. Wow, that was one hell of a combination. Funnily enough, he first greeted your friend with the goofiest of looks before putting on the charm and man, his charm game was strong. He gave her his most seductive look and the sexiest of smirks. You might’ve felt your heart beat loudly with his changes. Nope, don’t do it. Don’t fall for him.

Your friend already seemed interested in him enough anyway. His name was Takao apparently and he was the main barista at that specific café. When his eyes moved to you, you saw a twinkle of excitement and you frowned. “And what can I get you both today?”

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If it wasn’t for this little guy existing, none of my other characters or the expansive world i’m working on would’ve existed either. I’m very thankful for all you’ve done for me, Mordy, and as a thanks i’m gonna try to get more to like you. It’s not the easiest task in the world, but i’ll still try my best ~