that smile lad

capitaine-odette  asked:

CS + mutual pining

This is my kryptonite! My brain immediately went to S3 so enjoy some canon divergence where they defeated Zelena but there was no time portal.  

T | 1.2k 


It had been a month and a half since Emma had left Storybrooke to return to her life in New York City with Henry, a month and a half of trying to get their life back to normal after the return of their memories and the defeat of the Wicked Witch of the West, a month and a half of no magic or fairytale characters–except for her parents who she called or texted regularly and two visits from the Evil Queen herself.

Regina’s third visit was scheduled for this weekend and though she usually swept Henry off to some fancy hotel for a few nights Emma wasn’t really in the mood for her sharp looks or pointed questions about life in the city. Emma wasn’t stupid and knew that the only reason Regina had agreed to let her take Henry back to New York was because she assumed they wouldn’t be staying there for long, an idea her parents had no doubt encouraged. They all seemed to think Emma was some unruly teenager and her return to New York was just a phase instead of a thought out and conscious decision made by a rational adult who didn’t want her son burned alive or captured by flying monkeys.

It was a little after five when the knock came and Emma took a fortifying breath before opening the door.

“Hook?”

“Swan!” The pirate beamed, his entire face lighting up at the sight of her, and her heart dropped down to her stomach. It had been a month and a half since she had seen him, all black leather, eyeliner, and dancing eyes; she wasn’t prepared for how good it felt. He had come after her and she knew that she should be angry, because she had explicitly told him not to follow her, but seeing him at her door all she felt was the rush of her blood and an overwhelming urge to smile. She fought the urge and forced her mouth into a thin line. His smile lost most of its brightness and his eyes flicked past her.

“Is the lad ready?” He asked in an almost formal tone.

“Henry? Why would you–?

“Regina didn’t–?“

As if on cue Emma’s phone went off and a big red apple filled the screen. With a huff, she answered.

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youtube

Hey guys! Check out this dup made by @ghoster-va ! IMO THEY NAILED THE VOICES OF MCCREE AND HANZO!!

things i’ve learnt from that episode of holby:

  • i could probs listen to bernie doing david attenborough impressions all day
  • i could probs watch bernie sitting back + just winging things + having bantz on aau all day
  • i love darla, 10/10, i’m a fan
  • i’m constantly genuinely surprised by how many ppl there r hanging around on darwin
  • every time sacha cries i also cry apparently
  • i’m here 4 the hoodies + tea intervention @ pulses
  • i love morven so much (the yellow sleeves/blue scrubs was gr8)
  • i’m actually lookin forward 2 ollie being on aau
  • jac + matteo continue 2 be a Mess
  • that old guy didn’t let me down bc he took the perfect opportunity 2 make a doctor who joke
  • 4ever a fan of hanssen looming
‘’Let’s run away.’’ Pt 3

A/N: This is the third continue and final chapter of, ‘’Let’s run away.’’, Hope you guys like it!! Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes

Pairings: Jughead X Reader

Prompt: With connections being rebuilt, there is still some uncertainty in the air. Will Jug be able to fully let you in again? 

Warnings: Swearing, some fighting

Word count: 2242

Part 1 / Part 2

Originally posted by alwayschach-sprouseblog

‘’Where are you going?’’ A question whispered, with hesitation, into the still air of Archie’s bedroom. The question he wished he’d have had the chance to ask back then, a question he never hoped to ask again. As the girl before him turned to meet his questioning glare, her hair falling loose from behind her ear and framing her face as she contemplated her answer. 

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anonymous asked:

omg i forgot about paperboy please continue it!!!!

you ain’t the only one, anon. but ask and you shall receive! 😘

catch up on the first part here!


paperboy: part two

december 27th, 1982

Ian woke up the morning of December 27th around 4:45 AM, feeling rather warm–but not hotter than usual.

5:00 AM: He stepped into the shower, quickly rubbed a bar of soap over his body before shampooing his hair and jumping right back out again.

5:15 AM: After changing into his clothes, he ran down the staircase, brushing his teeth. He reached for a banana on the counter.

5:18 AM: His uncle rounded the corner from the study, looking intently at his nephew as he attempted to brush his teeth and eat at the same time.

“What in God’s name are ye doing, man?” He implored of his nephew, setting his newspaper down on the counter and leaning against it, eyebrows raised.

Ian looked from his toothbrush in one hand to the banana in the other, thinking of a proper way of explaining himself. He shrugged slightly, with a sheepish grin on his face. “Killin’ two birds with one stone?”

Jamie shook his head, a smile gracing his lips.

5:23 AM: Ian bid farewell to his uncle, and went to head out the door. Jamie stopped him, however, as soon as he hit the doorframe.

“Ian, the back of yer shirt is drenched.”

“Well,” Ian replied, “I did take a shower, Uncle.”

“I ken that, ye dolt. I mean that ye’re sweating, wi’ it bein’ freezing outside.” Jamie shook his head, then gestured his hand towards himself. “Come ‘ere, then.”

Ian, rolling his eyes slightly, and, shoulders slouched, walked towards his uncle. Jamie put the back of his hand against his nephew’s forehead, pursed his lips tightly before instructing the young lad to cough.

The boy did as he was bid, and a bunch of mucus seemed to jump from his lungs to his throat. The sound was thick and disgusting, and Jamie rose his eyebrows at his nephew.

“Looks like ye’re not going to work today,  after all,” Jamie smiled, then pushed his nephew lightly on the shoulder towards the staircase. “Back to bed wi’ ye. Make sure you tell yer mother I told you to stay here.”

“Alright,” Ian agreed. He took a step forward but then turned back to his uncle, eyes wide. “What about Geordie?”

“Dinna worry about that, lad,” Jamie smiled. “I’ll take care o’ yer route for you.”

Nodding, Ian turned back to the staircase and took them two at a time, a wide smile on his lips as he went back to his room. Little did his uncle know that Ian was not sick, and just had taken a very hot shower.

And thank God for allergies, he thought to himself as he curled up in his bed, ecstatic at the idea of being able to sleep in.




Despite several attempts to get himself on his nephew’s bike, Jamie instead opted to drive his truck around the suburban neighborhoods of Boone, throwing the papers out the window as he passed. He was able to finish the route in just under an hour, which was much different than poor Ian Murray Jr.’s two-and-a-half-hour biking escapade.

When he pulled into the small subdivision of Simon’s Landing, his heart started to pound. Not from nerves–of course not from nerves–but just from the sheer knowledge of her presence.

He had tried, multiple times, to pick up the phone book and search for her phone number, skimming the yellow pages for Beauchamp, C. And amongst the Lambert’s and John’s and Harrison’s, his finger had hit that inked letter C–with the eight digits following–and he would slam the book closed. Both of the Ian’s had chastised him multiple times over the matter, and even his sister joined in the proceedings once or twice.

“Ask her on a date, ye clotheid,” she frustratedly muttered to her brother over breakfast one morning. “If you dinna want to do it, then I will do it for ye.”

The opportunity had presented itself to him this morning with Ian’s sickness. Whether this was a sign from God or not, he didn’t know. But he took it graciously, and asked Him not to let him screw this up.

With his nerves clogging up his throat, to the point he was almost suffocating, he walked up the few steps to her porch and approached her door. He rang the doorbell once and heard the shrill ring of it echo through the house. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he shoved his hands in his pockets, the newspaper squeezed between his arm and his side.

Every second that passed seemed like years. Each new breath that he exhaled came out in faster waves as his heartbeat increased, the cold morning air causing them to form into mist in front of him. Getting slightly impatient–and worried that she wasn’t inside–he looked through one of the front windows of her porch in search of her.

As soon as he did this, however, the door swung open and there she was.

“Good morning, Mr. Fraser,” she greeted, a warm smile on her face as she pulled her cardigan closer to her body against the brisk morning chill. She looked from his face to the newspaper in his arm and nodded at it. “Is that for me?”

Flustered, he fumbled with the paper in his hands and thrust it forward, unattractively and clumsily, at her face. “Aye, I–uh–yes, this is yours.”

The smile on her face grew ever wider, showing all of her beautiful white teeth. She stepped to the side and opened the door just a tad wider, inviting him to come inside. Still discomfited, he nodded once and came inside, allowing the warmth to envelope him in a blanket of comfort.

“Would you like some coffee? I just made a pot,” she inquired, gesturing to the kitchen where the coffee pot sat in his view. Shaking his head, but thanking her nonetheless, he watched her walk out of the entryway and into the brightly colored room. A moment passed before she turned towards him, a sheepish smile on her lips as she filled up a mug. “You can come in here, you know.”

He took a step, then realized that his boots were wet from the snow outside. Grimacing, he called to her as he went to place his shoes outside, “I’ll take my shoes off outside, so as to not ruin your floors.”

She waved a hand in dismissal, but he didn’t see it. He popped off his boots in front of the door and stepped back inside in his woolen socks.

“So, where’s your nephew this morning?” Claire asked as he stepped into the kitchen, eyebrows raised as she took a sip of her coffee. He committed her drink of choice to memory: Black, no sugar, no creamer.

“He’s at home sick. He woke up wi’ a fever this morning.”

A concerned look crossed over her face as she set down her cup and crossed her arms over her chest. “What were his other symptoms?”

Jamie shrugged, “I’m no’ one to ken exactly what to look for when someone is sick, but he was sweatin’ a lot; his whole shirt was soaked through. His head was hot to the touch and when I asked him to cough, ‘twas the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard.”

Her fingers tapped on her arm in thought before she asked, “Had he taken a shower this morning?”

“Aye,” He replied, eyebrows shrunk together in confusion as she chuckled lightly. “Why?”

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. The look that she was giving him made him nervous, which caused him to voice a nervous, “What?”

“Well…” She tried to suppress laughter as she took another sip of her coffee. “I do believe that you have been played a fool.”

Jamie, flabbergasted, left out a huff of agitation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Since I haven’t seen him, I can’t say that I’m entirely right, but I do believe that he has nothing more than a small case of allergies.”

Getting rather annoyed, he crossed his arms and stared at her crossly. “And how do you know that, just from the wee bit of information that I’ve shared wi’ ye?”

She was trying so hard to keep her smile contained from behind the rim of her coffee cup. “Because I’m a pediatrician, Mr. Fraser. It’s my job.”

If he thought he was embarrassed before, he was downright mortified. His face flushed and words seemed to die in his throat; not a single one of the apologies he could think of were enough to excuse his error. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to kneel at her feet and beg for mercy.

As much as he thought she was mad at him, though, he could see that it was much the opposite. She seemed amused at his tongue-tied state, Damn her, and the smirk on her lips proved it.

Scrambling to find a way to make it up to her, he stammered out, “Can I take ye to dinner?”

A cringe formed on his face as he watched her eyes widen then return to their normal size, but the smile didn’t leave her face. Before she could answer, he went to explain himself, the words spilling out of his mouth in a long stream of word vomit. “I mean, not that I like ye more now that I know that ye’re a doctor. My opinion has really been the same since I first met ye, it’s just that–”

“I would love to go to dinner,” she interrupted, setting her coffee mug down on the counter. She turned from his shocked face to her refrigerator, where a small calendar rested to mark her schedule. He watched as she pulled a marker from the holder and went to find a day she had off, her slender finger pointing to the 31st. “What are your plans for New Year’s Eve, Mr. Fraser?”

Shifting from foot to foot, he shrugged. “Nothin’ much, I dinna think. I don’t start workin’ again until the New Year.”

“I work in the morning, but maybe we can do something that night,” she started to write his name down as Mr. Fraser but stopped short. She turned sheepishly to him and murmured, “I suppose since we know each other well enough now, we could know each other by our first names, right, Jamie?”

Jamie nodded with a smile, savoring the sound of his name on her lips. “I suppose so, Claire.”

insomnianoctem  asked:

Congratulations on 600! ^_^ Would Casshern from the 2008 Casshern Sins be alright? For the art request thing? Please and thank you!

so yeah I’ve never seen this show but I tested out an episode. It seems like a sort of dark side Astro Boy but what do I know haha. This boy looks so sad and alone don’t hurt him.

Huntress- Part 17: Power

Sam x Daughter!Reader, takes place in S12 E17 so warning: SPOILERS

Part one
Part two
Part three
Part four
Part five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
Part Fifteen
Part Sixteen


Dragging yourself down the steps of the bunker you tried your best to ignore your Uncle and Dad’s worried stares. Thankfully, they didn’t have time to question anything. Your head was bearing sharp pains, making you feel ten times worse. But, again, you said nothing.
“How did you get here?” Dad’s defensive statement caused you to glance up form your feet. There was Mick. He had a glass of whiskey and was sat comfortably at the table. Her smiled “Alright lads…you know, this is our building. It’s men of letters.”
“It’s creepy.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.
“That key of yours opens up the door to every Men Of Letters bunker there is.” 
“What do you want?” 
“It’s urgent, so here me out. A few weeks back our lab picked up some sort of cosmic energy-”
“A nephilum.” Dad nodded, the three of you were well aware.
“You knew?” Mick looked offended, like some sort of trust between you had broken. You didn’t remember making something to be broken in the first place.
“We had her.” Uncle Dean admitted.
Had?” 
“She got away.”
“You let her get away!” Mick was in shock. 
“She wanted to get rid of the baby too. We didn’t think she was just going to up and run like that. Besides, while you lot were off sipping tea they were locked up!” You snapped at him.

Everyone hesitated and fell silent. You glared at him before saying “I’m going to bed. Don’t try to wake me up.” 

You trudged away from them, feeling their confused stares on your back. Making your way to your bedroom, you closed the door and sunk to the floor. Your head was now throbbing.

You clutched it, trying not to hit it against something in some sort of desperate attempt to stop it. Flashes of the one before Claire, the experiment, appeared in your mind. You hissed in pain. This wasn’t normal. This can’t have been-

A surge of agony broke you from the thought, making you curl into a ball, shaking lightly from the never ending pain. Your hands clenched into fists. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.
Why didn’t she survive it? Why didn’t she survive? 
You were angry and desperately trying to keep yourself calm. Each breath was harder than the last. Your grip tightened around your hands as you pictured her screams and cries for help.
Anger was swarming inside your mind and everything changed to shapes. Reds and oranges took over as the vibrant hues danced in your vision. The rage was reaching it’s peak, a breakdon was rising up rapidly as your felt your hands shake in attempt to free themselves from their own grip. Your heartbeat throbbed loudly in your mind, muffling out any other sounds.

Then you broke.

At first you heard nothing, but a deafening white noise as it pierced your ears. Then a smash.  
Everything fell dark as shards of glass scattered about the floor. Some sliced through your own skin, but you didn’t even flinch. You shouted and cried, burying your head in your hands, bringing your knees to your chest. You coughed- your head now ready to explode.
A harsh cough escaped your throat, sending acid and bile up with it, it seeped through the edges of your mouth, making you choke on the bitter foam.
Then, you felt nothing.


“Anyone seen, Y/N?” Mick asked, walking in on two slightly hung-over and very tired Winchester brothers.
“She told us not to wake her and judging from the way she was I’m keen to obey.” Dean explained, taking a sip of water.
“Alright. I just thought I outta say sorry. She wasn’t wrong, to be fair.” Mick admitted.
“If she’s up she’ll be in her room. Knock and wait.” Dad ordered, making sure an angry teenager wasn’t added to the list of problems.
“Alright, cheers.”

When Mick reached Y/N’s room he knocked on the door and waited for almost a full minute before sighing. “Here goes nothing.” He mumbled, turning the door handle. Only, when he opened the door he saw something he wasn’t expecting. “Y/N?” Mick asked hesitantly, hurrying over to where her unconscious body was. She was on her side, eyes closed, breathing even. If it weren’t for the cuts along her body from the broken light bulb, it would have looked like she was sleeping peacefully. “Sam!” Mick called in a panic.
Running footsteps sounded as Sam sprinted towards Y/N’s room. When he arrived he nearly stepped back at the sight of it.

His daughter was lying in the middle of what looked more like a bomb-site than a bedroom. Shards of glass were plastered across the floor, a few pieces sticking into her bare arms and some on her face, both orbited by specks of dried blood. “Y/N!…Sweetheart?” Sam knelt down next to her, his eyes glistening with tears “Can you hear me?”

Please.” Sam begged. Dean followed after his brother, kneeling next to his niece.
“What happened?” He demanded. No one knew so no one spoke. Sam sat his daughter up against his chest, taking some tissues from the box and wiping away the sick that was around her mouth. Mick began to clear away the area surrounding her body as Dean grabbed the first aid kit. He opened it up and took out a pair of medical tweezers. Dean gently pulled some of the glass from her skin, wiping away any excess blood that oozed out of the wounds.

She groaned a little, trying to grab back hold of consciousness. Dean paused. “Y/N…?” Sam encouraged, squeezing her hand.
“It…it didn’t…” She never finished, her eyes drooping shut. She faded in and out of consciousness as Dean finished clearing her wounds up.

Sam lifted her up gently- bridal styel. He then lay her down on her bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling up a chair next to her. He put his elbows on the mattress, resting his head in his hands. “I don’t understand.” He admitted- lost. “What the hell happened?” Sam looked up to Dean. His older brother. His guide.

“Sammy, I-“ Dean gulped “I don’t know.”

“Some sort of fit…” Mick said “Did she ever tell you about her…power?” He didn’t like to use the word ‘power’.
“Yeah. When we found that other psychic, she used it a little.” Sam nodded, determined to understand what had happened. Mick nodded slowly “She’s dangerous. Or she can be.”
“But she wasn’t using it.” Sam didn’t understand.
“No….but she was angry. Of course.” Mick nodded to himself, suddenly understanding the mood you were in “She was angry.” He repeated.
“Why?” Uncle Dean questioned, folding his arms against his chest.
“The cure. It worked for Claire.”
“Why’s that a bad thing?” Dean pressed.
“Because it didn’t work for Max.”


You awoke to the sounds of muffled voices and a throbbing head. You heaved yourself up from the bed, sitting up straight and taking in your surroundings. This was your room. You had a few bandages on your arms and there were two chairs next to your bed.

You pressed the palm of your hand up to your head as though it would help with the pain.
You were still angry, but maybe because you weren’t fully recovered you wouldn’t lash out aomeone by accident. After a moment of hesitation you made your way towards the voices. Occasionally, you stopped when everything started swaying.
Your throat was dry.

The voices kept growing louder until you turned the corner. You held onto the door frame, your eyes falling on the backs of Dad and Uncle Dean as they discussed Kelly…the one pregnant with the nephilum.
You opened your mouth to say something, anything, like “hey” or “sorry for breaking your lightbulb”, but only a cough came out.

Their heads turner towards you in shock. Dad rose from his chair and smiled: “Y/N”.
He headed straight for you and hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around you protectively. “God, you scared us.” He said, relaxing as you hugged back.

“Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly.
When Dad let go Uncle Dean shot you a smirk before hugging you too. You hugged back, smiling in his embrace. You nearly stumbled when he let go, but managed to balance yourself.

Your eyes squeezed shut for a few seconds as you tried to stop the room from turning.

“The hell happened in there?” Dad asked, taking your hand and guiding you a little.
You followed them to the table, too tired to refuse the help. You shrugged.
“Let me guess, you don’t want to talk about it?” Uncle Dean rolled his eyes. You found it hard ot tell if he was being serious or not. “Sometimes I can’t control it. I think I can. But I can’t. Like…everything’s fine,  but suddenly something happens that reminds me of all this shit I’ve been through and it happens.”
No one knew what to say.

“My head hurts. Then I break something. Then I throw up. Then I pass out.” You went through the same stages. “Always the same. “
“Did you smash the lightbulb…with your mind?” Dad asked, leaning forward.
“Yeah. Not on purpose, though. I just. God I don’t know…” You paused to try and think straight “I feel everything rising up and it all snaps. Then something breaks. Or sets on fire. Or falls down.”
“Like I said,” Mick appeared behind you all “She’s dangerous…” He paused, looking at you sympathetically “but, she’s not a bad person.”
“She’s also sitting right here.” You noted.
“Yes…” Mick caught on and added a quiet “sorry.”

“How’re you feeling?” Dad asked. Maybe he was changing the topic for a reason, or maybe he just didn’t have anything else to say. You sure didn’t. “Fine. My head hurts I guess. But it usually goes after a while.”
“I remember when this happened for the first time,” Mick said “Your Mum wasn’t home and I panicked.  You basically made yourself get better.”
“You lived together?” Dad questioned Mick’s word choices, making you look away.
“Well,” Mick stuttered “It was the Chapter House…there were a few different family’s living together.”
“Really?” Uncle Dean raised an eyebrow in disbelief “You’re a terrible liar.”
Mick didn’t say anything.

“Y/N.” Dad’s firm voice forced you to look at him “Care to shed some light?”
“It was the Chapter House, there were a few different families living together.” You lied, copying Mick’s exact words. “There’s a huge one just north from Central London. “
Your Dad seemed to calm down a little when the words came from you. “Okay.” He didn’t push, but something told you he wasn’t fully convinced either.


Almost two days later you were leaning up against the table, Uncle Dean at your side. Both of you were waiting in anticipation, this was the fifth time you’d called Cas. Once again it went straight to voice mail. “This is my voice mail,” Cas’ awkward voice filled the air once again “Make your voice a mail.”

“Come on Cas we’ve called you about five times already.” Uncle Dean sighed, out of words to say. You shrugged when he glanced at you, followed by him hanging up. “This is hopeless.”
“Is he usually like this?” You asked, still not sure if it was like Cas to leave for quite some time. He was an Angel, so who were you to say what was normal for him?
“Not so much lately.” He shook his head “But even still he usually says what he’s doing or where he’s going.”

A woman called Eileen was sat in the war room with your Dad. She was deaf and used sign language when she spoke. And my God was Dad in love. You didn’t say anything, but watched as he blushed when she spoke. “He’s like a ten year old with his first crush.” You whispered to your Uncle, making him chuckle “Yeah tell me about it.”.
“She’s badass.” You noted, realising just how intelligent this woman was. Not to mention the fact that she was a Hunter. Your Uncle gave you an unreadable look before giving in “Yeah. She sure is.”


Stood next to Eileen, you both watched in amusement as your Dad pretended to be a Doctor to get more information. When he hung up Eileen gave up a thumbs up, Dad grinned back and joined the mini line you’d made. You were with Mick and Rawlings, who were now part of the whole nephilim predicament. 
“You might wanna take this back with you.” Mick handed over the Cult and Dad took the opportunity to sass him “Gee Mick. I thought we’d gotten past the trust issues.”
You gave Rawlings a glare before getting in the Impala.

Everyone arrived at some sort of abandoned looking carpark. You were waiting for Dean who, hopefully, would be with Kelly and maybe even Cas. “Who’s this?” Dean pointed at Rawlings.
“I’m Rennie…Rawlings. Graduated Kendrick’s-”
“Great. I don’t care.” Uncle Dean ignored his ‘look how amazing i am’ speech and opened up the door for Kelly. She refused any more help and got out of the car, staring at you all with brave fear.

Dad stepped up “Kelly, we all know what difficult situation you’re in and we..we want to help.” He kept a calm voice as not to frighten her anymore.
“You call this help?” She asked, rubbing her stomach where the baby-bump was.
“That kid, “ Uncle Dean began “It’s Lucifer’s.”
“I know!” She snapped “Do you think I wanted this? I love this child.”
“You will mean absolutely nothing to that child when it’s born. It’ll kill us all.” Mick scolded. 
“Not helping.” You hissed at him. 
“This is absurd.” Rawlings reached for his gun.

“Don’t!” You and Uncle Dean warned him, only to be cut short by a menacing sound with a strong wind. You paused…this wasn’t natural.
“She’s here.” Kelly managed, looking ten times more afraid than she had been.
who?’ you thought. 

Everyone reached for their gun and stood apart to cover more ground. You all protectively glanced around to see who, or what, it was. “Hey!” A shout came from behind. You glanced around, seeing a woman…well…demon, with yellow glowing eyes and a determined expression. She threw her hands up, sending everyone except Kelly to the ground. You smashed against one of the broken up cars, your gun trying it’s best to slip from your grip,

She walked forward with a blank expression as everyone fired at her. You stopped, putting your gun down. This was a waste of bullets. She was a Prince Of Hell, she’s not going to die from bullets. She threw her hands up at those still left with guns in their grips, making them drop their weaponry, and continued to advance towards Kelly.

You watched as Eileen reached for the cult, lying just in front of her reach. She grabbed hold, cocking it and holding her finger over the trigger. She aimed for the Demon’s head, squeezing the trigger.

However, as the gunshot sounded you watched in a helpless realisation as the Demon disappeared from view, along with Kelly Kline. The bullet continued further along it’s path than it should have and hit Rawlings in the chest. His eyes widened in shock and pain before he fell to the floor. Blood seeped down his shirt.


You stayed close to your Dad as you watched Mick kneel down next to Rawlings, well aware of the bloody code. “I- I didn’t mean to.” Elileen apologised, moving closer to where Mick was. “I meant to shoot the demon.” 
“It’s okay it was an accident.” Dad reassured her, but Mick was unconvinced.

You opened your mouth, halfway between wanting to warn Eileen and shout at Mick. Mick reached for his gun and held it up in front of Eileen. “Woah woah!” Uncle Dean gasped.

“What are you doing?” Dad demanded.

“Mick put the gun down!” You shouted at him loudly. Everyone else had their hands up in defense except you.
“B-But she shot a Men Of Letters. She has to die!”
“It’s not as simple as that!” Dad protested.
“But it’s the code.” Mick was lost.
“Fuck the code!” You practically screamed at him. You stormed past Eileen and your Dad who grabbed onto your shoulder to stop you. You shrugged him off, marching right in front of the barrel. “Y/N, get out of my way.”
“You know I won’t.” You glared at him, trying your best not to look scared.
“Then I’ll shoot you too!” You could see up close that Mick’s eyes were teary.
“You won’t do that.” You said calmly “You don’t have to answer to that stupid code. You can answer to yourself.”

“Your Mum did that.” He was close to crossing a line you’d clearly drawn “And look where it got her.” Your eyes narrowed as he continued “Max tried. Look where that got her.” 
“You’re not Mum! You’re not Max! And you’re not my family!“ You cried.
Mick’s expression fell at your words. 

Please.” Eileen begged “Please don’t…”

Mick squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Mick…” Dad had stepped forward, putting his hand on your shoulder and dragging you away from the gunpoint. Mick followed with the gun absentmindedly before putting it back in front of Eileen. “I know you have this code that you blindly answer to. But you’re better than that.”

Mick lowered his gun, looking in pain as he did so. He avoided everyone’s gaze. “Just go…” he whispered.
Dad nodded, backing away. Only he stopped when you didn’t move. You didn’t know what to do. Did you mean what you’d said? Half of you wanted to apologise whereas the other wanted to walk away. “Y/N,” Dad put his hands on your shoulders “Come on, kid.” 

The four of you trudged down the stairs. Eileen was in front, her hand went to her face where she no doubt wiped away an escaped tear. You watched sympathetically as she stumbled to a halt. 

“You okay?” Uncle Dean asked her.
She nodded for a few seconds, before changing her mind “No…hee wasn’t a monster…he wasn’t” Dad stood next to her, perhaps about to offer some form of comfort, but she hugged him without needing an offer. He hugged back, his head resting protectively on hers. 


“Morning…?” Dad raised an eyebrow at you. It was at least 2 or 3am by now. You’d been up for quite some time.
“Morning.” You hummed, not glancing up from your fidgeting hands.
“Been up long?” He asked, sitting down on the table next to you. Your feet swung, not quite touching the floor.
“A few minutes.” You shrugged.
“Right.” He nodded, still in his night clothes. You both knew he didn’t believe you, but no one said anything.
“What were you reading?” He asked, nodding towards the open book on the table. 
“I wasn’t actually reading it…” You admitted, not sure how to explain.
“What else do you do with books?” He asked, slipping off the table and folding it over to read the title “This is in Latin. You can read this?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t reading it. I was just..turning the pages.”
“Turning the pages?” He echoed. You nodded, not wanting to say it out loud. Dad noticed your slight awkwardness and took a moment to think through everything you’d said. “Oh…you mean, Turning the pages like…with your mind?” 

You nodded. “Maybe if I use this…whatever this is…for harmless stuff it won’t build up. And I won’t hurt anyone.” 
He offered a sad smile then joined you again, his feet touched the floor. “Maybe.”
“I never told Mum.” You admitted.
“What?”
“I never told her. As far as she was concerned I was normal.” You explained.
“You are normal.” Dad reassured.
“Max couldn’t do it.” You ignored him.
“Really?”
“Just me.”

“I’m sorry…”
You frowned in thought “Why?” 
“Mick told us what happened to Max.” 
“Oh…” You looked away again.
“I know it must have been hard to watch it work on Claire after.. But, that is a good thing. It’s not fair, but it did save a life.” Dad tried to calm you down, but you’d already lost it over that. 
“They made me watch.” You said blankly.
“Watch?”


“When they realised that the cure wasn’t working they made me watch her die.” You took a deep breath. ‘Don’t cry’ you told yourself. 
“That’s horrible, Y/N I’m so sorry.” 
“I think-” You paused, having never said these words out loud before “I think they meant for her to get bitten.”
“What makes you think that?”
“They never liked us. They could just pass it as an excuse for an experiment. Nothing they did for us was ever due to good intentions.” You didn’t know how to say it without sounding way too suspicious of them.

“What did they have against you?”
“I’m not traditional. I’m not obedient. I didn’t go to Kendrick’s. I have a brain-”
You were cut off by him chuckling at the last point “You’ve been through a lot.” He commented.
“Not compared to some.” You shrugged it off.
“Doesn’t make it insignificant.” He countered, smiling at you.

You didn’t move for a while. “You should get some sleep.” He said, placing a gently hand on your shoulder. 
“Yeah.” You agreed absentmindedly. 
“Come on.” He said calmly, guiding you away from the room.

When you reached your bedroom you noticed he hadn’t left your side. “Y/N, hey. Look at me.” 
You glanced up, your eyes tired and teary. He had a sullen look. 

Without saying anything he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut in his embrace in a desperate attempt to keep the tears from falling. Dad’s arms held you close in comfortable silence. “I’m proud of you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your head. “So proud.”



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We Are One Mess - Stafou

Things are going well for LeFou.

Belle and Maurice appear to have forgiven him and everyone in the village is making sure he knows he isn’t blamed for a thing. LeFou notices there is a lightness in his steps that hasn’t been there for a very long time.

“Bonjour!” LeFou smiles at Agatha, nodding as a way of greeting. He makes his way over to the tavern, the sun setting and painting the sky a combination of beautiful reds and pinks.

As he opens the door the tavern he is immediately greeted by laughter and other noises and he smiles as he hops onto one of the stools at the bar. This isn’t so bad.

A beer is slid in front of him and when he looks up, he sees Stanley grinning at him. “LeFou.” Stanley slides onto the stool next to him, their elbows touching. LeFou takes a big gulp of his beer. “How was your day?” It is such a simple question, but the smile that Stanley sends in his direction causes LeFou’s heart to flutter. “I uh- I went to the castle. Belle had something she wanted to show me.” LeFou shrugs. He wouldn’t tell Stanley about the reading lessons he was getting from Belle. Not yet.

“How was yours?’ He asks instead. “It was – ah, uneventful.” Stanley ducks his head, his cheeks colouring slightly darker than usual. “Want to get out of here?” “We can go back to mine if you want?” LeFou offers as an answer, smiling slightly. Stanley merely nods.

As soon as the pair felt like there was nobody around that could see them, Stanley’s hand found LeFou’s and the two continued to walk to LeFou’s small cottage hand in hand. LeFou allowed Stanley to enter his tiny house before him, taking his jacket, hanging it over one of the squeaky old dining chairs and closing the door. As soon as the door falls shut, Stanley’s arms are around LeFou, embracing him tightly. LeFou lets out a little sound, before relaxing into the embrace and burying his face in the crook of Stanley’s neck. “I missed you today.” Stanley mutters and LeFou hums. “I did too.” The pair breaks apart, smiling softly at one another. Stanley grabs his bag, pulling out a small package carrying the logo of LeFou’s favourite baker. Stanley sits down and slides the package to LeFou.

“What’s this?” LeFou picks up the box, a big smile plastered on his face. “A little something for my favourite person.” LeFou opens the box, taking out a cupcake, a delicate little sugar flower on top of it as decoration. LeFou leans over the table, pressing a small kiss on Stanley’s cheek.

Yes, things are going well for LeFou.

*

Some days, things are not going so well for LeFou.

On days he doesn’t spend with Stanley, insecurities and doubt fill his mind and heart, suffocating him. Stanley is without a doubt the most important person in LeFou’s life. He’s funny, handsome, kind, caring and just about everything LeFou isn’t.

Stanley can get everyone he desired, especially now that Gaston – Well, let’s just say Gaston isn’t snatching away any of the village’s ladies anymore.  He can be with someone he can show off to the entire village, something he most definitely cannot with LeFou.

LeFou looks at himself in the mirror, hating how his reflection isn’t fully visible, his sides being too wide. (Never mind the fact that if he takes a step backwards, he will be) He lets out a frustrating groan.

“What are you doing mon amour?” LeFou turns around at once, facing Stanley with his tear-stained face. “Oh, LeFou.” Stanley coos, stepping closer to his lover. “I just want to be skinny.” LeFou sniffles. “Why on earth would you want that, LeFou?” LeFou looks down at his feet. “I just want to be good enough for you.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he really didn’t. The words just slipped.

“Oh LeFou! Non! Tu es parfait maintenant! Tu es plus parfait! S’il te plaît, écoute moi! You are the most perfect person I know!” Stanley rushes towards LeFou, cradling LeFou’s face between his large hands. “You are caring and loyal. You are kind and ambitious. I love cuddling with you and I love how well you fit in my arms. I don’t care if you’re not skinny, LeFou, I care if you’re happy. Tu es mon rêve, mon amour.” Stanley gently wipes away LeFou’s tears, leaning down and softly kissing LeFou’s lips. “Je t’aime.” He whispers against the other man’s lips, before pressing them together once more.

Some days are not going well for LeFou, but he will always have his Stanley to make them better.

*

Stanley is happy.

He has the most wonderful lover and he feels like the two of them can’t possible get any happier. This doesn’t mean, however, that there isn’t something nagging at Stanley. Something that has been nagging him ever since his first encounter with Madame de Garderobe and her majestic creations.

When Tom, Dick and himself were put into dresses of the most gorgeous, soft fabrics, it had repulsed Tom and Dick, but not Stanley. No, Stanley had loved the way the soft fabrics fell around his body and felt beautiful, especially with de kind and uplifting words coming from the Madame. So ever since then, he has been going to Madame de Garderobe, comparing colours and drawing designs for the most wonderful dresses for the most gorgeous of mesdames. Madame de Garderobe has even told him he’d make for a great apprentice and she would love to take him on, if that is something that he would be interested in.

Truth be told, he wants nothing more, but something is holding him back. After all, he doesn’t want LeFou to regard him as – No, he will not fall into his doubts so deeply again. He must be the strong and masculine one of them, LeFou carrying enough troubles and doubts for them both.

So, he told Madame ‘no’ with his gaze on the floor, before hurrying out of the castle. Yet every Saturday morning, he makes his way back to the castle, surrounding himself with colours and fabrics and the wonderful person that is Madame de Garderobe. And he doesn’t say a single word to his lover.

*

“Bonjour, Madame!” Stanley greets her brightly when he enters the chambers. “Stanley! Oh, Stanley! I have the most wonderful thing to show you!” Stanley laughs and follows Madame de Garderobe into the other room, where she makes all her wonderful creations. Stanley stops abruptly when he sees the mannequin in the centre of the room, the most beautiful, gorgeous dress he has ever seen hanging from it.

“Well, what do you think?” “Madame, votre création est magnifique! The girl who will get the honour of wearing these otherworldly fabrics will be the luckiest of all!” “C’est me pas pour une fille, my dear lad.” She smiles, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Stanley steps closer to the mannequin, his fingers dancing over the soft peach-coloured fabric, entranced by the beauty and difficult designs. “Pour qui-” Stanley glances up at the Madame. “Pour toi, Stanley.” “For me? But-” “It’s exactly your size. Go! Try it on for me, s’il te plaît.” And how could he say no to those pleading eyes?

*

LeFou whistles a little tune as he walks out of the library. The reading and writing lesson went especially well today. Maybe sometime soon he will be able to write an actual letter to Stanley. The thought only caused his smile to broaden. “This is – I’ve never felt so beautiful in my life, Madame.” LeFou hears a familiar voice say. Stanley.

He follows the sound of his excited chatter and walks into the chambers of Madame de Garderobe. He wonders what has lead Stanley to be as happy, since it has been a while since he heard the man this excited. He glanced inside the other chamber, de working space of Madame, and sees Madame de Garderobe looking fondly at Stanley who’s twirling in front of a full-sized mirror, dressed in – LeFou’s eyes widen. Stanley is twirling in a detailed, peach-coloured dress, his lips appearing to be slightly darker than usual and a light pink colouring his eyes.

Stanley gasps when he locks eyes with LeFou through the mirror and turns around abruptly. “LeFou! This isn’t – It’s really not-” Tears well up in Stanley’s eyes and he shuffles his feet. “Madame, could I have a moment with Stanley, s’il vous plaît?” He smiles at her. Warily, she takes her leave. Stanley doesn’t dare look LeFou in the eye as the shorter man walks closer to him. “Stanley, you-” LeFou raises his hand. Stanley flinches back. “Oh, Stan. You look-” Stanley sucks in a breath. “Disgusting? Like a freak? You never wish to see me again?” From the other chamber, Madame de Garderobe makes an indignant sound.

“Stanley, you look stunning.” LeFou speaks quietly, not wanting to startle or cause distress any more. Stanley carefully meets LeFou’s eyes, tears starting to fall once he saw the sincerity in them. “How- Why aren’t you-?” Stanley can’t understand. This wonderful, amazing man, accepted him?

“Stanley.” LeFou wipes away Stanley’s tears, careful of the simple, yet fitting, make-up. “I love you.” Stanley lets out a throaty laugh. “I love you, too, mon amour. Thank you for-” LeFou cuts him off. “There is absolutely nothing to thank me for. Tu es parfait, Stanley.”

*

One night, a fortnight later, LeFou is getting ready for the ball he was personally invited to by Belle. “Are you sure you won’t join me?” He looks at Stanley through the reflection of the mirror. Stanley is looking at his lover with a wide smile, from where he is leaning against the door post. “Yes, I’m sure. Madame de Garderobe had something the wanted to show me.” “Join me after?” “Don’t assume, but maybe I will. I have no idea how long Madame will take. I do know she is expected to sing at the ball this evening. Come here.” LeFou turns around as Stanley walks over to him, gently taking the strands of the ribbon around LeFou’s neck and tying it together in a neat bowtie. “The pink suits you, mon amour.” “All my ribbons are pink, Stanley.” Stanley hums as response, pressing a kiss on LeFou’s forehead. “Je sais, but pink is quite your colour.” LeFou chuckles and walks past him, exiting their shared bedroom. “Have you told Madame de Garderobe that you will take the apprenticeship yet?” Stanley follows suit. “Not yet, but I will tonight.” He hands LeFou his coat. “Enjoy yourself this evening, mon amour.” “It would turn out better if you would join me. At least join me on the ride to the castle?”

*

The pair separates in the entrance hall of the castle, after both greeting Lumière, who is welcoming the guests.

LeFou makes his way to the ballroom, while Stanley walks towards the chambers of Madame de Garderobe.

“Salut Madame, you had something to show me?” “Stanley! Oui, come!” She smiles one of her trademark mischievous smiles at him and pushes a grey dress in his hands. “Let’s give that man of you a little surprise, shall we?” “But Madame! The people-” “Will be dealt with by me and my Froufrou if they dare speak badly of you! Now get dressed! I didn’t spend all week on sewing for nothing.” She walks off and Stanley starts to get dressed. The grey fabric falls over his shoulders and Stanley eyes himself in the mirror. The grey is decorated with rich patterns of the most vibrant of blues. It is absolutely stunning. Stanley sits down at the table where the Madame holds all her powders and coals and starts to working on his face, a nervous yet exciting feeling settling in his belly.

*

LeFou can’t say that he isn’t having a good time, because he is. Yet he also knows Stanley’s presence can make it infinitely better. He smiles at the lady he is dancing with and twirls her around. As she steps from him to turn, another person slides in, filling her space.

LeFou looks up and smiles broadly when he sees Stanley in front of him, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, yet his lips are lifted in a nervous smile. 

“You look gorgeous, Stanley.” LeFou tells the taller man as he leads Stanley through the dance. In the background, they hear Madame de Garderobe singing her beautiful tunes, her husband by her side and her beloved Froufrou in her arms.

And in that moment, in the ballroom, surrounded by people who don’t even spare the gentlemen a second glance, they were infinite.

anonymous asked:

Hi! I dont know if youre still taking prompts. If you are can you write a fic killian teaches his and emmas son(s) how to be gentlemen and emma and the family think its so cute when they do something courteous?

Oh my goodness, this is adorable!


“Why, thank you, Charlie,” Snow said as the six-year-old held the door to Granny’s open as his family filed out of the diner.

“You’re welcome, Gramma,” Charlie replied politely.

Since their family was large, Charlie ended up acting as a doorstop for a good few moments without a word of complaint. Snow turned to Emma, a smile on her face and her eyes shining. “What a little gentleman.”

“Yeah, Killian’s been imparting all his gentleman-ly knowledge on the kid,” Emma replied, a matching smile on her lips. “Charlie holds doors, he pulls out chairs at the table. He even takes things from me if he thinks I’m carrying too much.”

Snow came thisclose to letting out an audible, “Awww.”

“It’s the cutest with Leia. He gets her toys and wraps an arm around her when she’s crying.” Which was often; Leia had recently entered her terrible twos and Emma was beginning to understand exactly how the age got its name.

“He’s going to make a special someone very happy someday,” Snow said.

Killian was the last to file out of Granny’s. He ruffled his young son’s hair as he took the door and told the kid to head down the stairs with a, “Well done, lad.”

Emma smiled lovingly at her boys while shifting a squirming Leia in her arms. “He sure will. After all, he takes after his dad.”

Wedding Series #4 - Telling Someone (Harry)

Harry could barely contain the smile on his face as he walked into the pub he was meeting the boys in, wanting to tell them that you’d said yes to being his wife, something he still couldn’t quite believe no matter how many days had passed since he’d asked. It was almost unbelievable to him that soon you’d be his forever, that he’d never have to worry about losing you again.

You’d both agreed on keeping the engagement quiet so you could just enjoy the bliss that came along with being engaged. Harry didn’t want to deal with the whiplash of hate that was sure to find the both of you as soon as it was announced and he didn’t want you to deal with it either. That being said though, Harry wanted to at least tell his best mates, knowing they wouldn’t blab about it to anyone else until you and Harry were comfortable with it.

Looking around the modestly crowded bar Harry spotted Niall first, sitting at a booth further towards the back. He weaved himself around people and across the dance floor until he was sliding into the seat next to Liam, giving each of his friends a beaming smile.
“Hey lads.”
“Harry,” Louis nodded, taking a sip of his beer.
Niall slid a schooner over the table and Harry took a mouthful gratefully.
“So, I have something to tell you all.”
“What’s that mate?” Liam enquired, raising one of his eyebrows.
“She said yes.”

Harry stated it simply, watching to see the reactions as soon as the boys understood what he was saying. He looked around at all their faces, noting the same confused expression.
“Wait,” Louis said a minute later, his eyes widening slightly. “Did you ask y/n what I think you did?!”
“Asked what?” Niall cut in, scrunching up his nose.
“Did you ask her to marry you?” Liam continued, clapping Harry on the back.

Harry just nodded. “Yep, and she said yes!”

Written By Bree xx 

anonymous asked:

I don't know if it's been suggested before (I've never seen any posts about it but I'm fairly new) but I would love it if the fakes occasionally decided to fuck with the local news stations by having Gavin hack in mid-broadcast and cut to a feed of them running around with a camera and make team lads action news in the fahc universe. Like running around the city pointing guns at people and asking them for news or running around the penthouse bugging the rest of the crew

Gavin’s not only skilled with words and manipulation, he’s an extremely talented hacker. The best in the city. There’s no information that can hide from him, nothing he can’t leak or exploit. With the power to uncover anything in the city, Gavin uses it to have a little fun sometimes. A live press conference about the LSPD cracking down on violent crimes fizzles out to reveal a smug grin. Gavin backs up and waves to the camera, introducing himself before panning over to show Michael, Ray, and Jeremy, all of which are armed to the teeth in their heist gear with wicked smiles on their faces. Lads Action News commences and soon they’re holding people at gun point, asking them what their opinion on violent crimes is. Barely anyone manages more than a stutter and soon enough they’re just filming exploding cars and bullet casing littered streets. The feed ends with Jeremy looking seriously into the camera and holding a flare like a microphone. “Back to you, Jessica,” he says very solemnly before a screeching laughter is heard and the feed cuts out.

Sacrificial Friend

Thanks to all the lovlies that liked, reblogged and commented on smile.  You’re so very kind.

As you may or may not know, I enjoy short chaptered fics and this is the first part of my knew one.  I got the idea from a convo I had with @madfatty ages ago.  She wondered how Chloe got to know Izzy and I thought about it for a minute and thought of something a bit cynical.  I let my over active imagination morph the idea into this mostly unrelated AU.  Sorry to Chloe fans.

Sacrificial Friend

Chloe knew what she had to do.  Since the moment Sally Crowther gave her the idea she thought about it over and over and decided it was the only way she would achieve her goal.  If she could just get their attention she’d be able to snare one of them with her shiny hair and perfect figure.

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