the way he's just all folded up in that chair

Hook, Line, & Sinker

  Pairing: Finn Balor (Fergal Devitt) x Reader

A/N: If there is any band that reminds me the most of Finn Balor, it is Royal Blood. If you haven’t listened to them, go and do it, they’re ! This imagine is based on one of their songs, “Hook, Line, & Sinker”. 

Summary: Finn had multiple reasons for wanting to turn heel and redesign the Bullet Club, he was the founder, he could do whatever he pleased with it. Though, the heaviest influence comes from the fact that Finn knows all too well that Y/N’s a sucker for the bad boys and he’s itching for her attention. 

Warnings: Sexual Content (I didn’t intend for the smut, but there’s def smut), Language, also warning, this is VERY long.  

Word Count: 10,517 (I could not stop writing). 

She’s got the devil on one shoulder, and the other’s getting colder…  Then she drags me by one finger, to her lips, Hook, line & sinker… 

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A Demon does not crawl from the depths of hell to dance for man’s entertainment; a Demon does what they want, when they want, with whomever they want. 

To have this man whose greatest accomplishments were only achieved when calling upon a demon within him, as a face for the company, just seemed a bit foolish - and Finn was tired of looking like a fool. 

It seemed like ever since his return, all that he had been set up for was failure. Every match he agreed to be a part of was only ruined and manipulated to please the more villainous superstars of the WWE. 

While Finn was patted on the head like a child for being the good, cooperative, and hard-working employee he was, there were those like Joe and Bray who were being handed title opportunity after title opportunity for doing nothing but cheating their way to the top. 

Finn was absolutely tired of it. If he had stayed in NJPW, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d still be strutting around that country with the rest of the world on his back. When he was a heel - when he was with the Bullet Club - he was an absolute monster. 

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Gestures

@kansouame honey, a rushed fluff for you that I wrote this morning, all the hugs (it’s also on ao3) xx


There is something Dean wants, needs from him.

He should have noticed this a long time ago. He should have, Cas berates himself, angry for not having done. He’s an angel, after all, it’s not like he can’t hear Dean’s every thought, even when he does attempt to tune them out for respect of Dean’s privacy.

He should have known. And angel he may be, but it’s going to take something very human to set this right.

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Breaking In Labor Day Flash Forward Sneak Peek

I’ve been asked a couple of times to do a sneaky peek of Robin and Regina’s Labor Day sexcapades sometime this Labor Day weekend. So here, have a wee peek at the first time Robin goes down on Regina….



Her heart skips a little beat when the doorbell rings, and Regina tells herself it’s silly. It’s not like they’ve never had sex before, or like they’re not going to have dinner first. Still, she’s been looking forward to tonight since Liam left with Henry this morning, and she can’t deny there’s a little sprint in her step as she heads for the door.

Robin is standing on the other side of it with a smirk and a single purple tulip, and a grin splits Regina’s face immediately.

“Nice touch,” she tells him, reaching out to take it, memories of a different tulip so many weeks ago distracting her as he steps inside.

“Thought you’d like it,” he murmurs, and there’s something about his voice, a low roughness, that has her glancing back up from the little bloom just in time for his lips to crash into hers.

She lets out a surprised little “Mm!”, fingers gripping tightly around the stem as his own weave into her hair, his other hand finding purchase at her hip and pushing her back against the door to close it.

Well, then.

It’s a hell of a greeting, his mouth almost too-eager against hers and his warm tongue darting out to beg entrance at her lips. She opens for him, tongues sliding, breath mingling, and that low simmer of desire she’s been nursing all day flares up hot. Her arms rise to wrap around his neck as she presses herself snugly against his front, and, God, he’s already half hard.

“Smells amazing in here,” he mutters between kisses, and she hums, and manages a thank you. “What’s for–mmm–dinner?”

He kisses her again before she can answer, the hand on her hip sliding around to her ass and squeezing in a way that has her grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. God, he can’t ask her questions and then do that.

She manages to get out, “Baked barbeque chicken,” between a handful of kisses, pleased when he moans softly and mutters a Bless you against her lips.

When he asks a breathless, “How long,” she tells him ten more minutes, and he groans, “Perfect,” then gives her ass another good squeeze. The hand in her hair slides down to do the same to one of her breasts as his mouth veers off down her neck in a string of kisses that make goosebumps flare up her neck.

She can feel the way her nipples go tight at the sensation, a moan tumbling free of her, and then he’s sinking to his knees and tugging at the button of her shorts. She lets out a disbelieving little laugh as he yanks her zipper down, a laughing “Robin!” as her shorts plop around her ankles, her thong dragged down with them. (What a shame – she’d worn the lacy grey and lavender one again, the one she’d been wearing last week in August’s office, so he’d actually have a chance to enjoy her in it. He can enjoy them later, she supposes.)

And then he’s looking at her hungrily and, God, licking his lips, and if her heart wasn’t pounding before, it is now. It seems Robin’s in the mood for a pre-dinner appetizer.

Those blue eyes flick up at her for a second, dark and wanting, and then he… devours. There’s not really another word for the way he grasps her hips and leans in to kiss hungrily and open-mouthed over her clit. His tongue firm against her, a little suck to finish it off. And then he moans, she feels the vibration of it against her before he does that same sucking, licking kiss again and again, and Regina gasps and squirms, her fingers weaving into his hair, tulip fluttering to the floor, forgotten.

It’s intense, the flick of his tongue, a careless little graze of his teeth, and he’s moaning against her, fingers squeezing her ass as he sucks again, and it’s hot, it is, but, “Slow down,” she gasps, giving his hair a little tug.

He pauses and glances up, letting loose a questioning little grunt as his tongue drags over her clit again.

Regina swallows thickly, and tells him, “You’re, um, you’re a bit… ahead of me. It’s…” She grimaces slightly, scrapes her nails against his scalp, and urges, “It’s just a little intense to start off with. Slow down, let me get warmed up.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, smiling a little lopsidedly, and skimming one hand from her ass down her thigh, lifting it up over his shoulder to open her to him a little more. She shifts her weight slightly to accommodate – why are they doing this against the door? – as he tells her, “I’ve been thinking about this for a bloody week – the whole bloody summer. I may have gotten a little… overzealous.”

Regina smirks, then sighs pleasantly as he bends back to his task and runs his tongue from her clit down and back up, down and back up. That’s more like it. “Mm, believe me, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” she says softly, “I just… Mmm… I just need some… coaxing…”

He Mms an acknowledgement into her, then chases it with his tongue, tilting her hips slightly so he can let it sink into her and lick and swirl, and oh, that’s nice, that’s… that’s… She shifts her foot a little to adjust her weight again, and frowns.

This is really not the ideal place for this.

“Robin,” she murmurs, nails igniting a shiver along his scalp and making her smile. He drags his tongue up slowly, circles her clit, and then looks up expectantly. “Don’t you think we should move to the couch or something? Somewhere more… horizontal?”

He snickers, breath tickling against her sex, his lips bussing a soft kiss over her clit, and then he shrugs. “I’m fine here, but if you’re uncomfortable…”

“A little,” she admits. “And I’ve been waiting for this too, I want to really enjoy–oh!

He’s sucking firmly at her clit, just for a second, just once, and then he sits back a little and pushes himself up to his feet, leaning in to kiss her lips.


He tastes like her, and it makes her clench.

“Then lead the way, milady,” he teases when the kiss ends, and so she does.

Or at least, she does for about four steps before she realizes she’s left her shorts by the door and the bay window curtains are wide open. Regina laughs a little, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and says, “If we’re going to do this in the living room, can I trouble you to close the curtains?”

Robin bites into his smile and tells her, “Gladly,” and she leans against the edge of the living room doorway and watches him do just that.

He looks good tonight, in that dark heather-grey v-neck she likes, and jeans that hug his ass particularly well. When he turns back toward her, she can see how hard he is, can see the way his cock is pressing against his fly, and she tilts her head a little, teases, “On second thought, maybe we should take this upstairs – unless you have a condom on you?”

He pauses, shoulders sagging, a groan of frustration ripping out of him before he admits, “They’re still in my bloody locker. I worked last night for Ruby; I meant to grab them.”

Regina just shrugs a little, and says, “It’s alright; I still have some.” She tilts her head toward the stairs, gives her brows a pointed little waggle, but Robin doesn’t perk up much.

He mutters a quiet, “Fuck,” and then shakes his head, insists, “Doesn’t matter right now, anyway. I’m going to eat you out – finally—” that gets a smile out of him, and he takes a few steps toward her to close the distance between them “—and then I’m going to eat some of that chicken, and then we can worry about condoms.”

He has his hands on her bare waist again, his thumbs stroking her hip bones, but all Regina does is lift her brows at him and drop a hand down to cup his erection through his jeans. She watches his Adam’s apple bob as she gives it a slow stroke, and asks, “Do you really have no intention of dealing with this before dinner?”

Robin’s grip tightens on her hips, and he begins to walk backward, pulling her along with him and not at all in the direction of the sofa.

“I’m fairly certain we don’t have time,” he says, assuring, “I’ll keep until after,” as he turns them slightly and steers her toward one of the arm chairs closer to the window – thank God they’d closed the curtains.

She sinks down into it with a little sigh, feeling ridiculously light-hearted (maybe not so ridiculous, considering she has a gorgeous man lowering himself to his knees again in front of her), as she says, “As long as you’re not going to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m good,” he murmurs, distracted again as she leans back in the chair, letting him tug her hips a little closer to the edge of the cushion.

But she balks when he lifts one of her knees to rest oh-so-conveniently on the arm of the chair, and then reaches to do the same with the other. His name comes out in a scolding little laugh, her thighs closing – or trying to, anyway, but he’s between them, so she only really manages to hook one over his shoulder, the other settling back into place on the chair.

His slight change in venue for them suddenly makes more sense, but she’s not sure how much she likes it.

“What?” Robin asks with a little pout.

Regina shrugs a shoulder jerkily and says, “I just feel a bit… on display.”

“As all art should be,” he flirts, dimples winking. Regina snorts a laugh, one hand rising to cover her face for a moment as she tells him he’s ridiculous.

“I wouldn’t call that”—she gestures down between them—“art.”

It’s Robin’s brows rising now, as he lifts one hand to let his thumb skate gently up and down, parting her folds, and murmuring warmly, “I beg to differ, love.”

It’s so…. loving. No, not loving, just… admiring, and her heart does this little flop in her chest, everything in her softening a bit. When he reaches for her knee again and splays it over the chair she just huffs out a little breath, and lets her hand fall over her face again, her belly twisting anxiously in a way that makes her feel absolutely ridiculous.

“When did you come over all shy?” she hears him ask, his smile evident in his voice, just before he presses a gentle kiss just above her clit. His beard tickles the soft skin there, freshly bare from the Brazilian she’d sacrificed a lunch break for on Thursday.

“When you spread me open like a porn star,” she mutters, daring to peek down and find him gazing adoringly up at her, dimples peeking out, his chin settling just above her sex as he reaches up and draws her hand down away from her face.

He presses her palm to his lips, and murmurs, “I intend to enjoy my pre-dinner snack; I wanted unfettered access. Does it really bother you?”

Regina swallows thickly, heart in her throat, and asks lamely, “Do you like what you see?”

Robin’s brows shoot up, incredulous, and he leans back a little, swipes his thumb over her again and murmurs, “Do I like what I see?” like it’s a ridiculous question, his gaze following his thumb as he does. He gives her clit a slow rub, a lazy circle, then lets his thumb sink down and into her. Regina bites her lip as it presses in and up, a lazy throb of pleasure pulsing out in response. He draws it out, and spreads her open a little more, then looks up to meet her gaze, and tells her, “I love what I see. I want to get very up close and personal with what I see. I want to map every bit of what I see with my tongue, and then make you come so hard you damn near tug my hair out at the root – but I’m pretty sure I only have about three minutes left to get it done.”

She laughs a little at that last part, the impatience he’s not trying too terribly hard to hide, and since he seems totally sincere in his desires, she tries to tell herself not to worry so much about being splayed wide in her living room, on the chair where her son sometimes reads his chapter books for school. If Robin wants her spread out like a buffet, then… well, then, she should tell her stupid self-conscious anxiety to shove it, and let him.

Regina takes a breath, and shuts her eyes, waving a hand dismissively (she hopes), and then she sasses, “Well, then you’d better get to it.”

He chuckles his “Yes, ma’am,” and she grins, too, and then his tongue is retracing the path his thumb had been – over her clit and down, back up, a little circle around the increasingly sensitive nub, and then the whole circuit starts again. On his third pass, he settles over her clit and gives it a lazy, swirling lick and suck, his hands gripping her thighs now, squeezing gently. He does it again, and she gasps softly, her breath thickening.

“I like that,” she breathes, “Keep doing that…”

Robin hums softly in acknowledgement, and complies, and she loses herself for a moment in the warm, slippery friction of his tongue, the way his fingers stroke and squeeze at her thighs, and suddenly how on display she is becomes the furthest thing from her mind. He does it again, again, again, and she gasps, and moans, and presses her hips up against him, her fingers digging into the upholstery.

When he sucks her clit into his mouth and rubs his tongue against it, her thighs shake, a low, “Ohhh…” trembling out of her as her hands fall to weave through his hair again. He draws back until she pops from his lips, then dips right back in and does it again, sucking her in hard, swirling his tongue against where she’s most sensitive, drawing back, and Regina lets out an embarrassing little whine, and a quiet, breathy, “Fuck.”

She feels his chuckle in response as a low buzz of vibration as he’s sucking her in again, and oh, she should have let him do this to her sooner. Should have let him settle his thumbs on either side of her clit like he’s doing now and spread her taut to expose the most sensitive part, so his tongue can dance quick, light passes over it in a way that makes her squirm and gasp and fist her fingers in his hair as her toes curl. It’s intense, almost too much, but she’s warmed up now, so she can take it, can twist a little under the attention and make sounds she’s trying not to think too much about, little startled, desperate moans as frissons of pleasure spark again and again from his—

The buzzing of the oven timer startles them both – she feels him jump slightly as her heart ratchets up into her throat. Robin lets out a growl of frustration at being interrupted, but Regina just slips her thighs from the arms of the chair and urges a breathless, “Just go turn the heat off and come back. The chicken needs to rest for a minute anyway before it’s ready to eat.”

He makes another dissatisfied sound then levers up and kisses her deeply, their tongues tangling, his beard a little damp against her chin.

Robin mutters, “You’re ready to eat,” then steals one last peck and pushes away from her as she laughs softly and crosses her legs demurely in his absence. He’s only gone for a minute, the buzzer cutting off abruptly, and the faint sound of running water, and then he’s on his way back to her, gulping from a cup with one hand and adjusting his too-tight jeans with the other.

When he finishes drinking, she watches his gaze skim over her, tip to toes, and she feels her skin heat just a fraction warmer.

“How is it,” he wonders, his head tilting to the side slightly as his gaze wanders back up, “that you are so effortlessly sexy?”

Regina grins, and shakes her head at him, her crossed ankle bouncing lazily as he closes the distance between them. He’s such an adorable idiot.

He holds the cup out to her when he’s within arm’s reach; she swallows against the dryness at the back of her throat and takes it gratefully as he sinks to his knees again. Robin’s palms find her knees, trying to part them as he insists, “I mean it. You’re just sitting there in a t-shirt, waiting for me to come back and eat you out, and you look fucking incredible.”

Regina denies him access for a moment, presses her knees together with a little shake of her head while she sips; Robin pouts and leans in to press a kiss to her skin, another, one more, until she sets the cup aside and muses, “You’re very good for the self esteem, you know that?” because she very much doubts she looks as good as he says, but the compliments buoy her up nonetheless.

“I try,” he smirks, as she uncrosses her legs. The way he licks his lips as she parts her thighs again for him makes heat streak though her belly.

“This is nice,” she sighs, realizing a second too late that she’s actually said it out loud, but oh well. Who cares? It is nice, being leisurely eaten out on a lazy summer holiday afternoon, and why should she feel embarrassed about it?

“Very nice,” Robin agrees, gaze focused between her thighs again; she gets the distinct impression he’s talking about her, about there, and not this, and it has her suppressing a smile and letting her arms stretch lazily above her head while he adjusts her thighs slightly and scoots in closer. That knee-jerk insecurity from earlier is gone now, the dark blue of his eyes and soft stroke of his palms over her thighs making her feel sexy, and wanted, and at ease.

God, she loves being like this with him. Loves the way he’s bending his head down and giving her a teasing lick, before he glances up and asks, “You were enjoying it before, right? Before the timer? I couldn’t tell if those were good moans, or too-much moans.”

Regina bites her lip and admits, “A bit of both. It was good, but not for too long. And, um, you could go faster now, or harder. If you wanted. It was just… too much too soon before.”

Robin turns his head and plants a little garden of soft kisses high on her thigh, the raspy tickle of his beard making her twitch as he murmurs between them, “I’d been waiting all day to eat you out, couldn’t wait any longer. And we were on a bit of a time crunch.”

He gives her a little wink after that, and she smirks, and stretches slightly, and decides, “Cold chicken tastes just fine. Take your time.”

His chuckle rushes over her skin, kisses blooming higher along her thigh as he asks, “You want me to keep going slow? Now that I have you all spread out and willing, I find I’m in much less of a hurry.”  

She drops one hand to his jaw, nails scratching lightly at his beard as he presses another soft kiss into her skin. “Mm, I’m fine either way.”

The next kiss he plants is warm, and open-mouthed, settled right at the hinge of hip and thigh; Regina licks her lips, her breath catching slightly at the subtle change of pace. Or not pace, because he’s not moving any faster, but… something. There’s a shift of mood, maybe, of tone, as he sucks another kiss right next to it.

“I think…” he murmurs, before he gives her another kiss, just the same but a little higher, close to her clit but not nearly close enough. “…I’d like to…” Another, just above and a little to the left of the last. “…savor this one…”

He sucks his next kiss just above her clit, close enough that his tongue teases ever so slightly against the hood, but no closer, and Regina lets out a rush of breath and regrets not having a firmer opinion on the pace of things because, “Oh God, you’re going to tease, aren’t you?”

He chuckles warmly and continues his slow, counter-clockwise tour of everywhere but her clit, around, and down the other side, until she’s aching from the lack of attention.

“Bastard,” she breathes, but there’s not much heat to it. Clearly he knows it, because all he does is laugh softly again and run his tongue far too lightly up the center of her, a tickling caress over her inner lips that just makes her mutter, “I changed my mind; I want it fast.”

Robin grins up at her, and shakes his head. “Too late. You didn’t care.”

“I care now,” she argues, moaning softly as his tongue slides down and back up… and then back down, parting her further but without ever quite touching her clit. This was a terrible idea…

“Only because you know I’m going to tease,” he reasons. He turns to drop a kiss on her thigh again, just one, before he shifts a little, his hand settling warm and low on her belly, thumb stroking gently just above where she needs it. “If you hadn’t asked, you’d just be enjoying a leisurely eating out right now.”

She has to give him that, but still, “Robin…”

His thumb strokes her skin again, and he murmurs, “You’re so soft,” almost to himself – he doesn’t give her a chance to figure out any way to respond, to ask if he likes her that way – this way – if he prefers it (she doesn’t usually go full Brazilian just for herself, the upkeep is a hassle, but Graham had liked her that way, and she doesn’t mind it, she’ll make the regular appointment if this is something they’re going to be doing often and—)

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” he interrupts her thoughts, his thumb still stroking lightly – and closer and closer to her clit every time. “About eating you out. Every time I’ve fingered you and gotten to lick you off my fingers it was like a little sample.”

His thumb sneaks down, alongside her clit but not over it, and Regina’s cheeks flush at the way she gasps softly at the touch. He’s barely even started this stupid teasing yet; he’s going to kill her.

He’s still talking, the bastard, telling her, “Like a little tease of how good you’d taste on my tongue. And every time, I’d want to go down on you, and it wouldn’t happen, and I’d think about it. Want it. Want to kiss my way down and hold your hips, and lick and suck and” —he strokes once down the other side of her clit and back up, the absolute teasing bastard— “fuck you with my tongue.”

She moans softly when he says it, and damnit, that’s not fair, because he’s smirking at her now; he knows what he’s doing to her, with these touches that just barely graze against her.

“And I’d think about how wet you’d be, and how warm you’d be, and how good you’d taste. And I’d fall asleep, and you’d be there, naked, and gorgeous, with your thighs wrapped around my head and your fingers in my hair, and I’d feel you press your pussy up against—”

“Don’t call it that,” she interrupts with a grimace, because she hates that word, she really does, and he’d had her going there for a second, with his teasing touches and all his words about how much he wants her. But that word, ugh, that word is like a bucket of cold water.

“No?”

“No,” she tells him firmly. “Immediate mood-killer.”

Robin makes a face, like he’s making a mental note, and nods, that teasing thumb sliding down, over her clit (she moans softly), down, inside her for a moment (her teeth sink into her lip), and then back out and up as he amends to, “I’d feel you press all of this up against my mouth, feel you grind against me and tell me how close you were, how good it felt. How I was making you come.”

She hopes he’ll take another pass down, but he doesn’t, his fingertips just swirl low on her belly and call up a smattering of goosebumps as he continues, “And I’d wake up hard as a bloody stone, and have to jerk off to the thought of you.”

He’s barely even touching her, and her clit is starting to throb. She needs him to touch it again, to lick it like he did before, to suck her in the way he had and rub his tongue against her. But he’s not done riling her up, apparently.

No, he’s letting his hand skim down, fingers tracing shivery paths down the soft skin between her thighs, but not touching her anywhere she needs him to, as he tells her, “And now here I am, finally, wide awake and between your gorgeous legs, and it’s even better than the dreams. And I want to take my time enjoying it. I want a good and proper taste of you, Regina, now that we’re not at risk of being interrupted by napping children, or arriving parents, or ill-timed roommates. So I want to make you wet. Very wet.”

Oh. Well, then. Well done.

Regina swallows heavily, and Robin keeps talking, and keeps touching.

He tells her, “I want to taste you here,” and lets his fingertip skim down the center of her. “Give you a good lick, and suck all along here” —that fingertip runs up one of her inner lips, and then down the other side— “and here. Want to sink my tongue in here—”

He lets that questing finger slide into her – and it goes in easily, because he has made her wet, very wet. Just like he wanted. But it’s a move that seems to backfire just a little as he realizes how effective he’s been, his eyes dropping shut as he mutters a soft, “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” she asks lowly, seizing the upper hand where she can – he’s not the only one who can tease, right?

“Incredible,” he tells her, opening his eyes again, but not before she’s snuck a hand down to wrap around his wrist. She draws his hand out, up, and he scowls a little at her, before his jaw goes slack as he realizes her intent.

Regina grins and brings that damp finger to her mouth, sucking it in slowly, then pulling back with a little hum, and a, “Tastes good too.”

The groan he lets out is rough and hot, his brow falling to her thigh for a moment as he mutters into her skin, “That was not kind.”

She laughs lightly, a little harder when he scoots himself up and reaches for her, grasping behind her neck and pulling her in for a kiss. She presses her tongue in against his, and Robin moans at the flavor of her on her own tongue, muttering, “Cheater, you are such a cheater,” and kissing her again, hard.

She tips her head down after a breathless moment, and gasps, “Go down on me. Now. Please.”

He groans and smacks a kiss on her lips— “That” —her collar— “was not” —her cotton-covered stomach— “at all” —the smooth skin of her belly— “fair.”

And then he grasps her hips and runs his tongue up her sex in one broad lick, and Regina lets out a contented moan, and sighs, “But it worked.”

“Cheater,” he mutters again before giving her clit a swirling lick – one that has Regina’s fingers sliding into his hair once more. He does it again, then runs his tongue down and sinks it into her, licking around her opening in firm circles that have her toes curling.

Here To Help - Spencer Reid

Part 1

Spencer x Reader

Summary: A case hits home for a member of the BAU team and none of the others know why or how to help.


Reaching out you took the coffee that the woman had made up for you. ‘Thank you’ You smiled at her and she nodded. Spencer groaned from beside you. ‘Why do they always have yours finished first’ You giggled and reached out patting his shoulder. ‘They like me better’ He just rolled his eyes at you but smiled after when you began to laugh. 

This was a morning routine for you and Spencer, you would both meet up at this little coffee shop which was about a five minute walk from your house to get your morning coffee and you and him would take the train to work together. The team of course knew something was up between you two, whatever it was it was something more than the friendship you two portrayed. You certainly felt something for the genius, but it was forbidden between co-workers.

You watched Spencer as his order was called out and he made his way to the counter to pick it up. A smile played on your lips as you watched him interact awkwardly with the woman who reached out and touched his arm with a smile. Spencer was smart enough to know she was flirting, just not as well versed with people to know how to say no, even though you had told him almost twenty times.

He turned hastily to you readjusting his bag a small blush on his cheeks. ‘What did she say today goodlooking?’ You chuckled using the woman’s nickname for the genius. That made him blush even harder. ‘Said she’d like to see me by here more often, perhaps when she wasn’t working’ You let out a stark laugh at that and reached out. you threaded your hand through Spencer’s bent one and gripped his elbow. ‘Oh, my genius. Forever the chick magnet’ You giggled when he gave you an unimpressed look before opening the door for you both.

You sat next to Spencer on the train as you read over a book he had recommended. It was interesting, sure, just not something you normally read. But Spencer had been so excited when he had brought it to work one day and handed it to you telling you that it was one of the best books he had read in a while and he thought you would like it. So you were reading it. But unfortunately for you this morning you couldn’t concentrate on it.

Snapping the book closed you turned in your seat. Your hand immediately found Spencer’s knee. ‘Speak’ You ordered softly and he looked up at you his eyebrows furrowed. He sighed. ‘She’s been trying to get a date with me for a month’ He muttered. ‘Why? I’m just another customer who comes into the café, I thought it was her personality but she doesn’t act that way with any other men’ You almost rolled your eyes at him. ‘Well, Spence, maybe she just has good taste in men. A genius who works for the FBI, carries a gun, and is super kind, sweet, loyal. Incredibly tall and very handsome’ you shrugged. ‘What’s not to like boy wonder?’ You chuckled

Even though you were actually the same age as Spencer, Garcia’s name for him had rubbed off on you. Spencer sat watching you his lips slightly parted and his eyes focused solely on you. ‘What?’ You raised an eyebrow with a soft smile. ‘Is that really how you see me?’ He asked softly blinking. You just shrugged. ‘Well, among other things, yeah, that’s just a few’ You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as Spencer continued to look at you. 

Just as you were about to ask him why he was still looking at you like that the train began to slow down. ‘This is our stop’ You gathered your things and stood. ‘Come on genius’ You smiled down at him and he blinked coming out of whatever state he was in to smile, really widely, back up at you before handing you your coffee he ha been holding so you could read.

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camshaft22  asked:

17. Rant about McCoy please.

my sweet child.

I feel so bad for him because he is often maligned in fandom. and I totally know why. so often in TOS the writers just…used him, basically, as a prop to further the plot. they have him do and say unethical things that last week’s writer (with a better grasp of McCoy’s character) never would have made him do. but he’s just trying so hard to do the right thing and save everyone against all odds even though it seems like the universe is constantly inventing new ways to endanger everything he holds dear (and I just watched Wrath of Khan, and his utter despair at Genesis as yet another thing that could be used for senseless harm was so real). and I keep coming back to how he’s always trying to get everyone around him to open up, to be safe, to take care of themselves. not just Spock, but Jim as well. he’s always scanning him and prodding at him and bringing him drinks and then flat-out demanding he share his feelings. he does that for both Jim and Spock and it’s very interesting, especially the way he pulls back and folds into himself whenever he pushes them too far. he’s precious. and the cute way he sits in chairs. I know that picture of him sitting like a nerd in Galileo 7 always makes the rounds, but he sits like that all the time. one leg over the arm of the chair, the other stuck out and propped up on something if he can manage it. he sits like a cowboy. and for all that he tries to get everyone around him to open up and Be Healthy, Dammit, he’s really the worst offender. he has a habit of saying the right thing too late. he does it to Spock as he goes off to die (good luck, spock) and he does it to Jim when age is catching up with him (sorry). both times his friends are too far away to hear his quiet, pleading words that took too long to find the courage to say. 

Love Letter Event-Reinhardt

This was definitely something Reinhardt would have done in his youth. But now he was old and he never thought he’d be doing this again at his age. But that was what he liked about you. You made him feel young again in a sort of spunky, pure way. Charging into battle alongside you made him feel as energized as he did in Overwatch’s old days. Even some of his comrades pointed out that he tended to perform better when you were around.

In his glory days, he would have followed up all his flirts with a love letter. It always sounded like a cute way to confess to him, but he never found the right person back then.  But now that he was in his sixties, he found himself hesitant to write the letter. Should he really try for a relationship at his age? Didn’t he pass his prime and overall chance for love a long time ago? Still, he had already gotten the fine paper and ball-point pen out, so it was a little late to turn back. Sighing, he began the letter, his big hands writing each word carefully.

              Dearest [Name],

He stopped there, already second-guessing himself. Did that sound too straight forward? He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and continued reluctantly.

              First off, you look as beautiful as always today. I can’t see what you’ll look like when you read this, but I know you will look pretty all the same. The only thing that can match your beauty is your valor and bravery. I admire your courage as you charge into the fray as fierce as a lion/lioness! I’ve enjoyed fighting by your side since the recall, but over time, I’ve come to see you as more as a comrade.

              When we’re in the heat of a fight, you’re always on my mind! I’m not sure if you feel the same way, after all, I’m old enough to be your father. But my father once said, “besser spät als nie!” Or, “better late than never.” I never had anyone special in my life when I was younger, and I hope I can still have a chance at love even at my age.

              But if you finish this letter and don’t feel anything for me other than comradery, then just forget all about this. Crumple up this note and throw it away if you must and I will never speak of this to you ever again! But if you do feel the same way…you will make me happier than I have in many years.”

              –Reinhardt

Rein sighed, falling back in his chair and letting his arms hang by his sides. He didn’t even realize he had been holding his breath that whole time. He double checked the letter for spelling, then folded it neatly and sealed it with wax and the Crusader sigil. He held the paper gently in his fingers, carefully running his finger up and down the edge. This one message held the last hope this old many had for love. He poured all his desperate pleas and prayers into it before walking over to the armory. He found your specialized suit of armor, and tucked the letter between one of the armor plates. He stood there for a few moments, letting out the last of his quiet prayers, before tearing himself away. Now his heart was in your hands and he hoped you wouldn’t break it.

(He’d probably be the most nervous about this.)

howl, part 2

Pairing: The Joker (Leto) x Reader
Rating: M (for some violence and mild torture)
Words: 1280
Requested by: Anonymous
Summary: The Joker doesn’t mind spilling a little blood to get back what’s been stolen from him. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about torturing a pretty young woman for information. But this time? This time will be different.

Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
I want to find you, tear out all of your tenderness

PART ONE

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: AU version of realizations where Jason can transform into a dragon/is a dragon and Tim is his partner/rider. Bonus points if they are fighting off Ra's invading ninjas

I realized after the fact that you said Ra’s and I used Talia instead. Please forgive my mistake. I hope you enjoy this anyway!


         The first thing that Tim realized when in battle with Jason was how fiercely the dragon tried to protect his rider. He swerved through lines of Talia’s ninjas, performing flips and loops and twists, anything to prevent their arrows from hitting Tim.

           It was unnecessary, and likely would have lessened their effectiveness if Jason didn’t love the burn in his chest so much when using his fire breath. They were taking out legions in mere minutes, turning their weapons to ashes before soaring out of reach.

           If nothing else, they wanted to make sure that Talia al Ghul would regret the day she underestimated Gotham.

           They knew that Bruce had kept his protégée secret for a reason such as this, in which someone would underestimate them in battle. A dragon without a rider wasn’t much up against a well-trained army. When in dragon form one retreated into their more basic instincts, choosing to flee instead of fight if the odds were too big for them alone. With a bonded rider though a dragon was the most powerful weapon one could have.

           Jason landed at the top of a down, a few miles from the high walls of Gotham. The fields around them were in cinders, bodies on charred earth still smoldering in the rising sun. In the distance, by the sea, Tim could watch the progress of a thunderous battle. Dick handled Bruce with practiced ease, looking so miniscule aback such a massive black dragon. Talia had set her own son upon them, a small, dark green thing near feral in his anger. It was a test of his agility against Bruce’s strength. In such a duel, there wasn’t much that Tim or Jason could do. Instead, they would make sure that, no matter the outcome, there would be none of Talia’s soldiers left to touch their home.

           Tim reached down to pat Jason’s shoulder. The cracks between his glimmering red scales glowed orange upon his next inhale, but all he did was blow smoke out of his nose. When Tim leaned over a bit he could see some lucky arrows that had made it into the spaces between Jason’s natural armor. Blood dripped down the length of the arrows, but Tim knew that if he pulled them out now he would only make it worse. He would have to talk to Jason about taking unnecessary risks from now on, when he was no longer being ruled by his hindbrain and Tim’s subtle cues. He had never expected Jason’s protective streak to manifest so strongly in his dragon form.

           It would have to happen later though, when the reign of the Black Dragon was no longer under question. Tim pulled gently at Jason’s reigns, prompting him back towards the battle.

           “Come on, we still have work to do.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

           The first thing that Jason realized upon waking up back in his human mind was that Tim hadn’t left his side once while he was injured. Despite his brain functioning at a lower level while in his other form, he lost none of his memories. He remembered being struck by arrows at first, nothing more than a mild inconvenience, and worth the pain to protect his rider. As he had gotten bolder though, gotten closer to their enemy, they had been able to reach him with javelins, heavy enough that they could lodge into him.

           He had taken that pain too, had fought through it in order to protect what he held dear. They had won, and it had been worth it.

           He remembered Bruce’s triumphant roar as he had struck his challenger down. He remembered victory swelling in his chest at the sight of the retreating backs of the last few dozen of Talia’s ninjas. He remembered finally collapsing a few feet from the castle, and Tim’s panicked wail of his name. Tim didn’t cry, it was something Jason had long accepted of his partner’s nature, but he remembered Tim cradling Jason’s snout in his arms, the length of it nearly half of Tim’s body.

           With severe enough injuries it wasn’t safe to shift back into human form, the process only making them worse. Thus, Jason was forced to spend days as his other, laid out in the cave. Bruce was in much the same state, though he was large enough that Dick could lay atop his head and still not disturb him while he rested. Tim instead liked to curl up at the juncture of Jason’s head and neck, just barely within Jason’s sight and close enough for snout scratches whenever he got restless.

           Days later, Jason found himself back in his own bed, his wounds rebandaged to fit his smaller size, though the wrappings were mostly so that he wouldn’t mess with them. Tim was in a chair at his bedside, tipped over so that he could rest his folded arms on Jason’s bed, his face buried in the crook of his elbow as he slept.

           Always somehow magically attuned to his partner, Tim blinked his eyes open not long after Jason. Tim graced him with a sleepy smile.

           “Why are you all the way over there?” Jason complained.

           “Hm?” Tim answered eloquently, still not entirely awake. Jason just pushed back the covers and pulled Tim onto the bed, nestling the smaller boy into his warmth. Normally Tim liked to curl up on his chest, closest to Jason’s natural heat. Being mindful of the bandages though he instead snuggled into Jason’s side, his head resting on his partner’s shoulder.

           “I’m mad at you, you know,” Tim informed him casually around a yawn.

           “What?” Jason practically squawked. “What’d I do this time?”

           “You took unnecessary risks that resulted in multiple injuries that could have been avoided. In battle your job isn’t to protect me, Jason, it’s to work in tandem with me as a team. Bruce trained us better than that.”

           Jason scoffed. “I can’t help what my hindbrain tells me to do, Timber, you know that.”

           Before he could react, Tim’s hand came up to bop him on the nose. “I also know that you have more control than that, even as a dragon.”

           “Ah! I’m wounded!” Jason crowed. “Emotionally, physically, and presently. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

           Tim simply snorted and snuggled closer. It was then that Jason noticed the bandage wrapped around his bicep where an arrow had gotten him. Jason swallowed. It was proof of his failure.

           “You’re just so small, especially when I’m big,” he admitted quietly. “You can get hurt, you can die, so much easier. It drives me crazy.”

           “And when you’re bigger you take more stupid risks, so we’re really in the same boat, aren’t we?” Tim countered.

           Jason pressed his lips to Tim’s forehead, more a comfort than a kiss. “I don’t know if I can stop,” he whispered.

           “You’ll sure as hell have to try. Bruce will have us back in training for weeks once we’re well enough.” Tim chuckled at Jason’s groan. “Go to sleep, Jason. You need rest.” Tim ordered, and if there was anything Jason was good at it was following Tim’s commands.

Love at First Note

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Stony

For: Stony Bingo Round Two fill

Prompt: Secret Admirer

Summary: (PART 1/3) Tony got a note! Finally! Wait. What if it was Justin being mean to him? Tony no longer wanted to chance a look. Tony studied the badly folded paper in his hands studying it. “Why don’t you take a look, Anthony?” his teacher smiled warmly at him after bending down to be eye level with him. Tony looked at his teacher’s encouraging face before opening the folds of the paper with shaking hands.

Notes: the first two parts of this fill are Tony and Steve in Kindergarten. The eiplogue or last part is their wedding. There is a cute fluffy fic. I had fun writing this! Enjoy

Other Locations: on AO3


Tony was five. The smartest five-year-old in the world according to his mama and his mama was always right. Still, it was hard being too smart for his age. No one liked Tony much. The only friends he had could be counted on one hand, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy and Bruce. Though a lot of times he felt like he was forcing himself on them. He was not much fun. Not really. But he does buy them a lot of gifts. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep them around. They were the bestest and most fun group of people. Tony did not need anyone else! It just hurt that he was alone in his kindergarten class until after twelve when Tony, along with Bruce, heads to big kid school where he spends his time with his friends.

Though, lately, Tony has been bluer than normal. His teacher had started the anonymous compliment baggies this quarter and everyone got something except Tony. It had been two weeks and not a single compliment was paid. Tony had given many of his classmates compliments in hope of getting something but this activity seemed to cement how much his peers did not like him. At least Bruce in the next class over got some notes which made Tony happy. If he could he would give Bruce his own notes but the teacher specified only to compliment their classmates.

                                               (beware mobile users)

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Neverland (15/?)

Summary: The Fakes hate Gemini. They’re a vicious, cut-throat crew who go against everything the FAHC stand for. But when a bigger, badder threat comes along, Michael and Ryan are forced to team up with Gavin - Gemini’s mastermind thief - to take down a common enemy.

The two of them are determined not to get too close - but living together in a small safe house, it’s hard to hide all the ways that you’re broken.

all major content warnings at the start of part 1

Part 1  Part 14  AO3

xxvi. first impressions

Michael hears about the Vagabond long before he meets him. The whole damn country must know the name - his kills make headlines and the world is desperate to figure out the identity of the masked mercenary who’s quickly becoming one of the most feared men in the country. Even if he only kills criminals, even if he has no record of other crimes, the path he’s making down the East coast has each city trembling when it’s reported he’s arrived within their streets.

And then he comes to Achievement City.

And then Geoff fucking hires him.

“This is a bad idea,” Michael tells him, voice very stiff - Geoff doesn’t know much about Michael’s past, won’t understand why the news headlines, the leaked crime scene photos of blood and offal, make his stomach churn and his heart beat too fast and childhood nightmares claw their way back to the surface of his mind. “He’s violent, he’s volatile - he’s not like us.”

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malia

personally, I don’t see them as the OTP that will eventually have a child. It’s not outside of the realm of possibility, yes, but for me I don’t see that as end game for them.

That being said, it’s not bad to imagine…

In her very long life, she had seen many, many things. She’s seen monarchs fall, castles erode, villains love, heroes stumble, and magic overflow. She’s seen stars collide, streak across the night sky. She’s seen the sun turn red with spilt blood, the sky grey with mourning. She’s seen children, used and abandoned, grow strong of their own volition. At this point, she was sure that she has seen everything, and despite herself, she was sure that nothing could ever surprise her anymore.

But again, she finds herself always pleasantly surprised.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry so scared.”

She looks at her daughter, at her sterile white apron, and she smiles.

“Where is he?” she asks. Jane pointed to a corner where Harry is standing, sitting, then pacing around, fingers running through his hair, trusty hook catching on the leather folds of his coat. He looks a frazzled mess, like any expectant father should, but observing him now, she could see exactly what Jane meant by scared.

When she makes her way to him, he glances up at her with unfocused eyes.

“She’s doing pretty well.” She reports. Harry breathes out a heavy sigh, laced with pure anxiety and just like a puppet whose strings have been cut, he slumps back in his seat, exhaustion written all over his face.

She takes the empty chair next to him.

“Me mum died, you know.”

It’s a quiet admission, so soft she, for a moment, thinks she imagined it. But she looks at him and sees his baby blue eyes cast toward the ground, electric and a little wet and she doesn’t take his hand, but she puts one on his shoulder.

“Father went fuckin’ nuts after.” he continues, barely above a whisper. His grip on his hook tightens, knuckles sickly white. “He drank every day ‘til he couldn’t see straight. Never bothered with the babe. Some wench on my father’s crew had to be the one to take care of her– named her CJ, even. I couldn’t–” He hissed, a sharp intake of breath. “I couldn’t even look at 'er.”

She squeezes his shoulder. “That was so long ago.”

Harry laughs, bitter and sharp. “Not to me.”

They settle into silence once more, heavy and suffocating. She sits with him throughout, hand on his shoulder, eyes trained to the same spot on the floor. Beneath her touch, she can feel the faintest of trembles.

It’s awhile before he speaks.

“We never… We never thought we’d get this far.” He says, looking up to the ceiling as his hands go slack, the hook now dangling haphazardly from his fingers. “On the isle, people didn’t get hitched. No one got attached. They could be used against ya. I knew a lass– one of Ursula’s grubby cooks, she was– she and her brood were the happiest to ever live in that wretched place. One day, she came home, as you do, after a day scavenging fer food, and her da–”

He stops, and scrubs a hand, roughly, against the stubble that grows on the cut of his jaw.

“Her da and her mum and her little brothers– all of them, offed by those goblins that run around. They used hatchets. There were guts everywhere.”

She winces. But her hand stays on his shoulder.

“Uma and I– we were thirteen when that happened. We never talked about it, outright. But…” Here, he looks up and meets her eyes. “It stuck.”

She doesn’t reply– she holds his gaze, instead. It’s been so long since she’d last seen Harry Hook roam the halls of Auradon prep. The man sitting before her now is a certified first mate of the kingdom’s largest navy fleet. But underneath the sterile, fluorescent lights, hunched over and scared and hurting and frightened, the man before her looks less like a man, and more like the boy he was never allowed to be.

She wants to embrace him. She stops herself.

“You’re not on the Isle, anymore.” She says.

Harry shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any difference.” He insists, turning away to look at the curtain that separates him from his sleeping captain. “Godmother, the fear I felt there everyday is the fear I feel now. The grief. The pain. I feel it.” He hisses again, low and long. Then, he jabs his own chest with his thumb. Once. Twice. “Here. Right here.

"And I thought– I thought after we got out… I thought maybe it’d all go away.”

There’s a bitter laugh in his voice, swift and heavy, like the breath had been knocked out of him with a painful kick to the stomach. She gives his shoulder another squeeze.

As if prompted, he looks back at her and tries to smile.

“I might fuck up with this kid.” He says, voice wavering. “Fair warning.”

She can’t help it. She laughs.

“Love is…” She starts, thinking for a moment. “How do you youngsters say it?”

“Fuckin’ bonkers?”

“Exhilarating.”

Harry blinks. Then, with a small nod, says; “Aye. Something like that.”

“Mom–”

They look up at Jane, who has her head poking out of the sterile curtains separating them from Uma.

“Mom, it’s starting.”

A thrill runs through her, jolting her hand off Harry’s shoulder. Still, she keeps her composure and nods. “Give us a minute.”

When she disappears behind the curtain again, she turns back to her charge.

“You look sea sick.” She says, gently.

Harry swallows, thick. “What do I do?”

Fairy Godmother has seen many things in her long, long life– fear, pain, sorrow, the dawn and the happiness it brings. All of these, she sees now, swimming in Harry’s baby blue eyes, wide with trepidation, haunted with memories of places too terrible to name.

And love. So much love she thinks he could drown in it.

(He already has.)

She reaches for his shoulder. Squeezes it once more.

“Well,” she grins. “I think you know.”

A few hours later, the room is quiet, save for the steady beeps of the monitor in the corner and the baby…

The baby is a girl, swaddled in thick fleece blankets, dwarfed in Harry’s arms.

“Malia.” Uma breathes, tired but happy and full of awe.

Harry strokes the child’s cheek, gentle and reverent. He kisses Uma’s forehead.

“You did it, love.” He whispers, so soft, no one else hears. “Malia. Our little lass.”

But Fairy Godmother does, the words echoing with so much affection in the caverns of her ears. Harry smiles down at the babe, who yawns, and in the deepest parts of her soul she knows that he would not withhold any part of himself from his precious child.

She leaves the new parents be, slipping out of the room and walking down the hall with a spring in her step.

She has seen many things. But she never, ever gets tired of seeing a heart welcome another into its arms.

Doctor- Positive Thinking *Andy Biersack Imagine*

Dr. Biersack had called you in today for yet another therapy session. You weren’t super fond of these because he usually made you do something “creative” or “expressive”. It wasn’t your thing. You told him time and time again that you weren’t into his little activities, yet he insisted that he knew it would help you out in the best way possible.

You sat in his office, slumped in the chair with your arms folded as ususal. This was going to be the longest hour and a half of your life, you could just feel it. All he did was talk, and talk, and talk. Did he ever shut up? Even for a second?

In the midst of your internal crisis, Dr. Biersack enters his office, greeting you with his perfect smile, as if he were truly happy to see you. He made you hot from the inside, your heart hammered the inside of your ribcage, fluttering your stomach. He always brought this fuzzy, nervous feeling out of you, which made you sick.

“Hi, (y/n)! I’m glad you’re here!” He places a file onto his desk full of papers. He slips off his jacket, setting it around the back of his chair and sits in front of you, opening the folder to flip to a new page.

“Do we have to spend the entire time doing this?” You ask, irritation present in your voice.

“Yes we do. I thought you liked this part of the day, you know, where we get to talk and stuff?”

You shrug “Hmmm.”

Ouch. That hurt Andy a little. Out of everyone he saw in a day, you were easily the one he looked forward to seeing the most. He could have sworn you loved being in his office with him, talking about your week and little things that make you feel better. Andy tried not to feel too burned by your denial and shrugged it off, assuming that it was your medication that caused you to feel a little agitated.

“Okay, well, what I want to do today is have you tell me some things about yourself.”

“Like always.”

“Yes, but let me finish,” He slips a sheet of paper over to you, handing over a pen with it. “I want you to write down three words you associate yourself with. Positive ones, that is.

“Oh my god…” You say to yourself. You really, really, weren’t in the mood for this. “Why? Can’t you help me?”

“Alright, fine. To make it fair, I’ll give you one word to start, and you have to come up with the other two, got it?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“The first positive word I associate with you is Pretty.”

It almost feels as time has stopped when those words escape his mouth. Did he really say that?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do. You’re quite lovely, as I always say"

Andy truly did find you to be very, very, beautiful. He held off on telling you because it would seem inappropriate. He was a staff member, your doctor, who should be the one to help improve your wellness, not hit on you. But, it was too late. He had planned for some time how he would begin to show you a more gentle approach to things, to see how you’d react to it. Maybe this could be the way to do it.

“Are you comfortable with me calling you gorgeous?” He asks.

“What?!” You scrunch your nose at him. What was he on about? Is this another one of his weird experiments?

“Listen, I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that to you, (y/n). Forgive me.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

“Nevermind that now, (y/n), give me two more words and we can talk some more.”

“What will we talk about, Doctor? Can we talk about how gorgeous you think I am? Or how I catch you staring at me sometimes. You’re a pervert, aren’t you, doctor?”

Andy’s face goes red in embarrassment. You were his patient! He wouldn’t dare think of you in that way, it’s wrong and very, very, against policy. He could be terminated, put under investigation, and even face jail time for an accusation like that.

“Miss (Y/N) that is untrue! Where would you get such an idea?!”

“Why else would you want to be alone with me in an office for an hour and a half every day?“

"Because you are my patient and it is my job to provide you with proper treatment. There will be no more talk of this, understood?”

“Ugh… why?! Why are you so strict and uptight?”

“You know why, (y/n). I could get in a lot of trouble for treating you as anything more than my patient. I could lose my job, my license, or even worse.” Andy took his glasses off, setting them on the desk’s smooth cherry wood top, fidgeting with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I know that isn’t fair to you.”

You fold your arms, then make your way to the door to leave. “I bet it would be different if I weren’t crazy, right?” You mumble.

“(Y/N), that isn’t true. I don’t think that of you, I never would.”

“So if you wouldn’t get in trouble, would you treat me different?”

Andy sat back in his chair, caught up in your questioning words. He had never seen you as more than his favorite patient. He didn’t think of you in a negative light at all. In fact, he was sure that you were very much able to regain stability. His mind traveled a bit into new, uncharted territory; what would it be like if he didn’t know you as an inpatient? Could he see you as friends? Colleagues? Something more? It was a blury vision for now, but something told him he’d have an idea or two very soon. The thing he liked about you was you always made him think. Well, think about you, of course. He wanted to pick you apart and help you understand yourself. The thing is, he wasn’t too prepared for you to do the same to him.

Tease

Pairing: Steve x reader

Summary: Steve Rogers was an innocent bunny. His innocence was what made him your best target to embarrass or tease. it was your favourite game until he decided to no longer play the victim.

Author’s Note: it was so fun to write. I always love Steve being an innocent angel while all the others try to ‘corrupt’ him, I just love it. The only hard part was righting the heated up scene(I am still red). I was giggling all the time while writing this. The reader’s power is fire manipulation. Hope you like it!

Warnings: inappropriate jokes, flirting(?)

Word Count: 1480

Originally posted by luvinchris

Steve rogers; the innocent golden retriever puppy and the butt of all the avengers’ dirty jokes.

It all began when you were all relaxing and drinking and tony decided to play a game of never have I ever. The game heated up quickly and became the filthiest game of never have I ever.

‘never have I ever done it with handcuffs.’ Clint said in a slurred voice.

Natasha, Bucky and Tony were the ones to sip their drinks. You were just grinning when you noticed Steve’s bright crimson face.

‘what’s wrong with you Stevie? You grinned and folded your arms. He looked up from the drink he was holding as he muttered something.

‘first time’s always a shocker.’ Tony said and the room was filled with drunk giggles.

‘that’s it.’ Steve got up and left the room.

From then on, it became your favourite time pass; making Captain America blush.

You were walking in the kitchen, it was around 4p.m so you thought of getting a fruit as a snack. You saw Steve and Bucky chatting by the counter. A plate of fruits with a knife kept neatly was what grabbed your attention. It had two bananas and you had an idea to embarrass Steve. You got a big banana and walked towards them.

‘hey,Steve,’ you said and they both turned to look at you. ‘mine’s bigger.’ You waved the banana in his face. He looked confused for a few seconds until he got your reference. A pink smudge appeared on his face. Bucky smiled a little before grabbing one himself.

‘mine’s the biggest!’ he held it up in the air with a dramatic proud look on his face. Steve felt a heat rise to his face.

‘why do you have to do that!’ he walked out stomping his feet. You both busted in laughter seeing his childish reaction.

The other time something like this happened was when he was sitting peacefully with newspaper and a good cup of coffee. Bucky and Sam were having a whisper fight in the background but he couldn’t care any less. He was finally serene.

‘great day, great coffee, no worries.’ he sighed out of relief as he looked around. ‘I wonder where’s-’ his thoughts were interrupted when he saw you walk in. Normally, he would just smile and glance at you while you returned it but today was different.

You were wearing shorts and a top with a very deep neck which wasn’t something you would usually wear. All three of them looked at you with varying expressions of shock. Sam and Bucky stopped arguing, Bucky’s jaw hung down while Sam’s eyes grew wide. Sam recovered from the shock and whistled as you walked were all of them were sitting. You smiled brightly and took a seat opposite Steve.

‘what’s with the sudden change (y/n)?’ Sam folded his arms.

‘why? Do I look bad?’ you pouted.

‘no, you look hot.’ Buck closed his mouth. ‘It’s just that it’s a very sudden change.’ he ran a hand through his hair.

You noticed Steve’s expression. His grip of the newspaper had become tighter; his eyes were wide and never left the sight of you. you smirked and decided to do something.

‘what’s with you Steve? have I made you uncomfortable?’ you looked at him innocently while you leaned towards him.

‘what?’ he looked dazed. ‘no! no, I, um, you-you look great!’ he tried to cover up as he tore his eyes away from you. Bucky and Sam tried to stifle their laughter. You leaned a little more forward giving him a full view of your cleavage.

‘really? You seem to look a little too red. Do you have a fever?’ you touched his forehead and his breath hitched. your plan was working. ‘you know what?’ you moved back in your seat. ‘they don’t talk.’ You kept a hand on your chest.

  ‘I-I wasn’t looking at your-, you know.’ He moved his hands violently trying to explain himself. Sam and bucky were almost rolling on the floor seeing his state. He glared at them but it only made them laugh more.

 ‘I hate you.’ he covered his face and groaned. You moved near him and bent down to his face.

‘you love me.’ You whispered in his ear and walked out of the room.

 Only if you knew what sensations had you ignited in him by just that very comment. he saw how you left the room bouncing a little at every step.

‘she’s going to be the death of me.’ He breathed.

‘hell yeah.’ Bucky straightened up in his chair while Sam was still giggling.

‘she surely knows her ways,’ Sam wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘I mean damn, she seduced Captain fucking America.’

‘that’s not my name.’ Steve folded his arms and glared.

He was finally getting tired of this game you were playing with him. he may be ‘innocent’ but he wasn’t clueless. he couldn’t take your teasing anymore so, he simply took a step on the right time.

All others were on a mission or busy somewhere else. It was just you and Steve in the tower that night. You were lying on your bed listening to your favourite song, occasionally making fireballs in the air. The song didn’t seem all that interesting anymore, you took your headphones off and sat up. You were thinking of what to do until the thought of Steve popped in your mind.

‘just what I need.’ You thought and headed out to find him.

He knew you would come to him sooner or later. He just waited patiently. He was completing a charcoal drawing until the little sheet of paper he was using to protect the drawing from smudging flew out of the gate. He had just gotten up to pick it until he saw you already standing there.

‘miss me sugar?’ you smiled and winked. he felt the heat rise to his cheeks again that only you could make him feel. He realized what he was doing and straightened up.

‘actually, yes.’ he leaned on the door by one shoulder. You were taken aback. Was he flirting back? You shook your head and decided to continue for this new side of him intrigued you.

‘looking for something?’ you quirked your brows and he nodded. ‘this?’ you pointed at the little piece of paper tucked in your tank top’s strap.

‘mhm, can I have it back?’ he moved his hand towards it but you took a step back.

‘no hands, Mr. Rogers.’ You gave him a cheeky grin.

‘alright, then.’ He leant down to your level. He stayed near your neck for a few second making your breathing uneven. he gently pulled the paper out, brushing his lips against the skin of your shoulder. He took it and waved it at you in a teasing manner.

‘won’t ask me in?’ you pulled yourself together.

‘of course, come in.’ he opened the gate wider and followed you in. you stood in his room admiring the drawings scattered around.

‘these are great.’ You examined them.

‘thanks.’ He smiled.

‘you wanna know the main reason why I came here?’ you turned to him and he replied in affirmative.

‘I was seeing this movie the other day and I don’t know why, but it’s very intimidating when someone does this.’ You pushed him lightly to a wall and kept both your hands on the wall near either sides of his head. You both locked eyes with each other before he broke the silence.

‘doll, I think you missed something.’ He spun you around and got you in the same position. ‘it’s the guy who does it.’ He smirked.

‘what’s gotten into you?’ you breathed.

‘well, let’s just say I got, very tired of all this.’ He mumbled as he closed the distance between you. ‘do you know how I feel when you do all these things to me?’ you could feel his breath on your face. ‘I am just left craving for more. I just want to touch you.’ his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked to your lips. ’would you slap me if I kiss you?’ he tilted his head slightly.

You rolled your eyes and captured his lips as you pulled him by his collar. He wasn’t lying, you could feel how much he craved you by the way he kissed you. you pulled back while he looked like he wanted more.

‘aww, was I that bad?’ you teased him as you folded your arms.

‘no, I just wanted it to last longer. It was… fun’ he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You moved back and he gave you a confused look.

‘take me on a date first, then, we can do much more fun stuff.’ You ran thumb on his cheekbone. ‘deal?’ you quirked your brows.

‘deal.’ He smirked and tightened his grip around you.

Just A Holy Fool

I was wondering if you could possibly write an imagine where reader is Lady Gagas backup dancer for Judas and Norman starts to notice this girl and eventually asks her out near the end of the shoot? I think he’s pretty hot on the music video 😍

I kinda wanna make a part 2 out of this…or a full series out of this…Norman is adorable and I love this one shot haha! Let me know what you think!


It wasn’t exactly thrilling waking up at four in the morning to get to set but then again it was definitely thrilling to be in Lady Gaga’s new music video. Sure, you were just a backup dancer but you would be showing everyone you knew this video for years to come. And there was an added bonus. An actor from that new TV show, The Walking Dead would be in it. You hadn’t had much of a chance to watch it since you were too busy constantly working but you knew Norman Reedus from other movies and TV shows he’d done in the past. However, it was important that you didn’t get star struck and make a fool out of yourself. If you had any plans at all of making it in this industry, you had to play it cool with everyone you met even if they were huge stars.

The warm coffee was doing nothing to wake you up as you arrived on set, your backpack heavy on your tired shoulders. The sun wasn’t even up yet. You loved your job but god, getting up at four o’clock in the morning was rough sometimes.

You were taken to the make-up trailers where dozens of backup dancers and extras were getting their make-up and hair done and a majority of them were looking much more energized than you did right now.

“Morning!” one of the make-up artists exclaimed cheerfully, “My name’s Gayle. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you replied, “Sorry you don’t get a more chipper person to slap some make-up on.”

“I know it’s early but it’ll be a really fun shoot,” Gayle replied. The two of you made small talk while she fixed your hair and applied your make-up and halfway through, the coffee kicked in and you were much more awake now, laughing with Gayle and the other extras. You were ready to get going and give it your best.

Once Gayle was finished, you got up and headed for wardrobe. You walked a little quicker and held your head up higher now that you were fully awake. As you opened the door to exit the trailer, you bumped into a firm body, which knocked you back more than it knocked the other person back.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, a tight grip on the stranger’s forearm to keep your balance. You looked up to look at who you just bumped into and now had a hold of their arm and you were stunned at the pair of dark blue eyes staring back at you, “Oh shit…you’re…”

“Yeah, I’m Norman,” he chuckled, patting your hand that was still holding onto his arm. He gave you a warm smile, “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“Uh, yeah…yeah totally,” you replied, pulling away from Norman’s arm and folding your hands behind your back, “Seriously sorry about that. I’m like half awake today and I’m on my way to wardrobe and all that and I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” Norman said, “I’ll see you a little later, alright?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping to the side so Norman could go into the make-up trailer, sitting in the chair you had just been sitting in for the last hour. Once you got to wardrobe, they put you in a black sleeveless crop top and black leather pants with a tan scarf, boots, and a headband to match. Finding out you’d be dancing almost right next to Lady Gaga was exciting but also made you a little anxious. What if you screwed up the moves? It was one thing to make a mistake but to make it in front of someone as big as Lady Gaga would be humiliating.


They had started off with a scene that you wouldn’t be in but you got to stand behind the cameras and watch Lady Gaga and the other dancers move gracefully and perfectly. She looked stunning in a red bra with white crosses on each cup and red underwear to match with a sheer red sheet draped over her backside and red booties. The dirt flew up and spread through the air as she and the other dancers danced around, lifting their feet and swaying their hips.

You turned to get a look at all the players involved with the behind the scenes action and caught Norman off to the side staring at you. They’d given him a leather jacket with an unbuttoned shirt underneath, a pair of gloves in his hand. Once he’d been noticed, he quickly turned away, clearing his throat as he put the gloves on, his cheeks quickly turning red.

It took a few takes to get the scenes finished and Lady Gaga was whisked away to change into her wardrobe. Your heart raced as you and the others were gathered together to prepare and practice for your scenes. You wiggled your arms and rolled your neck back and forth.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

“Hey,” Norman’s voice came from behind you and you jumped, letting out a squeal. He pulled back a little and laughed, “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay,” you said, “I’m just a little jumpy.”

“Good luck,” he said, “Don’t be nervous. You’ll do great.”

“You’re sweet,” you replied. Norman beamed and hurriedly walked away to let you finish stretching and mentally preparing yourself. Lady Gaga came back out a few minutes later, switching from an all red outfit to all black. A black bra with a white cross on each cup, a leather jacket, and black underwear with stockings and boots going up to her thighs with a blue bandana wrapped around her forehead.

You were placed at her right and that made you sweat a little. She offered a warm smile and friendly words of encouragement and that made it a little easier to relax but you still needed to focus. The music blared and you followed the rhythm easily, more and more at ease the longer you danced. Norman was standing directly across from you, arms folded across his chest watching you. His expression was extremely difficult to read. Was he impressed? Or were you just screwing up? Regardless, you did multiple takes of the scene until the director was satisfied with what you all had done and you all took a break so Lady Gaga could make yet another costume change.

You were standing with some of the other extras having lunch when you were again approached by Norman, his leather jacket removed but the shirt he had on underneath was still unbuttoned which gave you an even better view of his chest. You tried not to stare too much as the other extras scurried away in a fit of giggles.

“Hey, Y/N,” Norman said, “I hope I haven’t bothered you too much today.”

“You? Bother me?” you laughed, “No way. What’s up?”

“You know we’ve got some scenes together, right?” Norman said.

Fighting the blush in your cheeks was absolutely pointless but that didn’t stop you from trying, “No, I had no idea.”

“Should be fun,” he said, “By the way, you were really good out there. Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Years and years of practice,” you said with a chuckle, “I didn’t know you thought I was good. You looked so serious like I was fucking up or something.”

“No, you were amazing,” Norman said, “You were the best out there.”

“Oh stop,” you said, “I’m not that good.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Norman said. He looked down at his phone and started walking away, “Well, I should get something to eat real quick before we have to start up again. I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you said. It was silly to be this enamored with Norman as you were but you figured you wouldn’t see him again after this shoot was over so a tiny crush wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? You could survive these next few days.


Admittedly, it was a little more complicated than you’d thought on the first day. Over the next week, you watched Norman performing his scenes. Even though his scenes were simple with no actual speaking parts, there was something powerful about his movements and facial expressions. You could watch it all day. Every now and then during his scenes, you’d catch him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. But why would someone like him have any interest in a nobody like you?

The last day brought on the scenes Norman had mentioned that you two would be in together. Norman had one arm wrapped around your shoulder and another arm wrapped around another girl’s shoulder. You were supposed to dance around, throwing your head back and forth, which made Norman and the other girl jostle as he pulled her back and buried his face in the hollow of her throat while she closed her eyes. It sent shivers up your spine watching him with the intensely hungry look in his blue eyes. The girl had gushed about it after the scene was over, telling you how soft his lips had been against her skin and you were burning with jealousy. Again, it was just plain silly to be this jealous. But you couldn’t help yourself. Why couldn’t you be that girl he kissed?


And then came that last scene. You didn’t even know it was happening until the director explained it to you. It would finally be you. Of course, Norman wasn’t going to kiss you like he had the other girl but you would be a lot closer to him than the other girl was. She was a nice girl but you still took it as a small victory.

“Here we go,” you mumbled, “Last day of the shoot. Kinda bummed. Made a lot of friends here.”

“Yeah,” Norman agreed. He opened his mouth to add onto his comment but was interrupted by the director shouting. The music started up and Norman shifted into character, one hand grabbing your arm as you rolled your hips in small circular motions. He stared deeply into your eyes, moving his hand down your cheek to hold onto your shoulder as you lowered a bit and then came back up. Being in his strong arms, standing inches from him, feeling his warmth radiating from his body. You were almost tempted to ruin it and kiss him but you resisted the urged. The scene was still repeated a few times until you got it the way the director wanted it. Norman letting go of you left you empty and disappointed.

“You did great,” Norman said, “Looks like that’s the end of that.”

“Thanks,” you said, “You were great too. Well…guess we should get outta here.”

You pulled the headband off your head and started to walk away. Norman was standing there for a while, ashamed of his hesitance to say anything to you. And you were shocked to realize that your heart was broken, knowing you would never see that handsome man again after today.

With your sunglasses shielding your eyes and a hat covering your sweaty hair, you threw your backpack on over your shoulder and left your trailer for the last time to drive home and move on to the next job. Finishing with this job was sadder than any other job you’d done before. And it was all because of one man.

You pressed the unlock button on your car but that same voice that made your heart skip a few beats stopped you yet again, “Wait! Y/N! Wait a second!”

Turning around, you saw Norman running towards you, waving his arm over his head. He’d changed into his street clothes, his black t-shirt clinging to every muscle and his pants hanging loosely off his small hips.

“What’s up?” you said, “Did I forget something?”

“No, no not at all,” Norman said, “I just wanted to ask you something and I knew I’d regret it if I let you leave without asking.”

“What is it?”

“I was just…we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well these past few days,” Norman began, “And I really wanna see you again outside of work. Do you think you’d wanna go out with me sometime? Coffee or dinner or ya know whatever.”

“Dinner sounds great,” you said. Making a bold move, you grabbed his hand and leaned in, placing a kiss on his scruffy cheek. Norman smiled and pushed his sunglasses further up his nose nervously.

“Sounds great,” he said, “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

You smiled and nodded eagerly, squeezing Norman’s hand as you opened your car door, “I can’t wait, Norman.”


Tempted to make a part 2 ;)

destiel hs au bc i need some fluff rn

read it on ao3

Hey, you wanna go out sometime? -D.W.

Castiel read the note and sat up more rigidly in his chair, casting a glance back at Dean Winchester, who was very diligently pretending he did not just ask Castiel out.

Castiel didn’t know what to do so he folded the note back up and put it where it was on his desk, pretending he hadn’t noticed it. Obviously, Dean had just passed the note to the wrong person. Yes, that was what had happened. After all, there was no way Dean would ask out Castiel. Dean was popular, but popular in that most people had a good opinion of him. 

But, he did not want to ask out Castiel, no matter how nice he was. Castiel  was awkward and kinda reserved, and, though he could protect himself from bullies, he did not often utilize this skill. 

Basically, Castiel was your stereotypical nerdy kid.

The rest of English passed in a blur to Castiel. He was  too distracted by the note sitting, still, on the edge of his desk. The second the bell rang, Castiel leaped out of his chair like it had burned him, grabbed his messenger bag, his journal, and the note. Walking resolutely up to Dean, Castiel thrust the note at him before saying in a rush:

“There seems to be some sort of mistake. This note was delivered to me rather than it’s intended recipient.”

After that, Castiel bolted from the room without looking back at Dean or waiting for a response. Castiel knew his face was beet red from the whole ordeal. 

Still, Castiel thought as he was jostled by the crowd in the hallway as he attempted to  get to his study hall, it’s nice to imagine the note was for me.

Castiel’s crush on Dean was embarrassingly large and had lasted him since the eighth grade. A fact it seemed everyone but Dean himself knew.

As soon as he arrived in study hall, Castiel began writing in his journal about the note and how Dean’s shirt was green today, and how that totally matched his eyes. 

Halfway through the period, Castiel was reminded that Dean also shared this class with him.Th reminder came in the form of a paper ball hitting the back of his head, which wasn’t in itself a new occurrence. What was new was the sound of a body hitting the floor. When Castiel turned around, it became obvious that Dean had shoved the person that threw a paper ball at him to the ground. Castiel felt his face grow hot, and he immediately spun back around in his seat.

The rest of study hall passed, and when the bell rang Castiel once again jumped out of his seat and began to flee the classroom when he heard a suspiciously Dean-like voice call:

“Hey Cas! Wait up, will ya?!?“ 

Castiel halted in his tracks and turned around towards Dean.

"Hello Dean. Did you need something?” Castiel was nothing if not polite. 

“Uh, yeah actually. You know that note?” Dean paused and only began to speak again when Castiel nodded. “The intended recipient was you, stupid.”

“W-what?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me? I mean I get it if you don’t but I-”

Castiel cut him off with a sudden kiss. He pulled away long enough to say “Shut up.” before dragging Dean into another by the grip he had on the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket. 

They were both late to their next class, but they both agreed it was worth it.

Shawn Mendes Imagine | No One Can Replace Me

WARNING: Depressing thoughts coming ahead so if anybody is going through anything tough right now I just want to say you can get through this, and please do not get any ideas because i love you :)

WORD COUNT: 2226

A/N just wanted to do this little imagine before I went on the plane, so I hope you like it.

***

1 month earlier…

“Well,” Shawn said, tossing his last bag in the bus,”I’d better hit the road…”

“I’m going to miss you Shawn,” you said wistfully, grabbing his hands and holding them as tight as you could. Your pursed your lips together. You hated seeing him go.

“I’m coming back, Y/N, don’t worry,” he rubbed the surface of my skin with his thumbs, “and when we get back we’re going to do tons of fun stuff, we’ll make muffins, and i’ll even let you toss flour at me and not complain.” He bit his lip and held me close, running his hands through my hair.

Not going to cry.

“I’ll miss you.”

Not going to cry. 

“You really should go, the other boys are going to be waiting for you,” I pulled away.

“I love you, you cute little thing,” he shook his head, giving me one last kiss, and getting into the bus. I gave Shawn one more wave, and he waved back.

I didn’t watch the bus drive away until it disappeared on the horizon line.

I didn’t chase the bus until my legs couldn’t support me any longer.

Music was all that was on my mind whenever I felt sad. I walked back into our house, put my earphones in, and turned on ‘Superman’ by Taylor Swift.

I watched you fly around the world, and I hope you don’t take some other girl, don’t forget, don’t forget about me…

***

One month later…

It was like 4 AM and I was still awake. Shawn was coming tomorrow. I couldn’t sleep. So, of course, I was scrolling through my Twitter feed.

I looked through a few posts…

My best friend was somewhere in Paris clubbing (undoubtedly picking up guys with her ‘charm’).

My cousin was at some fancy restaurant with her boyfriend.

But then I noticed that Shawn had a new tweet, and he attached a photo.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

‘@shawnmendes: shes pretty hot’

And attached was a photo of him and some girl, much prettier than me, with curling jet black hair and perfectly done makeup, kissing at a bar.

I put my hand over my mouth in disbelief, and felt a tear escape my eye, rolling down my cheek. I just stared at the post, as if wishing that it wasn’t true, that somebody had hacked Shawn’s account and was just doing this for fun.

I nervously paced my room. With my heart beating fast, I texted Cameron Dallas.

Y/N: cam

Y/N: cam

Y/N: cam

C: whats up Y/N

Y/N: do u know where Shawn is???

C: sorry nope i think he went to a bar or something

Y/N: did he go with anybody?

C: nobody but a body guard.

Y/N: o ok thanks anyway cam

I bit my lip, putting my phone down on the nightstand. A minute later it buzzed again.

C: anything wrong?

Half of me wanted to tell him that nothing was wrong, and I was completely fine. The other half wanted me to FaceTime him and break down in front of him because I just really didn’t know what to do.

Y/N: check ur twitter cam

I opened my twitter again and checked Shawn’s account. I didn’t know what I was expecting. I didn’t know what I wanted to happen. I didn’t know how to fix this. When his account had loaded, I realized that the post had been deleted, but there were still hundreds of fans tweeting at him saying things like

“I SCREENSHOTTED IT! @shawnmendes”

“I STILL HAVE IT!!! @shawnmendes”

“FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE POST HE HAD JUST DELETED! @shawnmendes”

“SHAWN CHEATS ON Y/N??? I HAVE THE PHOTO11!!!!1! @shawnmendes”

I didn’t know what to do. I turned on the radio, and tuned in to the first station it brought me to.

It was playing ‘Stay With Me’ by Sam Smith.

I cried. 

My phone buzzed again.

C: Y/N I saw it before it got deleted.

C: can’t believe he’d do that 😠

C: do you want me to talk to him

My heart stopped. No, I absolutely do not want Cam to talk to him! What if they get into a fight or something and they aren’t friends anymore? That’d be all my fault.

Y/N: no no you don’t have to. i’ll just talk to him when he gets back home.

Setting down the phone, I punched the wall in rage. I felt like I broke something in my hand. I didn’t complain.

***

The bus rolled in, and I watched from my bedroom window as Shawn unloaded his things, waved goodbye, and turned the key to get inside our house. I took a deep breath.

I was going to do this.

“Y/N?” Shawn said, popping his head through the door, heaving his bags into the living room, “I’m back.”

I walked down the stairs, and tried to mask all the pain with a smile. I gave him a half hearted hug, and he pecked me on the cheek. But now rather than the eagerness I had felt the day before, I felt anger and a feeling of uselessness.

“Hey.”

“Y/N, is something wrong?”

“Can we talk for a second?” I said, sitting down on the couch, pushing my hair back. My palms were sweaty.

“Yeah sure, what is it?” Shawn sat down next to me, gripping my hand. I reluctantly pulled my hand back.

“Last night you went out to a bar didn’t you?”

“Oh god,” Shawn exhaled, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “I was a bit tipsy last night, Y/N. I swear that I would never cheat on you.”

I was half relieved, but there was still this nagging sensation that he wasn’t telling the truth. I replied through gritted teeth, “Do you promise?”

“I love you no matter what, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that,” he said, pulling me close, closing his eyes.

***

I woke up with Shawn’s arm around me, to the sound of somebody’s phone buzzing. I groaned, reaching for my phone, carefully setting Shawn’s arm down. However, I noticed that it was Shawn’s phone that was getting the notification.

I felt my heart stop.

Honey Bun ❤💘 : im all ready

Honey Bun ❤💘 : c u 2nite bby

Honey Bun ❤💘 : it’ll be just like the night i met u 😏😘

I love you no matter what, Y/N. Nothing is going to change that.

I swear that I would never cheat on you.

This was her. The girl that he met in the bar that night. The girl that was way prettier than me and looked like she belonged on the pages of Covergirl or Vogue. 

The girl that Shawn chose over me.

I jumped right out of the bed, grabbed a post-it note, scribbled a note. I folded it and shoved it in my pocket, taking my phone with me.

I hopped in the car, shoved the keys in, and drove. I put the radio on full blast, drowning out my tears.

I can’t live with you, I can’t live without you, baby… I can’t live without you I can’t live without you baby…

The highway won’t hold you tonight, the highway don’t know you’re alive, the highway don’t care if you’re coming home… But I do, I do…

I was so absorbed in my feelings that I didn’t even scream when the car skidded down the road, turning over, the glass shattering and plunging through my skin, blood dripping down skin, tears dripping on blood.

***

Shawn’s POV

I woke up in bed alone. I sat up, wondering where Y/N had gone. 

I didn’t smell the familiar smell of her in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of us.

Or the sound of the TV set to her favorite channel.

Or the sound of the stereo playing her favorite songs.

After minutes of searching around the house, I drew back the windows, revealing one empty parking spot. Her car was gone. 

I felt my stomach plunge like it would right when you drop on a roller coaster. 

Her phone was gone, the car was gone, and so was she.

My phone rang, it was her mother. I was almost afraid to pick it up.

“He… Hello…?”

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Y/N.”

***

I got to the hospital as fast as I could, running right up to the lady at the reception desk.

“I’m here to see Y/F/N,” I said breathlessly. My heart felt like it was going to burst right out of my ribcage. My muscles tensed.

“She’s being brought in shortly, sir.”

That’s when I heard the door bursting open, the hum of machines whirring and the doctors and nurses speaking amongst themselves, bringing in someone on a hospital bed. I recognized the person’s hair and eyes just as they whisked by. Her family was right with her, her mother crying, her father, who was a doctor there, furiously barking orders, and her little baby siblings crying and confused. I dashed right after them, calling her name. That’s when I heard it.

“Sir, I’m not sure she’s going to make it.”

No. She has to. She has to make it. I felt my lip quiver, my throat felt like something was lodged in it. I picked up the pace, running to the room that they brought her to. I was stopped by a man in hospital scrubs, who held me back.

“Family only, kid.”

Fighting back the tears, trying to push forward from the man’s grip I desperately said, “I am family!” 

I called her name one more time, and her name seemed to linger around the corridor.

***

I’ve been waiting for hours, my heart beating just as fast as it did when I got the call. I watched everything that I could. After an hour or two her family had left the room in tears. I still waited it out. A doctor walked out and filled me in on everything that happened, and told me he was sorry, but it’d all be okay in the end. It didn’t really help. 

At last the man who had blocked me from entering earlier walked up to me.

“You may see her now,” he said. I nodded curtly and walked inside. There she was, her eyes closed, her lips curling up at the sides, her arms folded over her stomach, just like the way she was when we had fallen asleep the night before.

“Oh my god, Y/N.” I let a few tears fall from my eyes, dripping on her delicate fingers that were calloused from playing my guitar. I pulled up a chair and squeezed her hand, “they told me you wouldn’t make it. I didn’t believe them. They also told me that you could still hear me, but you can’t move anything. So I guess I’ll just say a few things before you.. Before… Before…”

I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I hated to say them. They made me feel even worse.

“I loved you ever since the day I met you. You’re the most amazing person I have, and will, ever meet. I love the way your cheeks turn red when I tell you that you’re beautiful. I love the way that you wrinkle your nose when I kiss you there. I love the way that you sing in the shower as if you haven’t a care in the world…” I sighed, “I could go on for ages, Y/N. I know that I can’t give you an explanation that you’d want to hear about that girl, but I just want you to know that she’s nothing compared to you. I’d pick you over her any day, because I’d do anything for you. I’m going to miss the way you fit perfectly in my arms when we fall asleep, I’m going to miss your angelic voice when you sing, I’m going to miss your stupid flour tosses when we bake…”

I was crying. Oh god.

“The boys want to say that they miss you too,” I wiped a tear off my cheek, “and I’m sorry that this is all my fault. None of this would have ever happened if I stayed true to you.”

I planted one last kiss on her forehead like I would when she fell asleep in my lap when we watched TV on the couch.

“I love you, my little muffin.”

***

“Excuse me, are you… Shawn…?” A nurse tapped my shoulder as I left her room.

“What? Yeah,” I responded, a bit confused. She took a post-it note out of her pocket, along with a phone. Y/N’s phone. She handed them to me and said,

“We found these in her pocket when she came. I think they’re for you.” I took them with shaking hands as the nurse left in a hurry, undoubtedly off to save someone else’s life.

I opened the note.

Shawn,

I went out for a drive. I wrote this note in case anything stupid happens, and first off let me just say that it’s not your fault. I love you Shawn, please don’t blame this on yourself.

My phone password: 5683

Go to the voice memo labelled ‘Shawn’

I’ll always love you :) ❤ - Y/N

***

I waited until I got home to listen to the voice memo. I sat on our bed, put my earphones in, and listened.

She was singing. She was playing guitar. She was singing my song.

Hearing her voice, remembering the stupid things I did… It was all too much. I broke down right then and there.

Turns out that no one can replace me… 

I’m permanent you can’t erase me… 

I’ll help you remember me, one more kiss is all it takes…

I’ll leave you with the memory,

and the aftertaste.

***

A/N: I hope you liked that and I’m sorry that it was like so sososososos longg. Please please reblog and like to let me know if you liked it! Leave requests and ideas for new imagines for me to do :) I’m going on a 2 week vacation to a place where the wifi isn’t all that great, so leave lots of requests for me to do!

I am sorry that this got really cheesy

I am also sorry for any tears I have spilled or extreme emotions (if any)

Safe Inside

I’ve never done a Supernatural story before because I absolutely love the series and I didn’t want to disappoint myself or other people. After listening to this song, I decided to actually write it. It’s different from all the other material I write so I hope you all like it. P.S. The reader is written in an ambiguous perspective, it doesn’t apply to a specific race because I’m black and I know we carry ourselves differently and have different hair texture.

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester X Reader
Song Inspo
: Safe Inside by James Arthur
I remember when you were all mine
Watched you changing in front of my eyes


“John how could you not tell me?!” Mary stomped after her husband.  Dean heard the commotion and slipped from his cozy bed. His eyes were half opened, his hair all ruffled, but he was quiet nevertheless. Being careful, Dean slowly turned the doorknob to watch his parents argue. “What did you want me to say?! I’m sorry Mary, I had an affair during the job? How would you have reacted?” Mary crossed her arms. “I guess we’ll never know now will we?” John fixed his gaze at his feet. “We have two kids, you are aware of that, right? What about Sam, what about Dean? Imagine if she was pregnant.” Curious enough, Dean managed to step out of hiding and timidly ask, “What is pregnant?” Mary gasped and dropped to her knees. She moved his hair out of his face and forced a smile. “Dean, what are you doing up? Go back to bed.” Dean nodded and trudged his way back to his room. On his way there he caught his mother saying something to his dad. Something that he may never forget. “You hurt me, John. You really did.”

That night a fire happened and his mother was still inside. One of the officers came over to tell John that they couldn’t rescue Mary. Ever since that night, a piece of John was chipped away. Two years later, Dean opened the door to find a baby in front of their motel door. John was out on a job and Sam was watching cartoons inside. Against his better judgment, Dean dragged the basket inside. Dean looked back outside to find a bag of baby things in there like formula, bottles, three changes of clothes, more than a few diapers, wipes, a pacifier, a bib, a washcloth, and a note. Dean left the note aside and looked at the little girl. She awoke but instead of crying, she just looked at Dean and smiled. When Dean reached for her, she grasped his finger tightly making Dean return a smile. In that moment, it was like she was imprinting on Dean because he had already fallen in love with the newborn.

Over the collection of a few days, Dean cared for her. Even three-year-old Sam began to like her. Dean almost hit Sam when Sam tried to give her cold milk from his cereal. Dean explained that she was a baby and had to eat baby things. When she ran out, Dean charmed a woman from downstairs to go buy her some baby food. He’d even crafted a list of what she might like and gave it to the lady. The woman was a little skeptical but Dean told her that their dad went to work and couldn’t get the food. Unexpectedly, John actually did come home that night. Dean handed him the unopened letter. After reading it, John lost his mind and picked up the baby, heading towards the front door. Dean yelled, screamed, and cried for him to keep the baby. John stopped when Dean asked if it was that woman that mom was talking about the night she died. A cold tear ran down his face at the realization. “We can’t afford another kid, Dean.” Dean stuck his head high, wiped away his tears, and grabbed the car seat. “I’ll take care of her, after all, she’s my sister, right?” John choked back a cry at his son’s boldness. “You, uh, it needs a name.” Dean frowned at his father’s choice of words. “Her, she’s a girl, not a thing, and her name is…Y/N. Y/N Winchester.”

If you’re home I just hope that you’re sober
Is it time to let go now you’re older
Don’t leave me this way

*15 years later


“Hey dad, there’s this dance and I was wondering–” John cut you off with a stern voice. “Dance? How many times do I have to tell you? This isn’t a game.” You nodded your head and smiled to avoid breaking down. “Yeah, I know but I just figured–” “You always figure, you never think.” John rose from the table and folded his newspaper. “You’re staying here, in the motel. End of story.” John grabbed his coat and slammed the door on his way out.

Sam was three years older than you, so he understood what position you were in. “Asshole,” Sam scoffed. He pulled up a chair next you and handed you a soda. Dean was out with dad, so he didn’t have the chance to comfort you but lately he was never home just like him. “So this dance, were you planning on going with someone?” You smiled and took a sip. His name was Jacob but all his friends called him Crush. Crush was always there for you in ways that no one else was. When you felt like dying, Crush would pick you up outside the motel and take you out into the open. The two of you would smoke and drink and talk until it was time to take you back home. You knew the dangers of hanging out with a slightly older guy, but he made you feel safe. Kind of like Dean.

Sam elbowed you gently and the two of you chuckled. “What’s his name?” You softly said “Jacob.” Sam nodded his head and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go,” You furrowed a brow. “You got to get a dress if you want to dance, right?” You shrieked and followed Sam out the door. After a while of searching the thrift store, you found a long green sleeved sweater dress and a pair of white clean converses. It was a total of forty bucks, but so worth it. Sam suggested you wore your hair down and it was like the whole outfit changed. You were beautiful and radiant. Sam dropped you off the dance after giving you a lecture about not staying out too long and to stay safe, stay sharp.

Crush greeted you by dropping to his knees and bowing before you. It made you laugh so much that you forgot about your neglecting father, your protective brother Dean, and even Sam. Throughout the night he paid special attention to you, grabbing you drinks when you seemed thirsty, asking if you were okay every 15 minutes, and making sure you ate. After the dance, Crush took you to an arcade and the two of you laughed until your sides hurt. It was nothing compared to when you lost your virginity to him. You asked him to drive you to your special spot and you both had sex. Afterward, he told you that he loved you and that he would do anything for you if you asked.

Dean paced in the middle of the motel room, waiting for your arrival. Once you walked in, hair a little messy, a huge smile, and glowing skin, Dean ran up to you and grabbed your shoulders. “Y/N, where have you been?!” He had dried tears on his face and he raised his voice in a way you’ve never heard before. “I was at the dance,” Dean clenched his jaw and took a step back. “The dance? What are you crazy?! Dad said you weren’t allowed to go”

Speak of the devil, John walked in the motel with his arms crossed. The expression on his face shouted disgust and anger. “The dance was over three hours ago, where’d you go?” Something bubbled up inside of you and you remembered what Crush told you, “You gotta be strong.” With a new sense of confidence, you fixed your stare onto John. “Now you care? That’s new.” John rose his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, “excuse me?” “You heard me, John. You haven’t paid attention to me for 15 years, you must be possessed.” Dean widened his eyes at his sister’s boldness. Sam on the other hand, silently chuckled. “Young lady–” “What’s my name?” You cut him off. Dean stepped in and tried to pull you to the side but you yanked your arm away. “I’ve never once, heard you say my name. It’s not my fault that I’m the mistake. I didn’t ask to be born–”

Dean had heard enough. “Y/N, knock it off!” Sam tried to mediate the situation but it just pissed Dean off even more. “Get out. Come back when you’ve got some sense.” A piece of you died inside. Dean was acting just like him, a mere shadow. “Dean…” “Shut up, Sam!” A tear rolled down your cheek as you fled from the motel room. You called Crush and told him to come pick you up. While you waited, you walked to the front desk and waited inside. Once Crush pulled up, you jumped in and never looked back.

Will you call me to tell me you’re alright
Cause I worry about you the whole night

“I’ll load up.” Sam picked up his bags and headed for the car. Dean gathered his things together into his bag. He sighed at a folded piece of paper that fell out of dad’s journal. Dean was about to place back in its place when he saw a familiar name of a motel. Unfolding the paper, Dean read its contents:

Dear Dean and Sam,
You’re my brothers and despite how I came to be, you never let me think that I was anything less than your sister. I can’t stand the way he looks at me. Like I’m the reason, Mary… Anyways, I’m going off to live a life that I deserve. It’s not one with you and I’m sorry about that. I really am. Here’s how to contact me 476-XXX-XXXX, I’ll be waiting for your call. I love you.

- Sincerely yours, Y/N Winchester

Tears rolled down Dean’s face as he finished the letter. Sam walked back in, confused. “Dude, what are you–are you crying?” Sam rarely saw his brother cry. Dean handed Sam the letter and waited until he read it. Sam could barely speak. When he did, his vocals wavered, “where’d you find this?” Dean raised dad’s journal. Sam was no longer sad. “So all these years, we thought she ran away without telling us where and how to find her.” Dean didn’t speak. He remembered yelling at her that night. He didn’t mean to, he was just scared because he didn’t know where she went. The thought of losing his sister scared him more than any creature they hunted. “Dad lied to us! He knew about the letter and he didn’t tell us about it…Dean?” Dean placed his head in hands and cried. Sam rubbed his back while he let out all the guilt that built up over the five years that you’d been gone.

If you make the same mistakes
I will love you either way
All I know is that I can’t live without you
There is nothing I can say
That will change you anyway
Darling, I could never live without you
I can’t live, I can’t live

After two weeks of tracking you down, they finally found you in Ormond Beach, Florida. “You sure this is it?” Sam read the address again. “Yup, 23 South Division St. Ormond Beach, Florida” Dean looked at the house again. It was beautiful. The house was a camel color with white pillars in the front. The house had a beautiful view of the beach. Just like you always wanted. The brothers stepped out of the car and walked up to the front. Sam knocked on the big wooden door. After no response, Dean scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t ready to see you yet. “Well, no one’s here looks like we got to go,” Dean already made his way back to the car. “Dean, wait,” Sam pulled him back. “I know it’s scary but, she’s our sister.” “Dean? Sam? Is that you?” Dean turned around. You wore black skinny jeans, a red and black flannel shirt, and a little boy’s hand. He looked three. Dean’s heart sunk at the sight. Another kid, about 11 stood behind her. “Terry, can you take him inside please?” The older boy nodded and walked past the confused brothers.

The three of you talked for a while until you brought them inside. Sam looked around the room at all the pictures. Half of them were with a guy who seemed to care for you. “Who’s he?” You smiled and went upstairs. When you returned, you held the long-sleeved green dress, Sam bought her. Sam laughed and immediately knew who it was, “Jacob.” You explained that Crush proposed to you last month. The little boy from earlier waddled towards you. You picked him up and kissed him on the forehead. Dean looked closely and saw that he had your eyes and your smile. “This big guy is my son, Arrow Smith Winchester.” Dean laughed while Sam groaned. “Arrow Smith?” At that moment, Crush walked in. “She named him after your favorite band. We couldn’t exactly call him Led or Zeppelin. I assume you’re both Sam and Dean?”

*Six months later

“I can’t do this,” Sam laughed. He rubbed your shoulders while you looked at your reflection. “Yes, you can. You can do anything, you’re a Winchester.” You smiled and embraced Sam with a hug. Dean walked in the room and quickly closed the door. “You ready–” Dean stopped short once he saw you. You looked gorgeous. From the time that you entered his life, Dean watched you grow into the woman you are now. It was like you’d never left and there was no way Dean would let you go ever again. You hugged Dean as well. “Thank you, for everything and more, for making me feel safe.”