this took much longer than i thought it would so i'll make more later

anonymous asked:

Ironwinter "You need to go." or "I don't want you." because I could use some angst please.


Is this angsty enough for you, nonnie? Because I aim to please ;D




Of all the terrible things Bucky had done, this might actually be the worst. Tony was staring at him in confusion, coffee cup halfway to his lips. Perhaps Bucky should have picked a better time for this, but he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tony asked, but his words lacked their usual confidence.

“I said, we should break up.” Bucky managed to maintain eye contact, but it took everything he had.

Tony blinked, his coffee cup lowering. Bucky could see the walls beginning to slam shut — Tony always hid behind them when he felt insecure or hurt.

“Okay. I admit that was sudden.” Tony sounded indifferent, but Bucky knew better. It was the carefree kind of nonchalance that Tony used whenever he felt like he’d lost control of the situation. Unsurprisingly, his boyfriend of six months suddenly dumping him without warning qualified as one of those times.

With effort, Bucky kept going, reminding himself that he had to do this. There was no other way. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “We gave it a try, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

Bucky hated himself.

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With the Heart of May

[Someone in the malec tag couldn’t sleep and was asking for flower crown pics. I can’t do manips but I can write and I’m feeling very stressed out so I attempted to write some flowery fluff… this came out instead. Enjoy?]

There was a rose where the doorknob used to be.

Alec stared at it for a moment, brow furrowed first in confusion, then in worry. It could just be the latest in Magnus’ redecoration efforts, but those were usually restricted to the inside of the loft. Nothing else seemed amiss: the hallway was the same as always, there were no signs of forced entry, there weren’t even any suspicious noises coming from Magnus’ place.

Although there was something.

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Just A Friend

PART 1/?

Pairing: D. Diggs x Femme Reader (Ham Ensemble Bullet)

Word Count: 1,866 (Long Read, Fluffy)

Warnings: Light Smut

“Y/N. Where. Are. You?”

Those weren’t exactly the words you wanted to be abruptly woken up by, and they certainly didn’t help your pounding headache. It took a minute for you to register the velvety voice that was none other than your best friend and cast member, Daveed Diggs.

“Where. Am. I?” You mocked him with your best impersonation, despite your hangover. Where were you, you thought as you looked around. At home? Not even close. But he didn’t have to know that. You jumped out of that stranger’s bed, whom you recalled to be the sexy barista who hooked you up with free wine coolers, before hooking up with you, the night before.

“Y/N—”

“Just–hold on, Daveed! Please…” You groaned as you scrambled around the guys place in search of your things, which consisted of your panties, heels, dress, and purse. You thought he might’ve been different, special–that he could’ve been the first one to give you a genuine orgasm since your longtime boyfriend in college—but no. And seeing as none of that was Daveed’s business, you decided to go ahead and fib to him, by saying:

“Erm, I’m–at home! Why’re you even calling me so early, D, isn’t it only–” you questioned, looking down at your phone which read, “5:00?! Holy shit, I must’ve forgot to set an alarm—!”

“Ya think? Look, I told Lin, Tommy and Andy you woke up with morning sickness, I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll have no problem lying to any of them.” Daveed rambled, sounding mad, as you wished his next words weren’t what you knew they’d be. “I’m at your apartment right now, Y/N. Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Where. The fuck. Are you?!”


After leaving Luke’s–or Liam’s, or whatever-his-name’s–place, in your party dress and flashy heels with your hair and makeup disheveled, you’d finally arrived back at your apartment building in one piece. You knew you should’ve taken the stairs and ran considering not only you, but Daveed not too was missing rehearsals for a Broadway show, because of you—you were well aware you didn’t have much time. But you also knew you wanted as much time as possible alone before getting slut shamed and scolded by your best friend. 

Before you knew it, those elevator doors slid open with the bell you’d been dreading to hear your whole ride up. And there he was. Sweaty from the near-summer heat and choreography you missed, you couldn’t deny how hot he looked. Now, Daveed looked hot 24/7, but when he wore his wild curls back, with an Oakland tank top, exposing his toned arms like that—

“Well, at least you don’t have pretend to be sick, because clearly you were out drinking all night. With someone who’s name who you probably can’t recall?” And all he had to was open his mouth, scold you, and all that hotness went straight out the front door to your apartment before he shut it behind the two of you.

“Hey! You don’t know that, I could’ve easily went to a party, had a few drinks, maybe slept over a friend’s—”

“That dress. Those shoes. The sex hair, and look in your eyes like you’d bang anything with a pulse right now, myself included—you’re hammered. Or at least you were.” D scoffed, and you kept quiet, knowing he was right. “I knew it.” He mumbled, sounding disappointed, before taking your heels from your hand, running to your room, and returned with your rehearsal bag in his hands.

“Get over yourself, Diggs.” You groaned, turning your back to him so he could unzip you.

“You’re welcome.” He muttered, you turned back around, and began to slide it off, until you remembered what you had on underneath.

“Aren’t you gonna turn around, or something?” You suggested whereas he just leaned there, staring at you expectantly, against the kitchen countertop.

“Y/N, we’ve done quick changes in front of each other before, it’s not like I don’t know what’s underneath—”

“If you say so.” You grumbled, letting it fall to the ground, revealing the undergarments you wore for special occasions only, and not the old sports bras and boxers you wore to rehearsals: a sultry lingerie set, that consisted of a sheer, black lace, strappy bralette with matching panties.

“Who’s looking like they’d bang anything with a pulse, now?”

-

You’d decided to stay in your lingerie and go out later after rehearsals, so you just threw on your King’s College Theater Department t-shirt and pair of black sweatpants.

“You got my bag?” You asked while avoiding eye contact with Daveed when you headed back out to see him in the same exact spot you’d left him in. 

“Huh?” He asked dazed, brown eyes studying your body to guess if you were still wearing the lingerie underneath or not. “Erm, yeah, yeah it’s right here.“

He carried your rehearsal bag for you, as you two walked out the door, with Daveed on your tail as you both headed for the elevator again.

“Quiet.”

“What?”

“You’re so quiet all of a sudden.” You expanded, taking your backpack from Daveed’s hands.

“I don’t know what you mean, Y/N.” D mumbled, staring at the carpeting underneath his feet, as you were thankful you two were the only ones riding the elevator.

“I mean, less than five minutes ago you were basically slut shamming me–because god forbid for a female to sleep around, or else she’s a whore, right?–and then, I let you see me how everyone I sleep with sees me! Do you not get how vulnerable that makes me feel, you’re my friend—!”

With a clash of your bodies and the thud of your bag as it feel to the ground, Daveed pressed you up against the cool steel wall of the elevator.

“Well maybe I don’t want to be just your friend anymore, Y/N! Maybe I want to be everyone. Or just the one.

His lips met yours, your free hand instantly moving to cup his scruffy cheek, once you’d realized what was happening. The kiss wasn’t sweet, or kind–it was angry, and feverish. You reached to untie his hair, successful in doing so, you tugged at his curls. He did the same with your hips, before you impatiently bucked them into his. You felt his tongue make it’s way to yours, as satisfied sighs left your lips. You couldn’t do this, not without at least talking to him first:

“Daveed, I–”

“I-I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Daveed stuttered, “I don’t know what I… do you want me to stop? I can–I mean, not that I would want or like to–

“No! I mean, it’s not you, it’s just…” you sighed, feeling all of your pent up thoughts from the last few weeks regarding your recent, nightly behavior threat to spill. “I don’t even know why I do it…” you cried softly, leaning into Daveed’s chest, your head fitting perfectly under his chin.

“Do what, Y/N?” D softened up, wrapping his arms around you, wiping your tears from face with his thumb.

“Any of it! All of it–the lingerie, and excessive makeup: dressing up for people I barely know–let alone like!” You groaned, pressing your hands gently against his chest so that you could could look up at him. “The day drinking, and one night stands–it’s not me! Then again, it’s not like any of them were really keepers, anyways.” You laughed halfheartedly, smiling at D as he continued to wipe your stray tears away. Before either of you knew it, those doors opened again, releasing you two from your own little world and into the real one again.

“Well, for starters, I don’t think you’d need to dress up for anyone or wear that much makeup. You wouldn’t have to do any of those things if you were with me; you know me.” Daveed began, receiving an eye roll or two from you. “What? I’m being serious, Y/N! You show up to rehearsals in what you may think is shit–”

“Thanks, Diggs.”

“But, damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone pull off sweats and a t-shirt in practically no makeup quite as well as you do, Y/N.” He took your hand in his as you let him know you were more than okay with that by intertwining your fingers with his, and you two began your trek for Richard Rodgers.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Diggs.” You smiled, glad that your height gave you the advantage to lean against his buff shoulder like a pillow while you walked. 

“Oh! And as for the lingerie–” Daveed whispered loud enough just so you could hear, “I don’t think it would hurt, so just keep that in mind?”

“Sure thing, D.” You laughed as you couldn’t believe what was happening: you were actually falling for your best friend.

-

“Tommy, Lin–Andy! I am so, so sorry, I-I–”

“She’s on her period.” Daveed blurted causally, causing you to furrow your brows and smack his toned chest.

“Woke up with morning sickness, called me–threw up just kind of all over the place, you really had to be there–”

“I'll… take your word for it.” Tommy sighed while he pinched the bridge of his nose, whereas LMM was laughing.

“Well, all that matters is you’re both here now.” Lin assured you both, clasping his hands together. “And, boy, do we have work to do! But as long as you’re felling up for it, Y/N.”

If this was just any other ensemble role, in any other show, you probably would’ve copped out. But this was Broadway’s Hamilton: the musical of the decade, the big league. There was no way in hell some receding hangover and commitment issues were going to make you were back out now. You were Hamilton’s Bullet, after all.

“Yes, I’m afraid Lin’s right. I’ll only have you dancing up there if you’re your usual happy, and healthy Bullet–I don’t want you blowing chunks all over my dance floor, Y/N.” Andy elaborated, talking with you while you two walked down the aisle with Daveed at your other side, your hands no longer conjoined.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m good to go, just give me the word, Andy.” You smiled, walking onstage with Daveed behind you, and mouthed ‘hello’s’ to your other cast members.

“Will do. We’ve got our Bullet back everyone!” Andy announced your return as you were regarded with smiles and cheers. “All right people, we’re running your blocking for Yorktown!” You shot Daveed a small smile before you parted ways; he making his way downstage with Lin, and you a few feet to their left to meet Anthony.

“Places!”

-

PART 1/?

Adult Supervision

Summary: One-shot. Jaken’s scheme to find the Inu no Taisho’s tomb takes an unexpected turn when the Unmother brings Izayoi back from the dead. Alive in the demon’s body, Izayoi wants to make amends with Inuyasha by doing what she couldn’t before: being there.

Words: 7k

Also on ff.net

A/N: Inuparents Day fic. The story isn’t about their relationship, but it’s often mentioned! 

Dedicated to @wreathoflaurels, who made me love Izayoi. To me, she’s really your character!

“I have come back, Inuyasha… Back from the world of the dead.”

Izayoi was aware of something channeling her, tugging at her spirit—disturbing her peace.

“Stop hurting her!” A man screamed from the outside.

“Your son,” the thing whispered. “The man is your son.”

“I-Inuyasha?”

“Are you okay?” A girl’s voice sounded close by.

“Who’s there? Who are you?” Izayoi asked the darkness.

“I am the Unmother.”

“Kagome, you and her, get out of here!” Inuyasha barked.

“I think not,” Sesshomaru’s voice scorned.

“It’s a trap,” Izayoi realized. She started fighting the demon’s grasp, feeling the strength of the souls which formed it—mothers mourning children who would never come home.

Their intentions weren’t good.

“This place… Where is it?” Inuyasha asked.

“Nowhere!” Izayoi wanted to yell. “It’s an illusion!”

“At the bottom of the spirit world,” the Unmother answered. “I must be crossing over very soon.”

Izayoi would have groaned if she could. Stuck inside the Unmother’s body, she was able to read her like a book.

Inuyasha would die.

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royalty - part six

title : royalty (PG)

type : chaptered

character : Jaebum

plot : bodyguard!Jaebum AU; you’re not the typical princess he thought he had to protect

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part seven | part eight | part nine

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Words Don’t Come So Easily

I had some inspiration from a lot of these songs; X & Y  as well as the requested song so I’ve tailored it to what I believe would happen, as well as trying to go ‘step for step’ with the song. Even though this is really bad and has a significant lack of smut, I hope you like it. *Based on a gif that isn’t my own*

Request by; Anon.

Request;  I have a request, if you are willing. I would like to request a songfic betwen Owen x Reader of “Remind Me” by Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood… Obviously kind of step by step with the lyrics, they’re broken up but get back together with a little smut and lots of fluff??? please and thanks!

—————————————————————

Warnings; None.

You grumbled and wandered about listlessly and aimlessly because of the unhappiness Claire had just shoved in your face. Working at Jurassic World for six years now, meant you’d gotten close with a few of your co-workers, Claire being one of them, Owen Grady being the other. So when she’d informed you that you’d be the one going to convince him to check out the parks new attraction, you hit her with a straight faced, “no way.” Of course she knew about your previous relationship with Owen, everyone did, at one point the two of you were inseparable having gotten into trouble and almost fired many times because of your ‘very public displays of affection’ as Claire put it. But that all ended when you caught Owen drunkenly sucking another girls face off at works Christmas party last year. Finally reaching the six degrees of separation you’d moved on, having met new people and had different ‘moments’ with other men by the time the June heat came around you’d almost forgotten your relationship with Grady though Claire had now bitterly reminded you of everything wrong he did. 

“Why can’t you do it?” you protested. The thought of seeing Grady’s face turned your stomach in knots.

“Because I’m busy. You know how much work I have to do everyday.” She sighed. “Look Y/n, I know you don’t like it but just go over, explain it, he’ll say yes and boom you can leave. You’ll be in and out in just over an hour, tops.” She reassured you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving her, her best ‘am I convincing you that I care when I don’t’ look. Rolling your eyes and shutting them you huffed. 

“Fine. One hour. If he’s not convinced by then, then it’s not my problem. I’m out of there.” Claire gave a grateful smile and patted your back before sending you on your way. Hopping on your Harley Davidson CVO Road King, it wasn’t just Owen Grady who was into their bikes, you headed towards your destination, preparing your thirty minute rant as to why he should accept, though you said an hour after Claire said over an hour, she’d be lucky if you were going to stay there for any longer than fifteen minutes. Riding down the familiar dirt track brought back memories of your time together with Owen and the ridiculous adventures you went on. They brought a smile to your face which dulled as soon as you pulled up to the messy bungalow. Parking your bike up just off the track, you stopped the engine and ruffled your hair. Rolling your shoulders back you stood up straight and waltzed towards the bungalow, seeing Owen hunched over his bike around the corner before he saw you made you hesitate, perhaps you could just lie to Claire that he accepted? But then what would happen when he never turned up and Claire investigated? You’d get fired that’s what. You cleared your throat, standing a mere three steps from him he snapped his head up, upon noticing it was you his eyes widened slightly though his lips remained sealed. He put his tools down on the floor next to him and you took the opportunity to explain the situation.

“Claire sent me to ask you if you would do her a favour and check out a new dinosaur’s enclosure.” He raised his eyebrows, standing up and walking towards you. Your heart twisted and turned with his every movement, a flood of emotions washing over you as you took in how handsome he was. 

“And here I was thinking this was a personal visit.” His voice was gruff, deeper than you remembered with a lot more sarcastic, sexual undertones in. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he moved even closer to you, now only two steps.

“Trust me this is not a personal visit. I’m just here to consult about this project. Nothing more.” You folded your arms, eyes trailing his body before locking with his own green gaze. One step.

“Would you like to consult here or in my bungalow?” He smirked and you watched as his eyes searched your body. 

“Owen, stop playing around. You know you blew it. This…this can’t happen again.” 

His tone suddenly shifted; “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered you know…do you ever miss us?” You shifted your weight, breaking eye contact and staring at the ground, your cheeks flared at his charm and before you could answer he answered for you; “I miss us. Our fun, waking up next to you everyday and then when I made that stupid mistake with that girl who I didn’t even know or cared to know and you left. It ate me up inside.I could handle not being with you but I knew you needed your space so I gave it to you. I knew you’d be with…others…and I couldn’t handle that so I stayed as far away as possible but now I can’t and I’ve just…” He huffed unable to get his words out.

“Owen why is this all coming out now? It’s been six months…if you wanted me back that badly you would have done something about it earlier.” You folded your arms, reason slipping over your clouded emotions. He sighed, giving his best puppy dog eyes and moving even closer to you, so your elbows were touching his chest.

“I just…Y/n…I love you…” closing his eyes, he pressed his lips against yours and your eyes widened in surprise before relaxing and moving methodically against his, all your previous emotions of being happy with him flooded back to you. Your hands moved up to wrap around his neck and his own around your waist, pressing your body close to his as he nipped on your lower lip. Upon doing so you let out a bizarre squeaking sound and he chuckled, parting from you.

“You don’t remember? I always used to do that and you always used to make that noise, either that or something along the lines of -” he imitated your voice in a high pitched manner - “Oh Owen.” he laughed once more and you punched his chest lightly. 

“Well, then that means that maybe…” you paused gazing into his eyes with a slight smirk, “…you should remind me of the things I’ve forgotten.” you bit your lip and winked and he chuckled wiggling his eyebrows in agreement to a night of amazing sex, placing another loving kiss on your lips before picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. As he carefully carried you into his bungalow, you felt as if you were fine china, so precious to him and you knew in that moment, Owen had redeemed himself, everything was going back to normal, you were meant for each other and that’s the way it was going to be. 

I'll Follow You

Summary: Inspired by Death Cab For Cutie’s “I Will Follow You Into The Dark" 


He walked into the room only when the healers had ushered the others out and then departed themselves. Even then, he watched quietly in the shadows, unseen as people paced outside of the room, voices low and mouths twisted in grief. He waited long after the visitors had dissipated, the maids had cleaned the hallway, and the torches in the sconces had flickered out. He waited until the last healer stepped from the room and wiped his brow, frowning to himself. As his soft, supple leather slippers shuffled down the stairs, he sighed quietly to himself, a sigh that spoke more than whatever words he’d be forced to dredge up later. The sound spoke of centuries, of millenniums. 

He waited a beat longer, to ensure that the healer wasn’t returning. And then he stepped from the shadows and walked up the stairs, his own footsteps silent, halting. He knew what he would find. But that didn’t make the journey any easier to take. His fingers grasped the handle and turned it. After a heartbeat, then two, he finally opened the door. 

The room smelled clean, of fresh herbs and poultices. Everything had been cleared away from the bed to allow the healers space to work, a small end table set back for their supplies. The fireplace roared in order to keep the room warm, the poplar logs crackling under the blaze. He took his time, taking note of the set-up of the room, the way that the doors to the balcony were closed, curtains drawn over them to keep out the chill. When she was awake, she kept them open at all times, enjoying the breeze that scraped off of the tops of the mountains.

After he finished studying the armoire, the rugs, the tapestries, and the bookshelves, he finally allowed himself to stand at the foot of the bed, the blankets brilliantly colored and thick. For any normal person, they would have kept them warm and cozy through the night. But as his gaze slowly dragged up past the mass of blankets and took in the feverish, pasty face of the Inquisitor, he knew that she was not warm. And soon, there would be no living thing to keep warm beneath the piles of good intentions. 

"Ma vhenan,” he whispered, and his voice cracked. He moved around the side of the bed fluidly, gracefully. A trembling hand reached beneath the blankets and pawed around, finally finding her fingers. He could feel a map of her violent past, nicks, and bumps over her knuckles, a scar across the back of her hand from when an assassin had thrown a star just right, a healed burn from when she’d stood too close to a blast -he let out a short, coughing breath because his lungs refused to work properly for a moment. He thought of when she would come to him, injured but so very alive, eyes bright enough to burn. And he would heal her wounds, scold her for her carelessness, admonish her to be careful. She would kiss his lips, a playful grin dancing across her mouth. Of course, she would say, of course. I will do better next time.

“I suppose…your luck had to run out sometime.” He said, and he blinked back the heat that suddenly pressed against his eyelids. He held her hand like it was an anchor, like it was the only thing holding him down. She did not reply though, her once bold and expressive mouth slack, her breathing shallow. Sweat dotted her brow, and he let go of her hand in order to dab some of it away, mindless in his task. It would not help her, in the end. No matter the little things he could do, the nurse-like tasks he would commit to, the end result would be the same. Some wounds went too deep. Some injuries were just too fatal. 

“Ma vhenan, I told you to be careful.” He chastised gently, sinking to his knees. He laid his head beside her shoulder, staring at her face in profile. The way her cheekbones cut ruthlessly. The way her nose sharply slanted, giving way to full lips and a narrow chin. He had found her beautiful the way that he found any predator beautiful -unbridled strength, fierce instincts. And yet, without her vallaslin there, there was a certain softness to her face. The slave brands had made her dark, intimidating before anyone spoke to her. Now though, he could see how she could not only be a warrior, a fighter, and a leader, but a woman, a lover, and a kindred spirit. 

She did not reply, her rattling breath difficult and labored. He wondered at the healers leaving, if they thought she was either not worth the effort, or if they believed that she had at least the night. No, they would not leave her if she was going to die soon. The room would be full, heads bowed, hands clenching needily at their sides as their leader departed from this world. The thought did not comfort him. One night. One night with her, one moment, a blink in time when one lives forever. But he would take it. Beggars could not be choosers. And oh, how he was so close to begging.

“There was so much that I wanted to tell you.” He whispered, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. He felt his lips tremble, felt an ache in his chest that made his own breathing as difficult as hers. “There was so much to say.”

She inhaled sharply, paused, and then exhaled. He looked up at her face, tracing its expression. Her eyes darted underneath her eyelids, lost in a fever-dream. They could ease her pains of the body, but they could not ease her mind. She was a fighter, one of hard work and blood. She would rage against the failings of her own body until she died for it. 

He cradled her face, brushed his thumb over clammy skin. It was not right, that it should be like this. How dare she leave, how dare she go before he could set things right, show her that it was not out of cruelty, but of love? How dare she? Had he not warned her? Had he not cautioned her? Had he not insisted on her safety, repeated lectures of not taking unnecessary risks until it was practically a mantra? He gritted his teeth, pressed his forehead to the blankets. 

“Please, ma vhenan, do not leave me.” He begged. A god on his knees. But he would do anything for her, anything to ease the agony. 

But she did not answer. She merely trembled despite the warmth of the room, her mouth working wordlessly as she dreamed. 

She dreamed. 

He did not hesitate. Entering the fade was as easy as breathing, as easy as the second from one moment to the next. One moment, he stared down at her slowly weakening form, and in the next he was asleep, looking around Haven in mild confusion. 

She stood at the edge of the road, her arms folded. She did that when she was thinking. She folded her arms, set her jaw. He walked up beside her, the tightness in his chest easing as he saw her healthy, vibrant. In the fade, she glowed. 

“Ma vhenan.” He whispered, and she looked at him and smiled. Warm. Friendly. Gentle.

“I was waiting for you.” She replied. Without asking, she took his hand and held it, her palm warm and dry instead of clammy and cold.

“I apologize for taking so long.”

“You were busy, weren’t you? But you came for me now, and that’s what matters.” He didn’t know how to form the words to tell her, and instead he continued to stand beside her, pretending that this was truth, pretending that this was reality.

“…I am dying, Solas.” She said, matter-of-fact. “I can feel it in my bones, in my lungs. I won’t last long.” He felt a tremor wrack him, but her hand tightened around his.

“Perhaps there is something I may yet do?” He said, although he could taste the lie, and he knew she could hear it, too. She laughed, the sort of laugh that held no humor in it. 

“I just thought that I would come to where it all began before I go.” She didn’t bother addressing his hopeful words. She knew there was no chance.

“This is an important place for you.”

“It is where many wonderful and terrible things began.” She sighed, wistful. “There is so much that I wanted to do.”

“Ma vhenan, I am sorry. I was not there for you, and you needed me.” He turned her to face him, and it enraged him to see her so calm. Why did she not fight? Why did she not rage? Why was he feeling her emotions for her, her own face so serene, so peaceful?

“It’s alright, Solas. These things happen." 

"No. No, they do not happen. I should have been there, I should have-”

“Solas,” she gently pressed a finger to his lips, staring up at him tenderly. “It’s alright. I was just waiting for you. But now I have to go.”

Go? Go? He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his mouth, shaking his head because she couldn’t go, there had to be more time, she couldn’t leave him, she couldn’t go because he would be alone, he would be alone and he would never see her again-

“Please,” he rasped, and he jerked her against his chest, clinging to her like she was the sole force keeping him grounded. “Please don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“It’s going to be alright. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And I know that you had to leave. I have been dying for some time, but I had to wait for you to come. I knew you would come. And I wanted to say goodbye.” She smiled up at him, a tenderness he could not fathom. “I could not follow you then, and you cannot follow me now.”

He shook his head, violently, angrily. It was not the same, it was not the same at all.

“Solas…it’s time to let me go.” She pulled away from him, her sparkling eyes suddenly dim. “It is time for me to end where I began.”

“No, please…” his voice shook; his hands trembled. But as he reached for her, she stepped away from him and turned, walking up the steps to Haven where she would lay her head to rest. Her back was straight. Her footsteps did not falter. But he could not watch her leave. He ran, scrambling to reach her, trying to drag her back to him before it was too late, it couldn’t be too late, if he didn’t reach her in time she would-

He jerked awake, and he let out a cry of fear more than pain. Beneath him, Lupa lay slumped into the mattress, a small smile on her lips. No breath escaped her, her eyes closed only just. He grabbed her shoulders, shook her. But he knew she would not wake, knew she would not ever open her eyes to bat his hands away.

“No, no, no…” His voice wavered, broke. “No, ma vhenan, no…please, do not leave me…you cannot leave me…please, do not go where I cannot follow you…” He tasted tears, hot and anguished. He clutched her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, her body limp, her own arms useless at her sides. A sob tore his throat, a broken, awful thing. He could not follow her, he could not find her, not in the Void, not in the place that rejected all living-

…but he could. 

He looked down at her, smoothed rumpled hair from her brow. The room, the tangible, heavy things around him could not ground him. He felt very distanced from it all, disconnected. Was he not a god? Was he not once a powerful being that crossed between worlds with little to no thought, and even less effort? He closed his eyes, opened them. He took her hand, now heavy with death, and he caressed the anchor that still glowed, somehow sustained despite the lack of life. He grasped her hand tightly and focused his magic, channeling the power through the anchor viciously, violently. 

The reaction was instantaneous. 

Magic, his own magic, flooded him, delicious and bright. It had been long since he’d tasted his own power on his tongue, had felt it tingling in his veins. He did not wait to study it, though. With his eyes glowing a brilliant white, he shifted and stood above Lupa, waving a hand beside him to cut through the Veil, showing the fade within. Stepping through it, physically instead of spiritually, a feat that once could have killed him, did not touch him.

And when he reached the Void, he did not pause to think. There were only two that had crossed it while living before, one that carried the dead and the other that carried death with her fist. But he did not entertain thoughts of returning, for what life was there when she was not with him? When she could not walk the earth and live as he could? He stepped across the Void, clenched his hands in determination. Ma vhenan, I will see you soon.

I will follow you into the dark

5SOS PREFERENCES #106: AU - HE'S THE BAD BOY AND YOU'RE THE GOOD GIRL - PART 5...
  • A/N: Well, I'm guessing this will be the final part. But, it might not be the end just yet. Stay tuned on my blog for more information.
  • Luke: The bell rang, announcing that the last class of the day was over. You took your time retrieving your stuff, seeing as you hadn't much to do that Friday afternoon. Slowly, you made your way out of the classroom. "Took you long enough", out of the corner of your eye, you saw Luke's tall frame leaning against the wall. "What are you doing here?", you asked, trying your best to not sound rude. "Waiting for you", he swiftly took your books, holding your hand with his free one. "Why?", you said, forcing your body not to tense up at his sweet touch. "Because I wanted to", he shrugged, intertwining his finger with yours. You looked at your hands, then at him. He looked so beautiful, almost nothing like the bad boy you used to see in him. But, you knew he was still there. You knew he hadn't changed at all. And you knew that people weren't only staring at you two because they thought you were an odd couple; they were also thinking 'that's the next girl that's gonna have her heart broken by Luke Hemmings'. And you knew better than to fall into his charms, but his voice was like an anesthesia that made your brain lazy and your bones numb, and it was dragging you directly to him. You hated yourself for being like all the other girls that fell for him - you were smarter than them. You knew what was going to happen. But, you didn't mind one bit. You were going to enjoy it while it lasted, and most surely cry when it was over. But, you still didn't have to think about that. "So", you said, putting his arm around your shoulder in a way that you were still holding hands and coming closer to his body, "How were your classes?".
  • Ashton: It didn't take long for Ashton to get to your house. What took you long was gaining courage to sneak out while your parents were sleeping - which he made pretty clear on the way to the party. And now, you were pressed against a wall, feeling like a fish out of the water. You weren't sure what you had expected from the party. Actually, you did know exactly what you had expected. But, now you felt like an idiot for thinking that Ashton Irwin, the bad boy, would spend the whole party talking to you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the good girl. It was only obvious, you now realized, that he was going to leave your side the moment you walked through the door and flirt with random girls all night long. What were you even doing there? You watched as a girl left Ashton alone and walked up to him. "Ashton", you said. "Yeah, babe?", he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist. "I think I'm going home", you struggled to get out of his grip. "What? Why?!", he asked. "'Cause I'm not having much fun", you said, "I don't even think I should've came in the first place". "C'mon, (Y/N)", he put each hand on one side of your waist. "No, really, Ashton. All you've ever done since we got here is ignore me and flirt with random girls". "Are you jealous?", he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Fuck you, Ashton", you rolled your eyes, turning around to leave him. "Wait, are you forgetting I'm your ride back home?", you heard his voice in your ear and felt his front pressed against your back. "I can get a cab", you shrugged. "You don't even know where we are", he had a good point - you were absolutely lost, "I'll drive you home". You knew that if you gave in now, you'd probably end up making out on the back of his car, and then texting each other the whole night long. You wanted to leave alone and go home to think it all through - but you knew Ashton was right. You couldn't leave alone when you had no idea where you were to begin with. "Fine", you huffed, walking off with him.
  • Michael: The dinner was mostly Michael eye fucking you and you avoiding his gaze. Yet, you were lucky enough to be told by your mom that you had to wash the dishes. And, obviously, Michael volunteered to help you. "So, (Y/N)", he said, putting a few plates on the sink, "Do you plan on getting on detention again tomorrow?". "Will you please just shut up?", you pleaded angrily. "Why do you keep ignoring your feelings towards me?", he chuckled, pressing his chest against your back, taking your hair in his hand and putting it all on one side of your shoulder. He started pressing a few kisses on your neck, rising to your earlobe. "We both know I turn you on", he nibbled on your earlobe, hands moving downwards on your body. "Michael", you said sternly, "Stop". "Are you sure you want me to stop?", he pressed a few more kisses to your neck - making sure to leave some marks. "Yes, Michael. Stop", you abruptly turned around. You hadn't quite calculated how close to him you would be when you turned - and it was very close. "Okay", he said, towering you and leaning down. The next think you know, you're sitting on the kitchen stand, Michael standing in between your legs. "I fucking hate you", you said in between kisses, tugging harshly at his hair. "I hate you more, princess", he smirked, pulling your hair a little at it's ends. "(Y/N), are you done yet?", you heard your mother's voice before you could push Michael away. "Uh, I", you stuttered, whole face turning red. "Oh," your mom said, feeling just as awkward as you were, "I'll come back later, then". "Fuck you, Michael", you turned to look at his smirking face once your mom had closed the kitchen door. "Better yet, let me fuck you", he moved closer to you, putting his hands on your knee. "No, really. Fuck off", you pushed his chest. "Are you sure you want that?", he raised his eyebrows. In your head, you concluded that the damage was already done. So, you could enjoy his lips for a little longer. "Fuck it", you mumbled, pulling him closer by his shirt.
  • Calum: "Great show!", you greeted Calum after his band gig, pecking his lip. "You thought so? Thanks", he smiled at you, pinching your bum lightly. "Yeah, I really liked it," you wrapped your arms around his neck. "How about you give me a small treat for it, huh?", he smirked and you blushed lightly, "C'mon", he dragged you to a door - which you assumed that was the backstage. He shut the door and locked it, pressing you against it a second later. One of your hands was playing with his hair, the other pulling him closer to you. His hands made their way to your bum, and you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. You weren't sure when you and Calum had gotten so intimate - that's 'cause you haven't. You wanted to believe that you weren't just another random girl for him. You wanted to believe you were different. But, you knew better than that. You knew that it would only be a matter of time before he was making out with another girl backstage after one of his gigs. Yet, why couldn't you let go of him? Spare the pain your heart was going to feel later. If you knew he was no good and you were nothing to him, why couldn't you just tell him to fuck off and walk back home? Because you wanted to be with him. You loved the way he kissed you; talked to you; touched you. You tried to shrug off the fact that you meant nothing to him when he meant so much to you. You tried to create an illusion that you were different to him, and he was falling for you just as hard as you were falling for him. But, you knew that if you created that, you would be even more heartbroken when it was over. So, you got it into your mind that you were nothing to him and that it would eventually end. "So, do you want to go back to my place or should I drive you home?", he broke the kiss. You knew what the right answer was. You knew, and it was on the tip of your tongue. It's now, you thought to yourself, spare the pain you're going to feel later - end this now. "No. I mean, we can go back to your place", you said.
Talk to me baby.

He took heavy steps through the crowded street. It was a Friday but all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and make his blanket a snuggle partner. “Excuse me.” Yet another sorry excuse for bumping into him. Without acknowledging the voice, Oikawa dragged his steps towards the bus station.

Pulling his jacket tighter around him, he sincerely hoped that he didn’t have to deal with people for the rest of the night. Oikawa has been working at the same cafe for the last two years and he did enjoy his time there though, there were night that the work took a toll on him. The never ending stream of young female customers fed his addiction for praises but having to deal with their constant demands did get a little tiring. Side-stepping to avoid another couple, whom were too engrossed with each other, Oikawa rolled his eyes again. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get a girlfriend. Oikawa probably could get any girl he want but his interest was of the same gender. Men whom he has tried flirting with had found him frivolous and attention seeking, sad to say, those men rarely went beyond a second date with him. A sigh passed his lips as he thought about his tragic love life.

Updating himself on his social media accounts, he stepped from foot to foot waiting for the bus that seemed to take forever to arrive, when a deep voice starting singing. Eyes flickering up from his phone screen, they widened as he met with the face singing one of his favorite songs. Standing along the streets, a guitar strapped across his front and the case opened by his feet, was a rather handsome face. Oikawa almost laughed. That face was not one he would have associated with a boyband song, much less a band that had stopped singing for years now. Dressed in a dark leather jacket, jeans and combat boots, the performer seemed to attract a decent sized crowd, Oikawa amongst them.

“I’m flying without wings.” Tanned fingers strummed the final chords to the song and Oikawa realised he had been staring. One, because he had missed his bus that was leaving right now. And two, dark eyes were staring back at him with a raised eyebrow. Oikawa tried to look elsewhere but failed. Yes, he may be a flirt but Oikawa was not going to deny that he was bad with flirting where it mattered. He’s been told one too many times by his best friend that his pick up lines were horrible. Not that it would ever work on Hanamaki. The whole not his cup of tea thing.

But, standing before him, was definitely his cup of tea, coffee, beer, whatever. He was definitely drinking that. Oikawa watched as the street performer bent forward to pick up a bottle. He stared even harder as Handsome raised the bottle to his lips. He was stared back and Oikawa could feel those eyes seeing right through him. Before he could embarrass himself with his wild imagination, Oikawa stepped onto the first bus that came, not missing the amused look on the handsome face as the performer started a new set of songs.

Keep reading

In Need of Assistance pt.2

Word Count: 2,848

Genre: idk angsty? still not sure lmao

It’s hard to be around movie star Taehyung.

WOW. It’s really been too long since I’ve last posted. Finals week hasn’t even started yet, but I did manage to get some free time! So here’s part 2. Also, big big thank you to @versigny for helping with the idea process! 

pt.1 / pt. 3


Taking a drunk Taehyung home shouldn’t have been a big deal. You did it all the time, like any loyal assistant would’ve done. It shouldn’t have been eating at your thoughts. It shouldn’t have been making you stir with confusion every time you thought back to the drunken boy sleeping in his apartment. It shouldn’t have been making you feel, dare you say it, compassionate towards Taehyung. And yet, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, with his deep, slurred voice echoing in your mind like some demented lullaby. Please, don’t go… I’m sorry, Y/N… That along with the mental image of his pleading gaze fixed onto you, it was enough to drive you mad with sleep deprivation. But you allowed yourself this one night to wallow in your weird mess of feelings, thinking, rather naively, that things would go back to normal the next morning. And like most things in your life, you were wrong. 

 Ever since, nothing had been the same. For starters, your phone was barren of any petty texts or urgent phone calls from the movie star. You’d wake up feeling refreshed and undisturbed, which felt like heaven initially, but after seeing how empty your phone was, you found yourself wondering whether Taehyung was alive or not, which made you cringe very hard. It was a vicious cycle you endured, in which could only be subdued slightly by you silently chanting excuses to yourself. 

 Your worrying is normal…Because you’re his assistant…Your worrying is normal…Because you’re his assistant. 

 Seeing Taehyung in person didn’t make things any better. For some reason, you were always met with his averted gaze, or quickened steps away from you. Whenever you asked him if he needed anything, you would get a short “no” in response. In some cases, he wouldn’t even talk to you at all, only offering brief nods or shakes of his head. You would’ve thought that not being needed was an assistant’s dream vacation, but Taehyung’s strange passiveness did nothing but weird you out and infuriate you to no end. You understood he was going through a break up, but that didn’t mean he had to take it out on you with his harsh silent treatment. 

 Apparently your foul mood showed through your exterior, since Jimin noticed easily. 

 “Is the work really that bad?” He chuckled as he settled down beside you. 

 Due to the lack of work from Taehyung, you’ve been keeping yourself busy by hungrily searching for and accepting any mundane jobs that crew members were too lazy to do. It was a nice way to distract yourself from the the jumble of emotions manifested within you. Currently, you were sitting on the concrete floor cleaning camera lenses. As you soon as you heard Jimin’s clear voice jingling through the air, the iron grip that you had on the cleaning rag lightened, along with your apparent scowl softening. He sat incredibly close to you, with his crossed legs touching knee to knee with yours. In normal circumstances, your heart would’ve stopped altogether. But the only feeling in your chest was it tightening in anxiety in regards to Taehyung, taking away from the butterflies you usually felt whenever Jimin was in less than a mile radius. Damn you, Taehyung, you angrily thought to yourself. 

 You plastered on the best smile you could muster, although the fakeness of it hit you hard like plastic. “It’s fine,” you cringed as you heard your voice go up an octave, adding onto the phoniness. “I’m fine.” 

 Jimin raised an eyebrow, concern spreading across his face. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine.” 

 Your fake smile grew even wider. “Totally.” You then ducked your head lower, focusing intently on wiping the clear glass in your grasp. You didn’t want Jimin to see the distress in your eyes. 

 Jimin’s expression didn’t waver. Instead, he leaned in slightly closer, much to your surprise. “Did Taehyung give you a hard time last night?” he asked in a hush whisper, as he tried to peer into your eyes. 

 The name drop made your head shoot up, stomach twisting in uneasiness. You brushed Jimin’s question off with a nervous chuckle. “No, he just got drunk again,” you answered. “I just had to pick him up, like usual.” 

 Jimin studied you with an unconvinced frown. He could sense you were keeping something inside, causing your bothered behavior, and whatever it was, had something to do with Taehyung, which irritated him a bit. But he did not pry any further, granting you the space he knew you wanted. “Alright,” Jimin sighed. “But I just want you to know th-“ 

 “Speak of the devil.” 

 You cut Jimin off with a breathy mutter as the sight of Taehyung walking into his trailer caught your attention. He wore the same empty face that he’d been giving you all week. “Sorry Jimin, I’ll get back to you later!” you called out as you hastily got up up from the floor and started to speed walk over to Taehyung’s destination. Each step you took fueled the frustration pent up within you, questions and curses ready to blow. You have had enough of Taehyung’s weird behavior and you were going to get to the bottom of it once and for all. 

Without any hesitation, you offered loud, hard knocks against his metal trailer door, your chest heaving and your thoughts seething. The longer you waited, the angrier you got. The door swung open to reveal a confused Taehyung, eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you. You’ve never been at his trailer before. “Y/N, wh-“ 

 “Ok, what is up Taehyung?” you bluntly asked in a bold voice, not even giving Taehyung a chance to finish his question. Surrounding crew members were staring at the scene unfolding in front of them, subtly pooling around the area. “Why are you like this? All I’ve ever done was help you with literally everything, and-“ 

 You were met with a large hand over your mouth and a hard pull into his trailer.

 “Could you be any louder?” he hissed. 

 Once he took his hand off, you didn’t even miss a beat, your voice raised even louder. You could feel the wave of fury rising even higher inside you the longer you stood before him. “I just don’t understand! I didn’t spend all this time busting my ass to deserve this cold shoulder from you.” 

 Taehyung only stared at you with widened eyes, unformed words building up into his throat. He had no idea how to respond, this situation being so foreign to him. You’ve always just took everything he served you without complaint, every remark and every command. Sure, he always felt bad about it later, but your lack of protest just made it easier for him to disassociate from guilt. He’s never seen you so assertive, with your voice raised to a volume that he’s never heard before. All he could do was stare. 

 An agonizing moment of silence passed between you two. When Taehyung finally opened his mouth, a hint of fear settled in the back of your mind, and you braced yourself for the words “you’re fired” to come shooting out like bullets. His shocked face had now changed into an unreadable expression, his eyes now blank.

 “Go get me a latte.” 

 Wait, what? You looked at the boy in front of you with mild disbelief, unsure of what had just happened. Opening your mouth slightly, you weren’t sure what you were going to unleash, but much to your surprise, you found yourself nodding. 

 “Right away,” you said with no hint of emotion in your voice, quickly exiting the trailer. 

 Even though you probably should’ve been mad at the fact that Taehyung dismissed your confrontation and avoided your question, all you really felt while you went off to the nearest coffee shop was relief, as twisted as that was. It seemed like normalcy had been restored, the familiar feeling of performing a task for Taehyung actually causing your mood to calm. It was a bit pathetic, but hey, at least it distracted you from your annoying feelings. 

 Those thoughts were still running through your mind as you handed him the newly acquired cup of coffee, trying to ignore the way your heart had skipped a beat as his long fingers brushed against yours in the exchange. 

 “Here you go,” you said as a farewell before making your way out the room.

 “Thank you, Y/N.” it was spoken in a voice so gentle, you couldn’t believe that it came from Taehyung. Stopping at the doorway, you glanced back at him. And in that short glance, you saw something in his eyes. It was a mixture of remorse and gratefulness, the whole gaze soft and meaningful. It was as if he was thanking you for more than just coffee. With a sudden warmth growing in your chest, you replied in a voice equally as soft. 

 “No problem, Taehyung.” 


 Days had passed and it seemed like everything had been restored back to its natural order, for the most part. Although no longer avoiding you, Taehyung’s demeanor had changed for perhaps the better. He still asked you to do things, but his demands were surprisingly reasonable and considerate, and after each completed task he would thank you, a habit that had never occurred in the past. You had to admit, the new behavior was pleasant to be around, but you couldn’t help but detect a tinge of melancholy behind all of his actions, his softness masking a certain gloom. You wanted to ask him about it, but you already kind of knew what it was all about. 

 Y/N, change of plans. The location shoot is today. Make sure Taehyung gets there in time. 

 That text from the director, Namjoon, was what you were scanning over and over again as you hurriedly made your way up Taehyung’s steps, already five minutes late to the shoot. Rapidly banging on the door, you were taken aback when met with him bare faced and messy haired, the boy still dressed in sweats. 

 “Y/N?” he greeted in a long, low yawn, rubbing his eyes in the process. 

 “You’re not dressed?” you scoffed with widened eyes in disbelief. “I texted you an hour ago.” 

 “Well, obviously I was asleep,” he gestured to his loose fitting attire. “What’s going on?” 

 You grabbed his hand while dragging him towards the cab you arrived in. “The location shoot got moved to today, we’re late.” 

 “Wait, I’m not-“

 “You can change when we get to the set,” you quickly shot out, eyes still focused ahead. “We have to go.” 

 You more or less shoved Taehyung into the vehicle and quickly slid in beside him, too frazzled to notice the close proximity between you two. After reciting the address to the driver, you sat back and stared out the window, awkward silence progressively growing more prominent within the taxi cab. When it was too much to bear, you turned your attention toward Taehyung beside you, his eyes droopy and blank. He looked incredibly exhausted, and it wasn’t a mystery on how he got to that state.

 “You were drinking last night weren’t you?” you asked in a soft voice, cutting through the silence. 

 “Yeah,” his shoulders dropped down and his head hung slightly lower, sadness prevalent in his face. “Seoyun was-“ he caught his tongue when his mind finally registered his words and he shook his head, eyes casted downwards. “Nothing.” 

 “She doesn’t deserve to be thought about, she fucking cheated on you.”

 Taehyung turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “You went through my phone?” 

 Your mouth went dry when you realized what you had subconsciously admitted to. “I-I mean…well..” you sputtered. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry.” 

 No change reflected in Taehyung’s dead face as he gazed ahead. “It’s whatever.”

 You wanted to look away, sensing that this atmosphere the both of you were now immersed in was beyond a assistant/boss relationship. And you didn’t know how to deal with that. But at the same time, a striking urge to hold him in his disheveled state shot through your chest like a flickering lightening bolt, hot and burning. You bit your lip at the sight of a sulking Taehyung, wanting to do so many things, but stuck in a frozen position of not being able to do anything at all. It had been a while since you were plagued by confusing affection towards Taehyung, and you had started to miss it, much to your own dismay. 

 At the split second of you turning your attention back to the car window, Taehyung caught you with a penetrating stare radiating off his eyes. “Did I deserve it?” 

 The question bounced around against the walls of your mind as you stared back at him, looking confused and tongue tied. All you could respond with at the moment was a stuttered, “W-what?” 

 His stone-like expression did not show signs of cracking as he continued on. “Am I a bad person? Is that why she left? Is that why people leave?” The speed of his words progressively quickened, his thoughts leaking out of him as soon as they were manifested. 

 You studied him steadily, his neutral façade now revealing a frenzy of distraught emotions. “No,” your firm answer slowed down Taehyung’s breathing. “You’re a dick, but not a bad person.” 

 That drew a little chuckle out of him, which calmed you down in return. With a deep sigh, Taehyung laid his head back onto the leather seats and stared up at the dirty taxi cab ceiling, showcasing stains that made you question how it could’ve ended up there. 

 “I don’t like myself.” You shot a surprised glance at Taehyung’s confession. “I do know how I treat people sometimes,” He turned his head over to face you, looking back into your stare with sad, hooded eyes. “How I treat you.” 

 You forced yourself not to respond, patiently waiting for Taehyung to finish getting all of his bottled emotions out of the way, as you could tell that he’d been harboring them for quite some time. 

 He let out an additional sigh as a subtle layer of self deprecation spread across his features. “I can’t keep anyone around and I don’t see the point of trying anymore. People leave and I can’t stop it. And I know it’s all my fault, it really is…I…” Taehyung’s voice trailed off into silence as his eyes showed off a slight glossy gleam that sent a small chill down your spine. You weren’t prepared for Taehyung to look so…vulnerable. 

 “Hey, I mean, I haven’t left yet.” You replied softly, your mind reeling back to Taehyung’s drunken words that had occurred weeks ago. 

 Taehyung laughed, and a familiar tone creeps into his voice. “Yeah, because you’re out of your mind.” 

 You rolled your eyes at his remark. “I’m trying to comfort you here,” you huffed, although a tiny smile found its way onto your face. 

 As he caught sight of your smile, Taehyung’s expression softened and without thinking much about anything, he placed a hand upon your knee. 

 “No, but,” He looked at you with a sincere gaze. “Thank you.” 

 “It’s nothing, don’t worry it.” You quickly replied, internally freaking out about the fact that you actually liked the feeling of his hand on you. 

 “I know I’ve been an ass,” As he was talking, Taehyung’s hand was still in place on your leg, the presence of it growing stronger and more distracting. “And you’re right, all you’ve done is be helpful, I really-“

 “It’s okay, Taehyung.” You veiled your trembling voice with reassurance. “It’s good that you’re aware. Now just work on it.” 

Acting on impulse, you laid your hand on top of his own. Your warmth had Taehyung swallowing roughly, feeling a weird twist in his stomach that he’d never really experienced before, especially towards you. Almost like an automatic reflex, his thumb smoothed over your knee, sending more shivers coursing through your whole body. 

 Taehyung was simply staring, but it was with such intensity that you thought you would practically melt into a puddle in front of him. With your heart running a marathon and the reoccurring flurry of feelings swirling up a storm within you, you could sense your face slowly being pulled towards Taehyung’s, his expression almost dream-like as his eyes were casted downwards at the bottom lip caught between your teeth. You knew exactly what was happening and did absolutely nothing to refrain yourself. Fuck it, you thought, as the only thing separating you from Taehyung was what seemed like half an inch of space and slow, heavy breaths. His hand gripped tighter on your knee. 

 “Hey.” 

 You merely brushed across Taehyung’s parted lips as you turned to the source of interruption. “Your ride is over.” The taxi driver stated, rather annoyed. 

 “Oh,” you let out an embarrassed breath, a warm flush increasing in shade upon your cheeks. As soon as you paid the driver, you bolted out of the vehicle in a panic. What just happened?

anonymous asked:

I went through your promt thingy and I have A LOT to ask so I'll just list them and you can pick the one you want (or several if you are extra inspired) Any boy- 8 , 38, 47 Micheal- 26, 34 Ashton- 48 I don't mean to sound bratty or anything its just that your writing gives me feels an I WANT FEELS BC HEY EVERYBODY WRECKED ME AND AHDKSOWN😭😭

I took a screenshot of this and I’ll get around to some more from it when I grab the time, but for now I went with Ashton and 48! :)

insp.

Ashton liked keeping his relationship with you private.  It gave him a sense of security that people knew little about you, only knowing that you were his girlfriend and that he was very happy to be the lucky guy you called a boyfriend.     And sure, you had your social media on public, and were nice to fans of course, but you never gave out much of what went on between the two of you, or about yourself much either, because you knew that made Ashton feel safe.

He tugged you closer to his side, pressing a kiss on your temple as your arms wrapped under the warmth of his jacket.  There were some fans out and about the radio station ready to catch sight of the boys, but that would wait for a moment, since he wanted to hug you a while longer.  Ashton looked down at you when you suddenly giggled, a smile coming onto his face at the pretty facial expression that put on you,

“What’s up, cutiepie?” He questioned with a peck on your lips at the end of his sentence.  You shook your head softly, sending little tingles up his spine when you began making little trails with your fingertips,

“You’re always so cuddly and it makes me happy.” You explained, tearing a hand away from his back to go up and brush a little stray section of hair from the center of his forehead.  He watched your eyes as they moved around to look his appearance over. “You’re really affectionate.” 

“Oh, that’s a good adjective.” He grinned stroking back your hair, “Been needing more to use up when the interviewers ask me to describe you.” You only giggled, cupping his cheeks as you kissed him softly, and then let your hands fall to his chest so you could nudge him towards the door of the car, the other boys waiting probably impatiently outside.  

“See you at the hotel later.” Ashton trailed his hand from the top of your arm to down to your own little appendage as he slid out of the car.  Dark boots hit the white pavement after he’d mumbled out a discreet I love you, and shut the door swiftly.  The fans were giddy at his delayed arrival, asking questions if it had been because he and you were talking.  And those questions he brushed away with a shy smile, but when they went ahead and asked what you were like, he didn’t answer.  He wanted too, but he found himself scribbling autographs and taking selfies too lost in thought of how to actually talk about you.  

“It would take a bit for me to answer that right.” He’d said at the end of the meet, about to be dragged inside by security, but the question still puzzled him more than ever.  Maybe it was because you threw out that adjective in the SUV, or mentioned last night that he always acted carefully.  He remembered overhearing you on the phone with a friend and had smiled when you expressed how adorable it was when he was passionate about things.  But now he just kind of wondered why he could never do the same for you.  “She’s just, like, really amazing.” Had been the way he spoke about you during that interview today.

“What’s up?” You asked when he slumped down face first into the puffy white sheets that were way too cold to the touch from that annoying hotel AC.  He groaned, muffling the noise because of the mattress.  “Ash?” You joined him lying your head sideways and reaching to play with his hair.  “Bad interview?”

“No, it’s not that.” He muttered, turning onto a tanned cheek to look back at you.  Lips were pursed into a pout that looked somewhat childish due to his cheek being smushed up by the mattress, “Its just that I can’t describe you and it makes me mad.”  Ashton reached, wrapping arms around your waist to pull you to him, “I’m always asked about you, and I’m not capable of finding words good enough.  I’m always stumped and look really dumb because I just say that you’re great or amazing, but it’s because there’s no way to string words in the right order and get a good description of you out of them.” Your cheeks had turned a soft pink throughout the proclamation,

“Baby, that was honestly the sweetest thing you could’ve said right there.” He kissed your gently at the end of your sentence, casting a glance down to your lips as he parted back,

“Yeah, but,” He shrugged, chuckling before pulling you in even closer and burying his face against your chest, “It’s just never going to be enough.”

anonymous asked:

request for jungkook angst: he's angry that you don't see him as a 'man' he's still a child to you and when he confesses he loves you, you deny him bc you're scared to get hurt in a relationship and he gets mad bc he's been the nice guy for so long when all your ex's were jerks

Well, this message was cheerful and about how I’m finally getting back to two posts per day, but then tumblr crashed… So, angsty opening for an angsty story. Hope you enjoy~

Title: Hurt
Genre: Angst
Members: Jungkook
Words: 1139

Jungkook was tired of it. Tired of you treating him like a child. Sure, he might act like one most of the time, but that was because that was the only thing he could do to get your attention, and to be sure that you knew he wasn’t like your ex’s. He liked you, or maybe he loved you, and yet he didn’t know how to tell you. He was always acting like a kid, trying to make you laugh because he loved the sound, and so he wasn’t sure how you would react to him being serious.

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You are my...

Request: Hey! I was wondering if you could do a one shot or story where the main character is a female in tvd and kol takes an interest in her and wants to keep her out of harms way but fails because Katherine wanted to get back at the mikaelsons for hunting her for 500 years and so she kills her. Maybe have the main character die in kol’s arms because of Katherine and have it dramtic and reallyyy sad. Sorry if you can’t understand what I’m asking you, but its ok. I really love your writing. Thank you💜

The first time I saw him was at a book store, he was reading Thoreau, I was reading Austen. I didn’t know it then, but looking back, it was one of my favorite moments with him. He eventually looked up from his book and smiled at me, I felt a blush creep up on my cheeks when he did. He had obviously noticed me looking at him but I imagined it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. He looked like a greek god, perfectly sculpted but he had this smirk on his face that said ‘I know something you don’t.’

After my few long moments of gawking at him, he came over and for a moment I hoped I could drop death right then and there rather than face what would probably be accusations why I was staring and if I’m some stalker. However, the sweet smile of his never left his face even for a moment, his eyes told me showed me a sense of want, maybe even a sort of hunger. It would have been terrifying if it hadn’t been for that damn smile of his.

“Hi sweetheart, I’m Kol Mikaelson.” An accent. Kol Mikaelson. His name rolled off my tongue like the name of some foreign dish at a five star restaurant. Everything about him screamed elegance, almost royalty. My heartbeat picked up and by the amused grin on his face, I thought that he could tell, that he could hear my heart pounding in my chest, but that was impossible; I’m sure my face was as red as a tomato or something.

“Uh, hi there, I’m Y/N…sorry for staring…I was just interested in your book.” His grin grew wider obviously sensing my lie, the way he was staring me down was nauseating but somehow in a good way. I tried to think of the way he smelled and the words he said to me, because his words were always wise, well thought out phrases. After those brief moments, I bumped into him everywhere, at the train station, my favorite restaurants, even the opera my mother insisted on going to. Maybe he was always here and I just hadn’t noticed him, and yet deep down I knew that this couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe it was fate.

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I’ll Think About It

He couldn’t count the amount of times he had proposed to her

Chapter 14: The Rise & Fall of Roy Mustang’s Mustache 

“Um, Captain Hawkeye?”

“Yes Fuery?”

“The Fuhrer fell asleep at his desk again.”

“Thank you for letting me know, I’ll take care of it.”

Riza sighed as she rose from her desk and let herself into Mustang’s office. Sure, Roy was no stranger to napping during the day, but that was when he was colonel. Not that he wasn’t important back then, but his new rank certainly had given him more responsibility and Riza knew he only slept at the office when he was overwhelmed. Before it had been extra research, now it was that in addition to spreading himself too thin. He tried to hide from her the best he could, insisting he could balance the usual duties of the Fuhrer as well as several side projects. Try as he might, there simply weren’t enough hours in a day and she wasn’t about to let him make himself sick or risk the press seeing him like this.

“Sir?” she said sternly, clearing her throat. He jolted awake, attempting to make it look as though he hasn’t just been passed out.

“Hawkeye, yes, you’re here for the case files?” if his messy hair didn’t give him away, his voice did.

“I collected them two hours ago sir,” she said gently. “Sir, if you need to leave early to catch up on your sleep, we understand.”

“Nonsense, captain,” he insisted. “I can’t let my team pick up my slack.”

“If you keep falling asleep, that won’t be optional, sir. How can I trust you’ve read what you’ve signed when you keep dozing off?”

“I’m fine,” he said firmly. “Besides, it’s just this week.” That’s what he said last week. “It’s a little hectic, I’ve been visiting the orphanage more often and state alchemist exams are coming up, these are things I need to oversee personally. I assure you, my work will not suffer.”

“If you say so,” she was not convinced. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you: if you fall asleep in the office again, there will be consequences.”

He smiled at her. “I assure you it won’t happen again.”

It did.

The very next day, Riza walked in to find the fuhrer, leaning back in his chair snoring. What could she do? True, her job was protecting him but she couldn’t spend her entire day keeping him awake without falling behind herself. Needless to say, paperwork did little to keep him alert. As much as they joked about, he knew she wouldn’t ever actually shoot him for falling asleep, so how could she follow through with her threat?

Suddenly inspired, Hawkeye acted quickly. True, the whole thing was rather childish of her, she hadn’t acted this way since the two of them were young but its how she knew it would work. She was almost giddy, though unworried about being caught should he awaken. She finished quickly and excited his office as if nothing was out of the ordinary and sat at her desk to wait.

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For Lack Of  A Better Title (Ch. 2)

LAST PART OF MY BDAY GIFT FOR @0netype!!! 

I might end up posting this on ao3 but I haven’t decided yet. Anyhow, I’m honestly not totally sure myself what direction this story is taking but we’ll see

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5Chapter 6 pt. 1 |

AO3

And here we go

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jace-waylnds  asked:

a klaus/caroline/loki love triangle for your mini drabble thing-y? please please please i'll literally do anything i'm thirsty for this :')

Possibly an unpopular opinion but Thor is my favourite corner of the Marvel universe! I’ve thought of this scenario before but never had the opportunity to test it out, so thank you! I limited myself to 45 minutes for these things but I hope it works! 

A Certain Type of Man

Klaus almost doesn’t answer his phone. An unknown number rarely means good things. It’s not as though he’s free with his information. All the better to prevent every upstart witch or bitter vampire with a grudge from thinking that he cares about whatever petty grudge they have and the doubtlessly shoddy plotting they’re doing.

It does get tedious, witnessing so many failures.

He’s just landed in Amsterdam and has sent a compelled human to stow his things in his hotel. It’s not as if he has anything better to do at the moment.

He lets the call connect, drawls out a bored, “Hello.”

Immediately hears a rush of air, a relieved sigh spilling across the line, and a woman’s voice that he has no trouble placing, “Oh, thank god. I had no idea if your number was still the same and no idea how to track you down.”

Klaus pauses, throws a harsh glare at the man who nearly plows into him, “Caroline. A pleasure. How long has it been?”

He has no trouble imagining the rolling of her eyes, the impatient set of her brows. “Cut the crap, Klaus. You know exactly how long it’s been.”

He does. She’d stopped by New Orleans twelve years ago fresh off a tour of Europe, bright eyed and bursting with stories and questions. They’d had dinner, many many drinks. Watching her speak, gesticulate wildly and laugh without any hesitance remains a favorite memory of Klaus’. He’d done his very best to coax her into a longer stay, and though her eyes had lingered on his mouth and her body had swayed closer to his than strictly appropriate Caroline had refused to be tempted.

Still so very stubborn, her will an iron thing. And though he’d always found it part of her charm Klaus had been pleased to see a softening, however slight it had been. Once upon a time she’d not have dawdled at a table with him, would have taken off the instant she felt she could. He took it as a victory. An indication that one day he’d be successful.

She’d left in the morning. With a hug and a promise to see him around before she’d headed back to Mystic Falls to pay her respects to her parents and drop in on the Bennett witch. Her plan had been to head to South America next and he’s heard reports from various contacts that she’d spent a number of years there before leaving again. Whispers of her whereabouts had been few and far between ever since.

He realizes he’s taken too long to respond, and that Caroline’s breaths are anxious, harsh and too fast. He can hear her moving about, shuffles and the odd thumps. He begins walking again, more alert. He has no idea why she’d be nervous, he’s always made it clear that he welcomes hearing from her. “It’s been longer than I’d like, I must admit. Where are you, love?”

“New York, but I’m leaving. Like, right now.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow, “Are you in trouble, Caroline?”

Her motions still and her voice comes out resigned, “I’m so sorry, Klaus. I really hate that I’m calling you like this but I have no better option. I am in way over my head.”

“What happened?” Klaus clips out. They’ll deal with the apologies later, once he’s assured her safety.

“Well, it all started when I met this guy…”

He grits his teeth, forces himself not to shatter the phone in his hand. “And…”

“And in the beginning it was great. He was charming, educated, witty. Even had an accent.”

Not something Klaus needs to know. He pushes past the flash of jealousy, the twitching of his fingers that ugres violence. “Sounds like quite the catch.”

“On paper, yep. Until I found out he was chock full of issues.”

“Issues?” Klaus questions.

“Yeah. Who knew I was a beacon for megalomaniacs with daddy issues and way too much power to deal with them normally? I’d have suggested therapy but then I found out he’s not exactly human. And super old do I figured it would be useless.”

“You couldn’t tell he was a vampire?” Klaus asks incredulously. He finds it hard to believe. Caroline’s always been clever, and is closing in on half a century of vampirism.

She huffs, sounding offended. “Of course I could’ve. He isn’t a vampire. He’s an alien. Technically. Though he prefers to be thought of as a god. I wasn’t exaggerating about the issues.”

Klaus finds himself halting again, blinking in confusion. He’s never heard any concrete evidence that other beings exist but he’s always allowed for the possibility given the universes vastness and the tentative steps humans have made to explore it. “An alien,” he repeats.

“Yeah, shocked me too. And hey, I don’t like to discriminate but he seems to think I should accompany him to Asgard, wherever the hell that is. Isn’t being all that understanding about the fact that I’m pretty fond of Earth.”

Klaus happened to be quite fond of Caroline being on earth, would do anything in his power to ensure she stayed within his reach. “What do you need?”

“To hide. He’s going to get called back in like a month. I need a witch. A powerful one since this guy’s no stranger to magic. I don’t want to drag Bonnie into this. She’s got her hands full with teenage baby witches.”

Klaus nods, already making a mental list. “You’re packing?”

“Not well but I’ve got the basics together.”

“Find a car. Not one you’ve ever been in before. Compel whatever human you steal it from not to miss it and drive out of the city. I’ll text you directions to a private airstrip. A plane will be waiting. By the time you’ve landed I’ll have a witch who can hide you.”

She seems calmer, and Klaus is glad. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “Where am I going?”

“You’re coming to me, love,” Klaus tells her. And he’ll not hear any arguments about it.

“Probably smart. Since you’re the most powerful being on earth.”

She’d clearly mocking him, her voice having dipped low and teasing. Klaus ignores it, “Precisely. I’ll see you soon, Caroline.”

She thanks him again before she says goodbye and Klaus changes course, heading back to the airport, head down as he sends texts to get things arranged. He knows just the witch to contact, will call in a favor he’s been saving for a very long time.

Caroline, and the month they’ll spend together (more if he can manage it) waiting for her too persistent suitor to depart, is worth it.

Author: limitlessmonster
Title: Texting Blunders
Pairing: AoKise
Genre: Fluff/Slight Angst/Fluff
Word Count: Approx 2400
Summary: Aomine learns the hard way just how easy it is to misinterpret text messages from Kise.

Based off of this prompt and partially inspired by this song.
A/N: Since our muses started off their relationship with text messages, I thought this was appropriate. :D This was supposed to be posted for the muses’ official one year anniversary on 01/30/15, but it’s a little late because I’m a shit who can’t stop procrastinating. I hope you enjoy the fluffy anyway. ;D

Always for this pos, the Kise to my Aho.

On AO3.

It’s a funny thing, going from friends to something else, something more confusing, more overwhelming, just… more.

When it starts, Aomine isn’t sure what it is exactly; he feels odd and awkward and suddenly more self conscious when Kise is around, and Aomine Daiki doesn’t get odd, awkward, or self conscious. Kise seems just as oblivious to it then as he does now. Except now, Kise is more popular with both girls and guys and Aomine really has a hard time accepting the random times he feels like he wants to punch something whenever he’s forced to be around it.

It used to be that his world consisted of two things: basketball and his impressive collection of gravure magazines. He can handle those things, the easy things. He’s learned to live in his bubble perfectly happy with his limited scope of interests. And then one day, Kise Ryouta isn’t just his friend, isn’t just someone he plays one on one with when he needs something more challenging than whatever drills Imayoshi has him doing during practice. Suddenly, Kise Ryouta becomes Kise Ryouta, and Aomine feels a little dizzy and maybe a little sick when he realizes that maybe he doesn’t mind the change at all.

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Behind Locked Doors

Dad-found-a-runaway-somewhere-and-couldn’t-resist-taking-her-home-because-he’s-a-softie-with-protection-issues-inside-au

A/N: This is my first time writing in this style but I liked it. Carmilla/Laura, Danny/Laura for good measure, might develop it into the OT3 later if I get inspiration

When your dad comes home one night with a girl thin enough to be dead, and pale enough to confirm it, a million and one questions shoot through your mind.

Who was she? Where did he find her? Why would he pick her up, or even touch this stranger when you aren’t even allowed to go into town alone?

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anonymous asked:

Ziam 23!

★Send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble★

23. “Just once.”

★Previous numbers★


Looking back, Liam can’t help but snort at his teenage self’s naiveté, a loud laugh escaping him and almost waking his boyfriend next to him. Zayn doesn’t wake up, though, grumbling something unintelligible, stirring in the sheets like he just knows he’s being disturbed from his afterglow-induced sleep.

“Sorry,” Liam mouths, rubbing his hand over buzzed, short hair. His hand slides ever so adoringly along Zayn’s cheekbones, and when Zayn sighs in content at the tender gesture, Liam chuckles, aware that he’s now forgiven— not that Zayn will even remember any of this in the morning.

But then Liam’s back to his first thoughts and memories, wondering how all of this began, how he accidentally found one the most beautiful things in his life. And while he’s unsure why they keep tossing the word “accident” and its derivatives around, making it seem that neither have ever owned a dictionary, it’s perhaps the best way to explain it, because neither Liam nor Zayn knows how they got where they are today.

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