your impossible voice

‘Best Friends, Apparently’ Part Seven: A Guy Like Me (Michael M x Reader)

y’all know the drill, i live and breath solely bc of feedback, and its always Greatly Appreciated :-)

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: rape mention, swearing, physical violence

part one   part two   part three   part four   part five   part six      part eight

You heard a car door slam outside, and you turned your head for a moment, before deciding it was probably one of your neighbors.

And then you heard someone trying to unlock your front door.

“Y/N, I thought your parents weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” Jeremy said, and you stared at the door, eyebrows drawing together.

“They aren’t, I don’t know who else would-” You said, before you felt your blood run cold.

“Gabe took Michael’s key before he left yesterday,” You whispered, and you felt Michael’s arm tighten around you.

Your front door swings open, hitting the wall beside it and you see Gabe’s silhouette, outlined by a golden sunset that would’ve been beautiful if not for the circumstances. He stormed toward the living room, and you could feel Michael’s heart begin to race.

You never did like storms.

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Credence Barebone x Reader

Rain fell fiercely, soaking the poor souls that passed by the dark streets in a hurry to just get home after a hard day of work.

His quiet, though watchful eyes stared at the people from above, blurred little ants that ran to escape the heavy water drops, same ones that hit against the thick window he stood by. His cheap hotel room was simple as himself; gray walls, lack of furniture and small bathroom with a tub that barely had space for his form.

He was a ticking bomb, but in his loneliness, he covertly learned how to control it.

He was out of radar and living in the shadows, gladly managing to escape Grindelwald’s grip. For all he knew, everyone in New York thought he was dead. At least he liked to think that way; deep inside he still had the feeling that the wizard knew about his whereabouts and that paranoid feeling of being watched never really faded away. Boston seemed like a good place to live, so far.

It was all going smoothly. No one minded him. He got a plain job and no one asked him questions, no one cared about where he was from, no one seemed to give him a second glance. It was much like New York itself…

… Until he met you.

You came along, pierced his heart and made yourself at home without any permission.

You were the woman who crashed into his life uninvited and ruined everything he worked so hard to sustain. Now it seemed as if to stop thinking about you, as simple as it sounded, was an impossible task. Your voice, your laugh, the way you would batter your eyelashes at him and blush whenever he looked at you the right way… Or was it wrong way? He did not even know.

Credence did not have a clue. He had never felt that way before.

He closed his eyes and sighed. It was not like him. What was happening?

All his life, Credence was deprived of love and affection. The closest he felt to cared about was when Tina saved him from his mother and when Mr. Scamander tried to help him, but that was a decade ago or more. He lost count.

These people were in the past, a past he wished to leave behind at all costs.

He did not need love. He was fine without it.

He could not trust anyone but himself.

So why did you insist on showing up? Or why was it that he often found himself inside the doors of the fancy club you sang at? Why did you want to destroy the walls he worked so hard to build back after feeling so betrayed by Mr. Graves, or whoever he thought was him?

He needed to let it go, to let you go.

He could not let you in. It had to stop.

He had to forget about you. He needed to push the thought of you away.

You did not know how long you spent looking at the same spot of the adorned mirror that reflected your exhausted complexion.

You saw him.

He did not notice you at all.

You could not stop the ironic chuckle that escaped your throat.

Since you turned sixteen… All those years you spent taking advantage of your stunning beauty, using men, making the rich give you all kinds of jewelry and luxurious gowns, shoes, taking you to the most expensive parties and clubs… You were charming, owner of a powerful and lovely voice, not to mention an actress of undeniable talent.

It was useless with him, though.

He simply did not see you.

You would get on stage with eyes that looked out for him and him only. Rare times, he would be there. In those days, it was as if the show was performed only for him. Nobody else existed in the crowd and still, every time your eyes met, he looked away, taking a nonchalant sip of whatever beverage he always had, his free hand inside his pocket, as if you were just a cheap act, as if you meant nothing.

You sighed, staring at your reflection once more, putting on a fake smile, the one that got you through every night.

How cruel life could be.

Months passed since you had last seen him.

It was crazy, you knew. A lady should not be doing this, but then again… Could you really be considered a lady? Who were you? You had no idea. Only thing you knew was that you always got what you wanted and right then, there was only one thing you wanted…


You were used to not seeing him for days, but he would show up at least once a week. Never gone for weeks, months! It was absurd! It was outrageous!

It was driving you insane.

You needed your dose of him and you had enough of the abstinence.

You knew you should not be doing what you were about to, but you felt crazed and acted as such. When you think you have nothing to lose, you are inclined to throw caution and common sense to the wind.

Footsteps were heard, louder and louder. Your heart raced. Was it he? You had second thoughts; biting one of your perfectly polished nails, you thought that if it was not him, maybe you should just leave and forget about this madness.

As the doorknob turned, though, you knew it was too late to go back.

After torturing minute of silence, you heard the door slide open. The pale moonlight lit up his face in the darkness as he moved.

You stared at him from across the room. As soon as his eyes fell upon you, he paused, a flash of shock showing through his stare.

You observed patiently, making no sound. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he took off his coat, let it hung up by the door, finally looking at you once more, and then out of his window. You leaned against his wall, staring at his ethereal complexion touched by the blueish rays of light.

“What are you doing in my room?” His deep, now steadier voice inquired, so cold and distant.

You knew you should feel discouraged by his words. You should be embarrassed. You probably should apologize and leave; you had intruded his place – it took you no more than a charming smile to the gatekeeper, an autograph and it was all needed to have his keys and a permit to get inside the building.You were out of line and you knew it.

You did not care, though.

You needed your dose of him. You wanted to look at him; you thought it would be enough to satisfy your heart.

Big mistake.

“I had to see you.” You stated, your enchanting voice faltering just slightly.

He hesitated. You watched the clash of feelings inside his eyes, but it was not long until that blank, expressionless look was back on his face.

He waited for you to speak, but no more words came. He closed his eyes, a hand running through his now disheveled, short but messy hair.

He had to push you away.

“Very well. You saw me. Please leave, now.”

Again, no words came from you. He took a deep breath. You were too persistent and he did not have the will to waste time with all of it. He was not like the men he thought you clung to. What did you want from him?

“Please do not let me ask you again.” Credence pressed on, noticing your coat and picking it up as if to give you a clue he was serious about it, opening the door and looking at his feet, waiting for you to move.

“Alright.” You whispered, sighing. Walking towards the door where he stood, you watched as he held out your coat for you to take, not even lifting his eyes to spare you one last glance.

It hurt. It hurt terribly and you fought the urge to press your hand to your heart.

“Y/N.” You spoke, so close that he could feel the lovely scent that came from your hair and clothes. It was somehow intoxicating.

He hesitated again. He should not care about it. He did not ask your name. In fact, he knew it from the many posters around town, posters that announced your shows, always showing your beautiful smiles and poses.

“Credence.” He murmured, his voice hoarse, raw.

Your heart skipped a thousand beats in one spare second.

It happened too fast… Before he could anticipate it, your hand reached out and touched his cheek tenderly. He hastily took a step back, as if you had burned him. You gasped softly, alarmed, recoiling and trying hard to ignore the sharp stab that assaulted your heart once more.

“Please leave, get out. Now! Get out!” His voice was louder and desperate.

You did not think twice and nodded nervously, storming out of the small apartment, tears streaming down your face as you hurried down stairs, walking out the building and running as fast as your heels allowed, the cold heavy rain striking every part of your body.

Credence breathed heavily, horrified. He stared at the opened door after a moment; his own heartbeats were painful inside his chest.

You probably hated him now.

It was probably for the good, as well.

So why did he feel so… Wrong?

He was about to run a hand through his hair again, but was stopped as he realized he was still holding your coat. He sighed, helplessly. He lived in a distant part of the town. It was a fact you had to cross a long way to reach him. Now you were out in the freezing rain in that ridiculously thin dress, most likely soaked to the bone. With no coat.

He grabbed his own coat and followed your steps the best he could. Luckily, your high, expensive and now ruined heels prevented you from going very far.

“Y/N!” He tried, calling out for you.

Your heart almost stopped, but you forced yourself to ignore his voice, walking faster instead.

Credence frowned, irritated. He definitely was not used to this. Where all people this confusing or was it only this woman?

Finally catching up, he hesitated before closing his hand around your slim arm and pulling you to a halt, accidentally making you spin and crash against his chest.

“Sorry, I…” He stared, blushing lightly.

“No, please save it.” You cut him, shakily. Your tears streamed down with the rain, ruining your make up. “You were in your right, I was completely out of line and I do apologize. Now, if you will excuse me.” You bowed shortly before turning around again to leave.

You did not go far, though, for he still had his soft, although firm grip on your arm.

“What?” You hissed, annoyed, feeling utterly humiliated and broken.

“You forgot this.” He stated, both now soaked from head to toe.

You looked at him and then at his hand, spotting your then ruined coat.

You blinked a couple of times, feeling a new wave of shame washing through… And laughed bitterly.

“Of course! Why, thank you, kind sir!” You exclaimed, feeling ridiculous. “And here was I, thinking you actually had come after me, that you were worried. No! You just wanted to return me a spoiled coat!”

He frowned. “I think the only spoiled thing here is you, miss.”

His words felt like a slap on your face. You tugged your arm free. “It was a mistake. I should never have come after you.” You spat, as a wounded animal, walking away again.

Credence had no idea why watching you go made him feel so lost.

“What do you want from me?” He shouted, frustrated.

You stopped as soon as you heard him; all your feelings needed an escape or else you would burst. What did you want from him? Did you hear him right?

All right then.

Turning around, you walked to him with determined steps, a look of pure anger in your face and he braced himself, sure that you would smack him or anything of the sort.

Stopping right in front of him, your delicate hands grasped fistfuls of his white shirt and you pulled him to a bruising, harsh kiss.

Suddenly the world stopped spinning and all sounds ceased for Credence. The cold rain had no effect against the burning fever your lips inflicted to him. Slowly and instinctively, his hands rested around you, still uncertain. One kiss followed the other, until you were both out of breath and broke apart, noticing people had started to give you disapproving looks due to the public display of affection.

“I have no money. No possessions. I am a no one.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“I don’t care.” You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

He flinched lightly with the new contact. “I am not… I am not normal. I am not… safe. You do not understand.”

You lifted your head just enough to whisper in his ear. “I don’t care, Credence.” You sighed and the action brought shivers down his entire body. “Let me in.”

“I cannot. Please, I cannot.” He pleaded.

“What about what I want?” You pulled away, your hands still on his shirt. “Let me in… Credence, please!”

“I will never make you happy. There are so many secrets… Just please leave. Forget me.”

“How can I forget you… No, Credence. Please… Let me cherish you, love you and we will both be happy! You can make me happy! I care not about the money… And… And if you say you are dangerous… Is there people after you? I do not mind, we can go anywhere… P-Please!” You found yourself in despair without any clue of why. You felt him slipping away and for some reason, it broke your heart. Why could that be? When you knew so little about him?

Love? He only realized the importance of those words when they left your mouth, but it could not be helped. You had no idea of what he was. He was sure you would think differently if you ever found out.

He sighed, his hands trembling as he gently loosened your grip on him. His dark eyes found yours again and he handed you the coat, stepping away.

“Thank you…” He started, taking another step backwards. “Do not look for me anymore.” He said with a sad, almost imperceptible smile on his face. “Forget about me, Y/N. I am not who you think I am. Stay away from me.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you behind.

You stood in the rain, watching until he was out of sight. You felt as if he had stabbed your heart and left you there, to bleed.

It was over.

It was over before it had even begun.


Pairing/ Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Word count: 1903

Summary: The reader adores her relationship with Sam, but what will happen when her self-doubt comes to light?

A/N: My lovely betas are @madamelibrarian , @when-the-day–met-the-night , @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell , and the runner of this challenge, @helvonasche

We are going to post this again because some people couldn’t read it last time :( Dumb glitches

Out of habit, you pulled your arm over your eyes to block the sun;  vital first thing in the morning to keep your eyesight. That was, if the sun was shining in your window, or if there was a window for the sun to shine in at all.

“Uurrrrghhh,” a rather ungraceful noise came from your mouth as you rolled over to look at the clock hanging from the wall. You stopped mid-roll when you hit something that was warm and solid. You froze.

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Not Afraid (Daveed x Reader)

Summary: Reader is an ensemble member. Daveed and reader have a drunken one night stand and reader walks out the morning after, causing tension backstage.

Warnings: casual swearing, mentions of a one night stand, maybe a bit angsty at points

Word Count: 2755

“Y/N, are you ready to go?” Daveed asked, sticking his head into your dressing room.

“Yeah, let me just grab my bag,” you told him.

It was the end of a two-show day, and you and a couple of the cast members had decided to go out drinking. It wasn’t a rare occurrence and, since you had been part of the ensemble for quite some time now, you were comfortable with most everyone in the cast and crew. This meant that you felt no shame whatsoever when you downed three shots of vodka within fifteen minutes of arriving at the bar.

“Woah, Y/N, slow down,” Daveed chuckled, coming up behind you as you swallowed shot number four. “At this rate, there’ll be no liquor left behind the bar by the end of the night.”

You turned to the handsome man behind you, a grin on your face. You and Daveed had grown extremely close during your time at the Richard Rodgers. It began with him bringing you coffee in the mornings and morphed into a beautiful friendship fueled by sarcastic humor and the occasional wrestling match.

You would not deny that you had always found him to be extremely attractive. Nor would you deny that getting to know him only heightened your attraction. In fact, his personality is what turned your attraction into a full-blown crush. Of course, there were times when you’d speculated that he felt the same, but Daveed was a huge flirt. You couldn’t assume anything with him.

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who could ever say no to your smile?

anonymous asked:

could you come up with something grossly sweet w/ owain and kissing in the rain?

“Owain, what are you doing? You’ll fall ill if you stay out!” It was a relatively bright and sunny day for once, when suddenly a shower descended upon camp. Frederick barked at everyone to stop being prisses and deal with it–it’s just a little rain.

Until not even he could squint through the torrential downpour. He barked orders for everyone to return to their tents…not that it was necessary, as everyone had done so anyway. Well, almost everyone. When you don’t see him in your tent, you let out a heavy sigh before going out to search for your husband.

“Owain! What in Naga’s name are you doing out here?”

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anonymous asked:

Noctis pulls you to himself, grabbing a handful of your ass as you meet. Immediately his lips are on your neck, kissing, biting, licking up the smooth column until he's satisfied with the marks he left behind. "You're mine tonight," he murmurs into your skin. His hands begin to move and trail along your body, sending a shock through your system. He levels his eyes to meet yours, voice dropping impossibly lower as he looks you straight in the eyes and says, "Oh the things i'll do to you tonight."

damn you all straight to hell.

fucking discord BINCHES

One-Shot: Amnesia

Can you do a Warren x Reader where Warren survives the jet crash but he has amnesia and doesn’t remember anything. You then try your hardest to help him remember by recreating moments together he still can’t remember anything. So you think that it would be best if you guys were just friends now. But the more time Warren spends with you, he falls in love with you again because even if he doesn’t remember you, his heart does. -Requested by anon

Characters: Warren Worthington III
Word Count: 874

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anonymous asked:

part two of the one where luke gets jealous of y/n's friends ???

a/n: sorry, it’s still quite short? I plan to make up for my lack of writing lately though, i promise :)
word count: 1130
masterlist | request

It took a lot more than the usual three rings before Luke answered when you finally worked up the courage to call him, and his voice was quiet and dry when he picked up.

“Hi,” you mumbled sheepishly, picking at your nail polish as you curled up further on your bed as if that would ease the nausea.

He cleared his throat; rising from his spot in the bus to crawl into his bunk, pulling the curtain closed behind him like that’d stop the boys from listening in. “How’re you feeling?”

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anonymous asked:

Oh my gosh it's open!!!!! Ok so my request is how would the TYL Vongola (Adult!Reborn and 25 year old Lambo too) and TYL Varia react to finding there S/O gone in the middle of the night only to find them singing a lullaby to there baby (let's say the s/o has a good voice too) thanks so much and your doing an absolutely lovely job with your blog it's honestly one of my favorite blogs ever.

Ahhhh, I remember you~! This is still one of the cutest requests I’ve ever received orz. I’m glad you decided to come back and hope you enjoy~! Btw, thank you for your sweet words, I’m so happy my blog brings you joy~! I’m sorry it took so so long but I tried my best to give individual reactions for so many people~! Anyway, enjoy!


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stardusttae  asked:

vernon, lifeguard

tw: mentions of drowning 

One moment, you’re just walking past the pool to get back to your lounge chair, but then the next thing you know someone has caught your ankle and is causing you to topple over into the deep end of the pool with a splash.

The last thing you hear is their laughing, the water surrounding you in a tight grasp that only heaves your body lower and you gasp as your lungs fill with water.

I can’t swim. Someone help.

Is what you wish you can say, but it’s impossible, your voice is lost under the calm current and just as everything seems to be going black, the impending doom of sinking even further is cut off by the rays of sun that hit your face as your tugged out of the water and back on the surface beside the pool.

Coughing, you feel the splatter of water pile out of your throat and once you can see the outlines of the person above you, you see that his damp hair hangs in his face and shrouds his concerned eyes in wet locks.

“Are- are you an angel?”

Your voice is still slightly hoarse, but you see the boy grin, the whites of his teeth showing as his image clears up a little and you see how handsome he is up close.

“Well the technical term is lifeguard…lifeguard Vernon, but angel Vernon is cute too.” 

Daily Destiel Drabble: #4

              “You need to stop leaving dead bodies in my kitchen.”

               Sam turns to look at his brother. Dean is fuming—ladle in hand, apron tied tightly around his waist, gesturing wildly towards the witch corpse sprawled out on the kitchen table. He finally looks away as he hears Castiel scoff.

               “I am unsure of where else you would like us to inspect these specimens, Dean. The lighting in here is sufficient and it’s also the cleanest area in the bunker.”

               Dean stares at the angel a moment, wide eyed with a mouth to match. “Yeah, you know why it’s the cleanest spot in the bunker? Because I clean it! Because I don’t leave dead bodies lying around in here—especially witch bodies! You know those things are all … flemy.” Dean grimaces down towards the bloated torso, shivering with the memories of goo and puss that have riddled every experience they’ve had with the things.

               Sam sighs, wishing his brother was more understanding, considering this is all for him anyway. He knows the only way they might be able to tackle his mark is by understanding others who have been branded in similar manners. This witch is an old one, and bears certain scars that made him extremely powerful. Perhaps they’re similar to the Mark of Cain. Maybe. “Dean, I know you don’t like this, but Cas is right. This is the best place to examine these things. The table is big enough, the lighting is good … we got all these knives and—”

               “You better not be using my good knives for this shit!” Dean barks, shoving the ladle in Sam’s direction.

               “These knives are very sharp—great for precision cuts” Cas offers.

              Sam shakes his head at him. “Not helping, dude.”

              Dean throws his hands up in the air as he turns back to the pot of stew on the stove. “That’s great! That’s just fucking great! Now I’m going to have to get a whole new set because this one has witch slime on it!”

              “As well as vampire slime … and skin walker slime” Cas states matter-of-factly.

              Dean whips his head around to eyeball them both, his jaw clenching with his fury.

              “Dude! Really not helping!” Sam snaps but the angel only shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

              “You guys need to take that thing out of here, now!” Dean points down at the body, giving Sam his best “dad” look. “ Do it before it spreads its goop all over the place and contaminates my stew!”

              Castiel turns back to the older man, firming his neck as he moves towards him. “Dean, we really need to examine this witch’s remains. He could hold a valuable clue in removing the mark.”

              Sam nods, catching his brother’s eye once more. “Yeah, man. We are just trying to help.”

              “Well, help outside of my kitchen!”

              “Dean, c’mon!” Sam whines.

              Castiel moves closer, reaching out and lightly touching Dean’s arm. “Dean? Please.”


              “Dean …” Cas whispers, staring at the guy with big, pleading eyes.

              Sam tries the same, but Dean only glares at him. The younger Winchester huffs, quickly changing his tactic. “Dean, it’s two against one. You’re outvoted. Sorry.”

              The man narrows his eyes at him, making Sam flinch as he sees the crooked grin start to form on his brother’s lips. Dean cocks his head back to the angel, leaning in close so he can whisper in Cas’s ear. “Cas … buddy, if you keep bringing bodies into my kitchen, I will stop touching your …” his voice grows impossibly quiet, but Sam watches as Castiel’s eyes burst wide while Dean continues. The man nuzzles his nose into the space behind their friend’s ear with each, seductive word that slips past his lips. Dean finally finishes, pulling back and giving the angel a flirty wink.

              Cas looks at him, swallowing hard and nodding. “I understand.” He turns back to Sam, tensing his body to appear as stern and assertive as he can manage. “I’m sorry, Sam. We can no longer inspect bodies in here!” And with that, the angel stomps out of the kitchen, pulling his coat tightly around himself as he leaves.

              Dean gives a haughty giggle before turning victoriously to stir his stew.

              “Not fair, man!” Sam groans, spinning around so he can wrap the corpse up in the plastic they draped beneath it. Once covered, he lifts the thing over his shoulder and quickly turns back to glare at his brother.

              Dean just smiles, shaking his head while he swivels the ladle about the pot. “Sorry, man. Guess I’m just more persuasive than you are.”

              Sam adjusts the body in his arms, turning after another moment to exit the kitchen, grumbling louder with each step.

              “Yeah—I’d be persuasive too if I was fuckin’ the angel.”

Read more Destiel and Cockles here: (x)