#Sam Taylor

[obriengf]

Search results for: Dylan Rhodes O'Brien

[Inspo]

[dylnsohbrien]

“You’re her...”

[yellowflwrss]

i wanna ride, i wanna ride 🫣

[pterodach]

Sam

[wildflowerawsten]

CONSTRUCTION

PART ONE - PART TWO

Pairing: Sam Taylor x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (eventually lol), cursing, misogyny. 

Concept: You move to a new town and meet the local construction owner.

We drove down the dirt road in our baby blue LaSalle with a black overhead and big silver rims. The sun was shining down bright and happy in between fluffy clouds as they strolled through the air politely. We stop in front of a large, white house. A couple of other roadsters behind us stopped too. We packed up all of our favorite items and left the rest behind with the plan to buy new things. I sighed in relief, excited to get out of this car. I open the door carefully and step out. My brother, Vincent, immediately ran over to me and tried helping me out after the fact. My father, who was helping my brother and I move not too far from our old home, had some words of anger to share as he watched the whole ordeal happen. I sighed lightly to myself, wishing that he would just let me be. But he didn’t want a daughter who raised her voice or took care of herself. I did my best to ignore his hateful words while still responding enough that he thought I cared. 

I walked up to the large, beautiful house and stared for a moment. This house was mine. And, sort of, Vincent’s, who would only be staying with me until I found an appropriate mate.

I begin to move to walk into the gorgeous piece of architecture when I once again get yelled at. “Y/F/N Y/M/N! Let Vincent in first! Remember your manners.” My father shouted from away. I turn to look at him and nod before stepping aside and letting Vincent in. The blonde man looks at me with a worrisome eye before nodding his head and stepping in. 

Vincent was kind and loving towards me. He hated my father just as much as I did. But he had the unfortunate habit of forgetting his place and leaving me to get the fall back of his less than assertive nature. He stepped aside lightly to let me walk past him as I wandered the halls of my future. I was going to finally be free from the grip of an uncaring man. At least, until I was to be set up with whatever suitor my father inevitably finds for me. 

I step up the freshly built staircase and walk around the upstairs joyously as the men who traveled with me carry my belongings in and place them where they see fit. There was one room at the end of the hallway that particularly intrigued my whimsy as its door was the only door that was closed. I waltz over carefully before swinging it open in cheer. That’s when I saw him.��

I let out a loud scream before turning and closing the door and running back out of the house into my brother’s arms. “Grab the gun! There’s an intruder!” I shout while pointing to the house vigorously. My father scoffs as I cry out, waiting for me to calm down. Once I finally did, he spoke, “There is no such thing.” I shake my head with widened eyes and feel my heart begin to raise again - this time from anger. He takes a breath to begin a tangent - most likely about me being a troublesome liar - when the man I saw before pops out. I turn to look at the man quickly pointing my finger, “There he is!” The brunette man puts his hands up carefully and calmly, like he’s been through this before. He has the same look in my eyes - fear.

My father lets out a hearty laugh that is sudden and loud. We all snap our heads to the older man before he explains, “You stupid girl. That’s the contractor.” I change my face, it’s offended and confused. “He built the house, “Y/N/N.” Vincent says quietly from behind me. I turn to look at the man again, his face is soft and understanding. “Oh.” I say shortly. “Mr. Taylor, this is my ill-mannered daughter, Y/N.” Mr. Taylor nods his head slowly, smiling small with his brown eyes. My father moves to grab Vincent carefully, “And this is my son, Vincent. He’ll be the man of the house until we can find a suitor for Y/N.” Sam nods his head again, beginning to gain a look of discomfort. “Y/N, Sam will look after you when I’m away in the city for work.” Vincent says suddenly. I nod my head shortly, unsure of how I should act at this point. There was nothing I wanted less than to have my father yell at me again. Especially in front of the handsome man before me. 

“Well, I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling things yourself, but I’ll be around if you need me.” He smiles softly as he tries to show that he does not feel the same way as the old man. “Nonsense. She’ll be with you whenever Vincent is not here. I don’t want her running around alone.” Sam nods his head uncomfortably. He clearly hasn’t learned how to talk to my father just yet. “I promise not to be a bother, Mr. Taylor.” I send him a polite smile while trying to please my father. “Please, call me Sam.” My father scoffs again, “Mr. Taylor, please do not teach my daughter improper manners. The only men she doesn’t have to address by their last name are me and my son.” Sam looked at him with wider eyes than before as he nodded his head carefully.

“Vincent, everything is inside where it needs to be. I must be getting back home to your mother.” Vincent nodded his head in response to my father before moving next to me so that we could watch my father and his helpers leave together. Once the only roadster in sight was our LaSalle, Vincent let his breath go. I turned to him carefully as he moved to sit on the steps of the house just in front of Mr. Taylor. The two sat down next to each other. I walked over carefully and stood quietly.

“Y/N, we should lay down some clear guidelines.” I nod my head at Vincent calmly, but I instantly feel fear. Was he going to be as ruthless as my father after all? “First thing, you can call Mr. Taylor, Sam. Just not around father. And you don’t have to be watched at all times, you’re a grown woman and it’s time you get treated as such.” I nodded my head carefully as I watched the two with furrowed eyebrows. Sam pulled his hand out and reached it out to shake my own. I grab it slowly. “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” I smile softly, maybe things are going to be okay here after all.

[citizenscreen]

Adela Rogers St. Johns, Colleen Moore, Sam Taylor, Harold Lloyd, and Walter Lundin at the camera, on set of the hilarious WHY WORRY? (1923).

[schrutexbucks]

Dylan O’brien and Victoria pedretti

[metro-headcanons]

sam wears awful hawaii shirts. I know this because he told me himself

He absolutely does

[dylan-obrien-gifs]

HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY DYLAN RHODES O’BRIEN!

[hollywedits]

[fitzells]

OKAY, A REQUEST, okay ~

Could I please have a Mitch Rapp with the prompt "I know you said we're not friends, or anything... but I'm here if you need someone to talk to." 💕

someone to talk to, mitch rapp

notes: hi! trying to be active on here for a while (I have covid so I have lots of free time) this is not proof read and I am very loopy on medication so I'm so sorry if this sucks! initially this was supposed to be a lot fluffier but it just developed into angst, angst and more angst! also requests are open so keep 'em coming

word count: 600+

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, mild cursing, major angst

“I know you said we’re not friends, or anything, but I’m here if you need to talk.”

He leaned against your doorframe, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you; knees tucked up to your chest, chin perched upon your arms. His heart ached at the sight of you, with your tear lined eyes and wounded face. He shouldn’t have let you go, he didn’t care that you were just as if not more experienced than him, or that you guys supposedly hated each other's guts. You were his partner, and he let you leave his sight. He was the reason you’d been kidnapped, and almost tortured to death; it was all his fault.

Mitch couldn’t handle losing you, he wouldn’t survive it. He’d lost almost everybody he had ever loved, and he didn't know what he would do if he had to deal with having your blood on his hands as well.

You looked up at him from across the room, his gruff words cutting through the quiet sounds of your whimpers; the small gesture didn’t go unnoticed by you, he wasn’t usually your go-to for a shoulder to cry on. However, as much as you thought he hated you, on a deeper level, you knew that he would always look out for you. The sight of him made the distinct feeling of despair flood your senses all over again. Seeing all of the bruises and gashes littering his body, from his face down to his bare torso — ones that would undoubtedly scar — and having to know that they were all caused by you. He had to save your ass, yet again, because you were reckless; all you had wanted to do was save as many innocent people as you could, and yet, you put your partner, and the entire team in even more danger.

Your face crumpled up as a stream of salty tears flowed down your cheeks, a shaky hand coming up to cover your mouth whilst ugly sobs flew past your lips. You wanted to scold yourself for being so weak, but all you could think about was how petrified you were, how ill, and frail those assholes had made you. Their torture played on your mind constantly, over and over again like a broken record. You felt so stupid.

Your cries became fiercer, causing Mitch to become more alert, slowly walking over to you, as though to make sure you weren’t startled. Sitting down beside you, he pulled you into his chest; one large hand knotted into your messy hair as the other rubbed soothing circles on your back. He rested his chin on top of your head, fingers trailing up and down your spine carefully.

“You can’t blame yourself for this.” He muttered quietly.

“None of this was your fault.” He added, his words muffled as he moved his lips to your hairline, not pressing a kiss in their wake, just leaving them there. Your salty tears wet the crook of his neck, as your hands balled into fists on his lap.

“I’m so scared.” You whimpered, your trembling hands coming up to cover your face. You shook in his hold, panicked wails being muffled into his neck as he gently shushed you. “I hate feeling like this, I’m just- I feel so weak.”

He shook his head, moving away from you slightly to cup your face in his hands. “You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“You don’t have to be scared.” He promised, whiskey hued eyes staring into your bloodshot ones. “You’re more than able to protect yourself.”

His thumbs swept under your eyes to collect the pool of tears that lay there, as he gave you an undoubtedly small, but nonetheless reassuring smile. “And when you’re not able to protect yourself, I’ll be there. I promise.”

[dylnsohbrien]

[samtaylorillustrator]

KV B/W

[fanficmeat]

The many faces of Dylan O’Brien              (but not all of them)

[wildflowerawsten]

WILDFLOWERAWSTEN’S MASTERLIST

☆ SMUT

AWSTEN KNIGHT

Coming Soon...

DYLAN O’BRIEN

Best Friend 1/?

Boxer 1/?

The Jeep ☆

STILES STILINSKI (Teen Wolf)

Professor 2/?

With Benefits 9/9 ☆

SAM TAYLOR (Amazing Stories)

Construction 1/?

FRED FITZELL (The Education of Fredrick Fitzell)

Having An Affair 1/?

RICHIE BOYLE (The Outfit)

Marbles 2/2

[linovadraws]

All the main couples from the most recent generation of Price’s. They all come from the InCryptid series by @seananmcguire, which is a series you should get into if you like monsters, large found & blood families, WEAPONS, sorcery, people with clear blood, midsized griffins, and/or the continent of Australia.